Apprentice Lost in Parallel. Kevin Colbran
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finger I gently as possible drove out of the garage and onto the driveway, curving around to the left, passed a large building. Coming into view was a sign: 'Factory and Research facility' on a sign with a logo of an Old English soldier in chain mail and helmet holding a firebrand, and a white shield adorned with three red hunting horns.
Senior explained the logo as being a visual interpretation of our family name, Norse for firebrand or helmeted warrior. "We will come back to that one later." Swinging past low-set houses and apartment buildings, "Workers accommodation" driving around a smooth avenue which didn’t seem to go anywhere, "Bike and car learner circuit", by now I was getting used to the difference in driving and the improvement in performance.
"Is there any chance of me borrowing this?" I asked, remembering how embarrassed I had been when I joined the lunchtime apprentice drive around Mascot. The wise guy of the class had changed down and revved up; when I did, the old morrie had stood on its’ nose as it had too low a third gear.
Senior laughed, "Yep I remember. I get asked that every time one of you drive it, well what you can do is to upgrade one yourself to just a bit better than Chris' car, which had an Austen Healy Sprite motor and gearbox. If we fit parts from a Datsun 1200 which has the right parts to give you an edge, this one would get you into all sorts of trouble; at least until you have had more experience."
I suppose I had to be satisfied with that and we continued with the drive, next was a lane leading to a big shed into which were entering and leaving, long lines of trucks. "The Toowoomba city bypass gateway," on the smaller road we were on was an open doorway, "Stop here a sec." flipping down the glove box which now showed a screen with a keyboard. Tapping a code into the unit, "Drive on", I moved the car into the shed feeling the twisting sensation, "Drive up to the line and when the green light shows, drive through the exit."
Doing this we departed from a similar shed, "East of Withcott now, Bottom of the range." Fishing around in his pocket he gave me an oblong card covered in plastic, examining this I could see that it had my photo on it. "Park the car over there for it a moment; I have to put P plates on, that is a current provisional license so that you can drive back through Toowoomba.”
Senior hopped out and put two plates on, magnetic I suppose as they stayed in place. "When it is safe, turn right, and we will head back up the hill then you will see how much time is saved."
"Remember that the 100 sign means 60 miles per hour, the 80 means 45 and the 60 mean 35 as this car still has miles per hour speedometer."
Following directions we toured through the town of Withcott, Wow they certainly have a lot of signs, speed and warning of Police and speed cameras. Leaving Withcott, the zones went from 60 to 80 to 100 very quickly, and I was pleasantly surprised that the Morrie zoomed up to the speed without hesitation even climbing a steep ascent with the same contempt that my car treated downhill. My old Morrie needed a good downhill run to even look at 60mph (100), and we can forget the up hills.
Towards the middle of the hill, signs restricted the speed to 70 kph, then 60 as we entered Toowoomba proper, heading down the hill on a four-lane street lined with trees. "Warrego Highway which heads west," then as we crossed another four-lane road, "That's the New England Highway which goes north-south. Turn left at the second traffic lights, then turn right. Stop here, that's my home."
He then took me inside and introduced me to Wendy as the ‘new’ one. This reception felt strange to meet someone that you had met yet hadn't. This Wendy seemed well used to the idea of having multiple Kevs hanging around, not commenting beyond welcoming me.
Seated again in the morrie we again headed west towards Charlton to the factory complex.
I commented, "Yes that is quite a fair way in time and distance. Is it popular amongst the truck drivers?"
"Too right it is; the saving for a truck is about $25 in time and fuel. We have been waiting about 20 years for a bypass," Said Senior. "There are about 2500 trucks a day using it at $10 per trip, apart from taking that number out of town it employs several people."
"The projected use for the next five years indicates the numbers will nearly double and the cost-saving another five dollars per trip. So when we start franchising for other cities around the world, the income will become embarrassing."
Driving back into the compound, Senior directed to park back in the garage. "Next visit is to the prototype room so I can show off the range of toys." Walking this time over to the research facility, Senior ushered me into the right side annexe.
First peering into a small window then laying his hands onto a flat panel, saying "Open says me" Indicating that I should do the same I went through the same routine. As I completed this, the door swung open.
"The door won't open unless all those present are cleared." Senior explained, "A camera takes a picture of your iris, the pad checks the fingerprints, the sweat for stress and lastly a microphone matches a voice print. If anything doesn't agree with authorised people, all sorts of alarms go off, and of course, the door doesn't open." Musing, "Tried thinking of something scary which slightly changed my sweat and pulse rate; that was enough," shaking his head at the memory, added, "won't try that again."
We entered the room; there was a row of shop manikins lined up one wall contained within a glass-fronted case. These ranged from a vest with pockets, to what looked like a motorcycle racing suit.
At the 'feet ' were what appeared to be toy guns made of yellow and red plastic sitting in individual supports. Walking down the line, Senior described them. The vest being an attractive offering, it allows police officers somewhere to stick their bits and pieces as well as the Kinetic Field and batteries to power it. At its feet was the first production sleep gun, deliberately made in orange plastic to indicate the non-lethal effect.
The next was just a belt which incorporated the field so that someone in the civilian dress could wear it; the accompanying 'gun' was just a small, slim device. "The big ones are just larger to have a presence, as the miniature one doesn't impress 'macho' policemen or their customers."
As we passed the more involved suits, senior explained that these were the military offerings culminating in the Fearnaught and Dreadnaught indicating a high degree of defence and offensive equipment incorporated. The factory constructs the armour of the vests and suits from synthetic spider silk, ‘dragon scale’ ceramic plates (lately invented by the CSIRO) supported with rubber foam to provide ventilation and shock spreading.
The most advanced suit is called the Dreadnaught, apart from the field and knock out gadgets, has remote air via the gate; without the field on, will still stop a high velocity round and so of course, a knife, as the kinetic field doesn't stop a slow push. The outer layer also has inbuilt exoskeleton power enhancement, allowing better than Olympic standard athletic abilities such as running a marathon at 100-meter sprint pace. "It would be banned from any competition."
Directing me to a side room which had a manikin set up at the end had the simplest belt fitted, with targets alongside, at the nearest end a bench with several pistols lying on it. Senior described this was a soundproofed firing range.
First handing me a set of earmuffs and goggles, he donned a set himself. Then selecting an automatic pistol, after first pressing a button to turn on warning lights, he then proceeded to fire two rounds into the target and then fired another two into the manikin.
Unloading and applying the safety on the pistol then killing the red lights. Senior then waved me forward removing the safety gear. The bulls-eye of the target now had two holes in the middle, and lying on the ground just short of the dummy were two spent rounds.
"Pretty effective don't you think," Senior said proudly. Reaching back he picked up a metal rod from the bench and handing it to me, indicating the dummy. I then slashed at it, felt like stirring wet cement, then I poked at it, and the rod slid easily through to the dummy. "That's the weakness, but with a baton or basic body armour, this is not a big problem," Senior explained.
“Now,” Senior went on returning to the bench and picking up one of the ‘toy’ guns. ”Watch this.” He then fired towards the target. A quiet 'whit' and a puff of orange dye appeared in front of the target. “The