Chapter 16

When I got to the office on Monday, there was a note from Mona: Wednesday at 10 at the studio. When she got in, I asked her to see whether I could meet with the Dean. Nothing urgent, but I'd like to see him Wednesday afternoon or Friday. It ended up being Wednesday at 1500. I worked away at the paper on my desk all day, reducing it substantially. I spent Tuesday at SciTech, as usual.

Wednesday, Weena insisted on dolling me up: brown suit, blue shirt, striped tie, and medal. Shiny shoes. I felt like a side-show monkey. "You look really good," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "Knock 'em dead!"

"I'll phone after I see the Dean."

"Don't bother; I'll be at the hospital."

I parked in a Visitor space and was greeted by the receptionist with a prepared "guest" badge. I was "Dr. Gordon Hollister." A young man with over-long hair in a too-tight jacket greeted me and offered a damp, limp hand. He led me to an elevator and pushed the top button. "Up with the big boys," he said. I didn't bother to say anything. He led me down a hallway to a double door, knocked and said: "Here he is," when it opened. There were large windows, a meeting table, and three people. One was Sue, who kissed me just where Weena had. The two men were introduced: station manager and programming manager. Handshakes and card exchanges took place. I was offered "coffee or whatever," and a hand was waved toward a loaded sideboard. I took a cup of coffee — no styrofoam here — and sat down.

"You're on, Sue," the Big Boss said.

"Very well. You know we've had an extremely good response where Gordy's appearance on my programme was concerned. In the months since, we've also had queries as to having — actually not having — a segment on ecology/environment/climate change. What-have-you. So I immediately thought of Gordy. Then, a week ago, I heard from an acquaintance in Darwin that Gordy had delivered an articulate, impassioned speech at the research centre there — spontaneously. So, we've got this presentable young man, a Ph.D., a CSIRO director, an officer in the Navy, and a PSM wearer who's articulate."

"And you've wound him about your finger?" asked the programming manager.

"No way. His wife would tear me to shreds. We've had her on, too, and their little boy." She turned to me. "How's Patrick?"

"He's fine, thanks. But these blokes need to know that I'm not an all-powerful figure from Australia's early days."

"Right," the station manager said. "Aren't you the bloke that got shot?"

"Yes."

"Leadin' an interestin' life, eh?"

"And sometimes painful." There was general laughter.

"What are your thoughts?" the programming bloke asked.

"Well, you must realize that Sue called me but a few days ago, but I've thought about it over the weekend and while talking to the kids yesterday."

"Kids?"

"I go out to SciTech once or twice a week and take a group of schoolkids around. Sometimes, I miss a day, but I try not to."

"How big?"

"Oh, from about eight to fourteen. They get bussed in from all over. I learn a lot from their questions and I hope they get something out of my answers. Anyway, Sue said a few minutes every week or two. I wonder whether I can keep your audience involved. Could I bring in some of my colleagues?"

"Like... ?"

"My associate at Floreat is concerned about water supplies. One in Darwin works on the importance of some kinds of ants. And Dr. Maggie Friedel, in the Alice, does Arid Zone research. We could get someone on with me every month or so."

"But ... Darwin and the Alice aren't in this State!"

"Oh. Sue didn't tell you? I'm in charge of Western Australia and the Northern Territory. It's a big area, with a lot of different sorts of terrain, vegetation, inhabitants, and products. Swamps in the north; deserts; forests; rivers; meteor craters. The wine country; the wheatbelt; the mines; the fisheries. A lot of variety and a variety of problems." I paused, got up and refilled my coffee cup.

"Can you get him?" I heard the station manager 'whisper' to Sue.