ABOUT THE PLACE
CHAPTER 1
JJoey sat upright on the leather couch in his living room, listening as a chatty presenter on the six o’clock news read a story that caught his attention. It concerned the authorities’ latest plans to restrict yet more of the freedoms enjoyed by ordinary citizens. As usual, the justifications were security, safety or public health.
Joey considered himself no different from anyone else. In principle, the general philosophy sounded reasonable and worthwhile - that wasn’t the issue. His objection was to what he considered unreasonable and oppressive restrictions. To him, new policies seemed to take matters to extremes, and at the heart of them he usually found the same motive: the almighty dollar.
He frowned at the apparent arrogance with which these restrictions were imposed on ordinary people. This time, the campaign concerned banning smoking in certain public places.
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ABOUT THE PLACE
Fashionable ideas, he mused. He did not dispute that smoking was harmful. What troubled him was the question of personal autonomy. He thought of the industrial pollution that drifted over the city each day and wondered about society’s priorities.
He remembered documentaries about people who had fought and died in wars to preserve rights and freedoms. Now, it seemed to him, those same freedoms were being steadily eroded.
Drinking the remaining water from the glass, his fingers began tapping the top of the coffee table in agitation. What seemed evident was the more boxed in we lived; the more some people like to dictate and impose their values on another. Then they used politicians as instruments of their will. He shook his head helplessly while making way to the kitchen after hearing the microwave’s finished bell sound. It had just finished re-heating last night’s leftovers. He enjoyed that meal; it was boiled potatoes with beans and some stewed lamb chops covered by a sumptuous serving of gravy.
It was a clear day, having a pleasant temperature of around thirty-two degrees. The sky was bright and light blue as it was still about an hour before sunset. Looking through the kitchen window from his fourth floor apartment, the boats that lay at anchor, lazily bobbed up and down in the choppy waters stirred by the stiff afternoon southerly wind - locally known as the Fremantle Doctor. It was a cool and fresh wind blowing anywhere between fifteen and twenty-five knots. Without it, the long, hot summer days would almost become unbearable with temperatures likely to exceed forty degrees Celsius.
Walking out onto the balcony he deeply breathed in the salty…
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