Mike Dixon

„That will not be necessary, Sir.‟
Humphrey snapped the briefcase shut and hurried off.
He was writing an article on cyber warfare and he was keen
to finish it. He entered his office and was about to start
work when he saw a sheet of paper in his in tray.
It was typed in the font used by Cecil Sparrow‟s secretary,
Mrs. Cohen, and carried a stern warning that the use
of green ink was reserved for annotations made by the
Chief Investigator.
Humphrey took a green pen and wrote BALLS across the
offending item before assigning it to the bin. A moment
later his telephone rang and he heard Mrs. Cohen‟s voice.
„Dr Hansen. You are wanted in the interview room.‟
„What language?‟
„You are not needed to translate. They want to interview
you personally.‟
Humphrey glanced at the wastepaper bin.
„You mean, I‟m going to be disciplined for using green
ink?‟
„No.‟ She sounded embarrassed. „Please go and wait
outside.‟
The line of plastic chairs was familiar and so was the
voice coming from the interview room. Humphrey sat down
and strained his ears. The voice belonged to Janet Pulnitz
but what she was saying was by no means clear. He moved
closer then winced as the output of Janet‟s powerful lungs
increased by several decibels.
„You can all get stuffed!‟
The door flew open and Janet stormed out. Humphrey
eased himself from his chair and went inside. The room
was bleak. Infinite care had been taken to conform with
every human rights charter ever entered into by an Aus-
tralian government.
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