Mind Out of Time
The Publicity Agent's office. On the walls are portraits of some great fiction writers, Wells, Boulle, Verne, Poe, Committee. The Publicity Agent is reading the Incremental Progression and Performance Planning Scheme, displayed on his computer screen. He is clearly impressed by the document, he gives knowing appreciative nods. The Capt'n enters, he is relaxed and chatty.
Capt'n
Just thought I'd drop in. We need to send a wind-up note to our clientele. You know, a thanks-for-your-support-see-you-in-the-New-Year, sort of thing. Say, what's that you're reading?
Publicity Agent
It's the eye-phut-phut-phut-
Capt'n
Out with it! Whistle, and try again.
Publicity Agent
-ess. The Incremental Progression and Performance Planning Scheme, eye-phut-phut-phut-ess. It's brilliant, we should get these boys to write our promos.
It's right up there with "Who's on first?" and "the party of the third part". [Abbott and Costello, The Naughty Nineties; Chico and Groucho Marx, A Night At The Opera - ed.] Listen, I'll read it.
The objectives of the IPPPS are:
f) To ensure that the goals and objectives of a linking plan developed pursuant to sub-clauses 27.3(b) and (c) of the La Trobe University Enterprise Bargaining Agreement are consistent with the principles set out in Clause 27 of the said
Enterprise Bargaining Agreement for development of a linking plan and that the IPPP Scheme is used as the process for evaluating achievement of goals and objectives agreed under the linking plan.
Capt'n in the tone of someone admiring a fine piece of work
It's not bad, it's not bad. They've got the balance spot on. You know it's satire, but there's that touch of doubt. There is a chance, just perhaps, it is for real.
Publicity Agent
The next line's the clincher.
The objectives of the IPPPS are:
g) To assist the university in meeting its strategic objectives.
Capt'n broad laugh
Yeah, that's good! (indicates portraits) What's with all the blokes in high collars.
Publicity Agent
a little coy
Inspiration, I'm writing a book. I've been reading the "Planet of the Apes". It's got that forward into time feel about it, like the "Time Machine". I'm going to write something along those lines. I've started, I've done a page.
pauses, waits
Capt'n the penny drops
Oh, would you like to read it to me?
Publicity Agent
Oh, seeing you asked. (pulls out bottom draw of desk, it has a false bottom) One can't be too careful you know.
Capt'n
Yes, look at what happened to the Dead Sea scrolls.
Publicity Agent taking single sheet of A4 from drawer prepares to read.
I've called it 'Mind Out of Time'. The main character's name is Agent.
Capt'n
You surprise me.
Publicity Agent
It's an allergy.
Capt'n
Allotropy?
[allegory? -ed.]
Publicity Agent
It was just a minute past six when Agent left his office. He was emotionally exhausted after the verbal, and at times, almost physical, cut and thrust of the Library Liaison Committee meeting.
Around the corner he could hear Arthur and Kevin shiacking each other above the noise of the floor polisher.
"You'll lose your money, mate."
"Sure, Arthur. Now tell me about Senator and the Melbourne Cup, eh?"
Agent idly counted the steps from his office to the exit.
"Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine. 'The Thirty-nine Steps'. Hannay, you had it easy. The Black Stone were nothing compared with the crowd I faced today".
He gave a dry laugh, opened the door and took the fortieth step.
The card station for Agent's building was placed in an air lock of cubic proportions. One wall had glass doors through which Agent had just entered. The opposite wall had glass doors opening to the outside. The other two walls were brick. The card station was on one of these walls. Agent casually took a plastic card from his wallet and swiped it.
It was the wrong card.
Immediately he was aware of rushing through space. A planet loomed large and menacing, plunging towards him. In an instant he found himself in the clouds of its atmosphere, in the darkness of its surface, in the blinding heat of its interior and through the reverse sequence to emerge in dark space. He passed through a cloud of small meteorites and found himself disinterestedly observing them passing harmlessly through his body. In the heavens galaxies whirled in chaotic spirals; stars collapsed into black holes and burst forth as cosmic energy displays. It was beyond comprehension.
His journey finished as it began, unexpectedly. The air lock was stationary and upright. The glass panels were fogged and his hand was just completing the swipe operation. The card station chimed its normal "the door is open" sequence, and with the vague hope of finding himself on familiar ground, Agent stepped through.
He found himself in a strickened landscape. The sun glared off large salt flats. Cruel erosion gullies fractured the ground like cracks in the glass of a portrait smashed in anger. Grey broken skeletons of trees punctuated the tangled topography. Agent could distinguish ruined fragments of a civilised infrastructure, the remnants of a road, tangled cobwebs of transmission cables and decaying buildings.
A man approached him. His clothes were stained and worn. Agent sought assistance.
"Could you help me please, I'm a little confused. Where am I, and what is the date?"
The man's response was surprising.
"You're not doing a survey. Where's your clipboard? You should be wearing an identification card. Really, what's the world coming to! I've never heard of a survey person without an identification card. What's your ethics approval number?"
"I don't have any of those things."
"I thought not. Then you're not doing a survey at all."
The man abruptly turned away and disappeared down a dusty track along an erosion gully.
On the horizon, on a slight hill, Agent thought he could make out a line of light as if the sun was reflecting off a row of windows. "Perhaps it's an intact building." He set off, picking the best route he could through the devastation.
He passed discarded machinery and failed crops. After a couple of hours of steady hiking he reached the building. This building was impressive by any standard, in this setting doubly so. It stretched long and low. It was well maintained.
Its lawns were the only green growth Agent had seen since his arrival. Strangely the entrance was flanked by potted plants that looked like rejects from a production of Viva Mexico. A large sign above the door read 'Commission of Survey, Review, and Census'.
Agent entered. Apparently there was some problem, a long queue of impatient staff members holding sheets of paper had formed at the reception desk. The person at the head of the queue was addressing the receptionist.
"I have to get this grant application in today. At least give me a paper clip."
"I'm sorry. We can't buy paper clips anymore. I think the factory's shut down."
The receptionist turned to Agent as he entered. A flutter of hope flickered across her harassed features.
"There isn't any chance you could fix an electric stapler?", she said.
That's as far as I've got. What do you think?
Capt'n
It's too improbable.
Publicity Agent
The whole thing?
Capt'n
No. Just the bit about the potted plants.
Publicity Agent
You're right. I made that bit up. I didn't derive it from life experience. You can tell. I'll take it out.
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