“Hi, I’m Doctor Nick Turner. I’m the resident. How are you feeling?” Satisfied that he understood enough of the patient history, the Doctor began before he’d actually finished reading.
“Fine. I got carried away, that’s all.”
The doctor finally gave his patient his undivided attention. “What’s your name?”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“I’m trying to help. What harm would it be to tell me your name?”
“No harm, but it also wouldn’t help me or you. So earn your pay and tell me how you plan to ‘help’?” Malcolm didn’t need to be difficult, but there was also no necessity for him to be excessively compliant either. “I’ll bet I’m one of what, fifty, maybe more, who’ve crossed your books recently.”
“OK, so …” the doctor tried to talk.
“I’m not finished. My blood-work would have ruled out an attempted overdose, so you don’t have any grounds for any psych intervention, so don’t waste my time. I’ve got things to do.”
The doctor thought for a moment. “Eighty one fellow revellers were admitted in the forty eight hours following the festival. Of those, only nine, including you, are still with us. And yes, none of them are demonstrating the same clarity and mental state without paranoia as you.”
“So, Doogie, can I go?” Malcolm couldn’t help himself.
“There are police outside who want a chat. I’m fine for you to go if they give the nod,” the doctor conceded, ignoring the ‘Doogie’ tag.
“Send them in, but you’ll need to stick around. I won’t speak to them without an impartial witness, and you two at least have a mandate to advocate for me.”
“Sorry, but I don’t have time for that,” the Doctor replied returning his attention to the patient file. “I’m sure they’ll co-ordinate a lawyer for you at your request.”
“We’re all busy, Doctor. A lawyer imply guilt, so I don’t need one. I just need a witness to listen to what I have to say.”
“The Doctor can go, but I’ll stay,” Nurse Mary offered some middle ground to appease the request.
“If you want your bed back, you’ll both need to stay when I speak to the Police.” Malcolm noted that his comment restored the Doctor’s attention and knew he retained substantial bargaining power.
“I can stay for ten minutes, no more,” the doctor said with more than a little reluctance.
The nurse allowed a solitary, thickset, older man in a cheap suit to enter. “My name is Detective Alan Reymond and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Can I call you Alan?” The guy looked older than Malcolm expected.
The Detective sighed indignantly. “No, but if you’d like to be informal, then perhaps if you tell me your name, then you can call me ‘Detective’.”
“Can I first confirm that I have been advised by Nurse Mary and Doctor Doogie here that I’m not currently medicated.” He paused, allowing the Detective to exchange confirmatory glances with the Doctor and the Nurse. “My name is Malcolm Venn.” He liked the way the name rolled off his tongue and it was sad that he’d have to come up with an alternative.
“Where do you live?”
“N.F.I.”
“Do you mean N.F.A., ‘no fixed address’?”
“No, I mean N.F.I, No Fucking Idea.”
“Was your ID stolen?”
“No, I just don’t need it.”
“You’ll need some identification before we can confirm your identity.”
“No. You need some ID.to confirm my identity. I know who I am.”
“Alright,” Detective Reymond sighed. “I need to confirm who you are.”
“Confirmed identity is ordinarily a requirement before your discharge can be processed,” Doctor Turner added while checking his watch.
“Ordinarily so, yes, but you and I both know that it is not mandatory,” Malcolm derided the doctor’s comment.
“Well, it’s necessary for billing, and …” the Doctor started before being cut off.
“The care I’ve been afforded is publically funded. Whether it was provided under the pretence of ‘care’ or protecting the community at large, it’s still free.”
“Thanks Doctor. I’ll take it from here,” the Detective nodded to the Doctor before returning his attention to Malcolm. “I understand that you’re keen to be discharged, but until I’m satisfied as to your identity, you aren’t going anywhere.” He spoke in a calm, age mellowed tone. “And there’s the matter of the other party’s blood. Hospital policy notwithstanding, I’m primarily interested in the origins of the blood.”
Malcolm was surprised that it had taken the Detective so long to broach this point. He settled in to give his account of the blood’s source. He told of where he’d been living and of Angie. He said enough to get the Detective interested but no more. Such was his plan.
Chapter - 8.
Glen escorted Devlin back out to the lounge room with the comfortable chairs. “What do you think so far?”
“It’s difficult to say,” replied Devlin. “I still don’t know what the hell it is that I’ll be doing. All I really know is that you’re clearly a clever guy who’s carved quite a lucrative niche, you’ve got a system for which security seems a near paranoid concern, and you’ve got a handful of staff who admire you as a demi-god.”
“Well, so far you’re pretty right, though I’ll have to speak to the others that I’m only revered as a demi-god,” Glen said dryly, adding, “I’m joking, Devlin.”
“How long have you known about my history?” Devlin asked.
“Your history is not particularly different to a number of my employees, past and present, but that’s not what’s important.” Glen juggled a small white box between his hands. “What is actually important is whether you choose to stay or leave.”
“I’m staying,” Devlin announced without hesitation.
Glen smiled and offered a congratulatory handshake. “I’d hoped as much.” He tossed the little box onto Devlin’s lap, “otherwise that box of business cards would be a waste.” He handed Devlin a bulky envelope. “Here are your system login details, a security pass for the building, some starter cash and a phone.”
“My phone got stolen today, so that’s a real bonus.”
Glen raised his eyebrows at the comment and sighed, but moved on immediately. “You’ll need to change the password and PIN when you first use them. It’s most important that you, and only you, use your login and know your access details. Incidentally, the phone number isn’t listed. The rest of our numbers are already programmed into the phone. The rest of the security arrangements will be explained by the others.”
Only when Glen stopped talking did Devlin peak inside the envelope. On seeing a mass of cash, he quickly flitted through the wad of notes looking to approximate the value, but stopped his count at $2000. “How much money is here?”
“There’s ten thousand there. I’m not paying in advance, it’s just that if I’d needed to use someone to find you, they’d try and charge me. As our meeting earlier saved me their finder’s fee that I would have happily paid, then you might as well have it. In any case, I figured that you’d appreciate a little financial assistance.”
“Thank-you!” Devlin struggled to focus amid his turn of fortune.
“If I may continue?” Glen looked to calm Devlin’s fervour. “I pay cash, so up to you as to what you tell the tax-man. Mention my name at the bank up the street and they’ll look after you. The establishments next door will look after you too if you tell them where you work.”
“Brothels aren’t my thing, but thanks anyway.”
“Moral high ground isn’t my thing either. What else?” said Glen, moving on immediately. “You can decide when you work. Most readers end up working long hours. I don’t make them, but of course I don’t mind. Bear in mind that I want only that they do it for themselves, not me.”
“I’ll work hard!” Devlin declared.
Glen was more serious than Devlin expected.
“The money you are paid is not to buy your trust, nor do I think this money buys your allegiance. You do what’s right. That said, I hope you’re happy here and stay for a while.”
“I may never leave,” said Devlin, keen to arouse a smile in Glen, but without success.
“Everyone leaves for a reason. Sooner or later everyone tires of just being a reader,” Glen said sincerely. “Everyone goes when they are ready, as will you.
“Anyway, join the others and they’ll teach you the rest. I have other things to do.”
Glen walked towards the front door, and Devlin watched him leave the building on the closed circuit televisions. His euphoric mood was interrupted by a tone from an unfamiliar phone indicating that a new text message had arrived. It took a moment for him to realise that the source was his new phone. After fumbling through the phone menu, he read the message.
Casey Lawrence is now dead.
Devlin was initially puzzled before appreciating that the message had been sent to a phone number, not specifically to him. Even though Glen described the number as unlisted, it was not unreasonable that the number had previously belonged to someone else. He wrote off the call as misdirected and headed for the bunker.
Chapter - 9.
Ikel beamed a welcoming smile as soon as he saw Devlin enter the bunker. “We all knew you’d stay!.” Lori and David were less animated in their welcome, but still they looked happy that there was a newcomer to the fold.
“Was the admiring staff exhibition purely for my benefit?” Devlin asked. “I have to know.”
“I’ll speak for myself,” Ikel started. “I like him. He’s a good guy. You’ll like him.”
“We’ll have to see,” Devlin said, inviting discord.
“He’s forthright typically because he is right. He speaks his mind and will always tell the truth,” David spoke defensively. “What you do thereafter is your problem, not his. It’s the same with this work.”
“Point taken,” Devlin shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll understand your devotion when I understand what I really have to do.”
“Hey, I’m unskilled, doing a worthwhile job that I enjoy and to cap it all off, the money is good!” Ikel contributed with a smile to lighten the mood. “Had it not been for him, I’d be in a gutter or ditch somewhere by now for sure.”
“Think what you like Devlin. It’s your life,” David said abruptly, voiding Ikel’s attempt.
“Care for a snack?” Lori piped in. She stood from her seat and coaxed Devlin and Ikel to the door.
Clear of the work room, Lori headed for the kitchen. “When David gets like this, we normally give him a little space. David’s right of course, and you’ll learn this for yourself in good time, but stress gets at him just as it will get to you.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Devlin was momentarily distracted by a tone from his phone. It took some time of fumbling with the new device before he understood that another text message had been received. He resisted the urge to view the message while Lori was talking.
“You don’t need to agree with David to work here, but you’ll want to stop being so provocative, at least until you get to know the ropes. Perhaps then you might see things differently.” Lori spoke confidently, more to defend David than to put Devlin at ease.
Ikel led the way to the armchairs. “You’ll like it here,” he said warmly.
“Are you a reader too?” Devlin asked. “You don’t strike me as having the same background as Lori.”
“I’m a reader, just like you. And no, I ‘spose I prove you don’t need heaps of school to work here because it’s not just reading.” Ikel drank from a can he’d grabbed in the kitchen. “Ready to know what we do? ”
“Now’s as good a time as any,” said Lori. “The system essentially looks after itself, so we really just do the bits that Glen doesn’t want automated. The truth is that our reading doesn’t just identify the martyrs, and then it depends on how we flag and the associated ‘protocol’.”
“Protocols?”
“Relax,” said Ikel. “It’s just how Glen describes what happens with each flag. He won’t say more.”
“OK, so what happens with the messages?” asked Devlin
“That depends on what you read, but it’s not that simple,” answered Lori. “You have to remember that what you can glean from the messages couldn’t be used directly, if only to protect the source.”
“So people are stupid enough to confess to a life of guilt and then we tell the police?”
“Tell me, Devlin, how did you first hear of LastGasp’?” asked Lori.
“I saw it mentioned in a newspaper years ago.”
“That hardly narrows it down. We rarely make the news now because it’s the same old story. The case that you refer to was probably the result of our delivery of a message implicating someone in some illegality. This would have resulted in a volley of questions about the legal side. ‘Should the government or police have the right to access private data?’ and ‘Does LastGasp’ have a legal or moral obligation to pass on information’.”
“Does LastGasp’? Do we?” Devlin asked still unclear as to where the revelations were heading.
“No, the government can’t legally get access to our data, and we don’t need to pass on information,” Lori sub-consciously emphasised the legal word. “Glen has made being a step ahead of the law a way of life. Privacy laws, for starters, couldn’t and still can’t touch us. Such is the benefit of a paper legal system in a digital age.”
Devlin paused to consider what he’d been told. “I don’t believe that people would implicate themselves and I don’t believe that the police couldn’t get at the data.”
“People really are all too willing to implicate themselves. Guilt is a terrible thing and it makes people do things that you wouldn’t predict. And trust me, LastGasp’ is secure. I know this because if people were to get into LastGasp’, LastGasp’ simply wouldn’t exist. It would be drowned under an endless stream of lawsuits from breaches of privacy and resultant defamation and libel issues. Then would come the second tier of lawsuits after LastGasp’ hit the front pages, lawsuits for breaches of privacy just because privacy couldn’t be assured.”
“Surely there are hackers who could get in.”
“Possibly, and but purely on account of the fact that I’m not being issued with a new summons every minute, I’m confident that the system is secure.”
Devlin was not convinced. “Government agencies must be able to get in and you’d never know it.”
“If the Government got in then they’d just make the information public but the protocols seem to spread the information to the right parties.”
“So the police do get the information?”
Glen interrupted on his return, surprising everyone. “Thanks Lori, Ikel. Leave us.”
Devlin let himself be coaxed back to the comfortable armchairs as Lori and Ikel moved away. “It’s a little odd that no-one knows about your protocols, Glen.”
“Yes, I heard what you said and how ably Lori was explaining things. To answer your question, protocols are in place for everything we can glean from messages.”
“So what happens to the information?”
“When you’re ready I’ll explain.”
“What about privacy? Surely there must be laws against this.”
“Privacy is a funny thing, Devlin. For so long as the system is secure then everyone’s privacy is assured. Amongst other things, for privacy to be legally breached, it must be proven that information was actually passed on. But privacy also works for us. Privacy is why the protocols are secret. Privacy absolves you from responsibility if LastGaspStore was ever breached because you are not privy to the protocols.” Glen smiled smugly.
“So who gets the information?”
“Never you mind. I’ll ask you what you think in a few days. For now, I’ll write off your concerns as a naïve lack of understanding.” Glen turned to Lori and Ikel who had remained distant but within earshot. “Let
him in.”
Chapter - 10.
Where previously Devlin had been merely shown the system, now he was allowed free reign to actually use it, drawing on Lori and Ikel for assistance where necessary. David passively observed the tutelage, seemingly ready to intercede should his greater experience be warranted.
The first message Devlin read was benign and sentimental, just as he’d expected. The text was a series of words from a married family man to his wife and family. As he read, he was more than aware of his own cynicism. The guy had taken up the free package; a simple means to ensure that his family knew he loved them. Words left either unsaid, or unproven, or perhaps words that needed to be reiterated.
Message after message followed with nothing that sparked any interest. Devlin could feel his enthusiasm starting to wane; a well-paying job was nothing if it meant a life of tedium, but it was a start, perhaps until the heat died off.
“Here’s one!” announced Ikel. “Have a read when it comes your way.”
The screen before Devlin alerted him to a new message, lacking in any identification just like the rest, other than an icon indicating that it had been marked for peer review. He started to read and immediately came to the realisation that this was not a message of love. Nor was it a message of regret. Instead, Devlin read a sad tale of a lonely man and his rave-like justification for his personality and his many failings. This was someone writing his own epitaph for anyone who might be interested, but Devlin felt that few would cry for the passing of this man primarily on account of the thinly veiled references to his penchant for young boys. The paedophilic references turned his impression of member #1009345 from worthy of passing disinterest, to one of disgust. “You’re kidding me!” he announced to the others.
“We don’t get many of them, but we do get them,” Lori sighed.
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