War/Peace. Matthew Vandenberg
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both sitting at a large table, some empty plates in front of them.
'Adrian!' Shaun yells. 'You made it! Holy fuckin' shit, the guy made it! He's here. Chloe!' – Shaun turns to Chloe – 'This is the guy I was telling you about. He's the writer. He's big in the States.'
'Hey, glad you came,' Chloe says.
'Hey, nice goin' dude,' Jackson says, standing up. He strolls over to me. 'How was it getting here? Man, the south-siders hate your arse.'
'I'm alive,' I say. I look at the helmet in my hands.
'You came on a bike?' Jackson asks.
'Yeah,' I say.
'Are the guards minding it?'
'It's on the street,' I say. 'A south-sider pegged a stone at the wheel. Wasn't real hurt, just shocked. It could've been serious, though.'
'Then the bike's trashed by now,' Shaun says.
'Wasn't a good bike anyway,' I say, tossing my helmet aside. 'It got me here though and that's all that matters. So what's going on? Are you waiting for lunch or something?'
'See our shirts,' Chloe says. 'Red. We're the north-siders. You've got Shelly and Jerri in the kitchen, they're south-siders. They're in yellow. So right now, each team has got to make a meal. They've got first turn in the kitchen. They should be done soon. We're just sittin', chattin' before we go into the kitchen.'
'We gotta put magic mushrooms into the dishes as well,' Shaun says. 'Big Brother says. But never mind that. What have you been up to? How are things out there man?'
'War zone,' I say, shrugging. 'Especially near Central. I was hiding out in Liverpool. There are quite a few north-siders there, and living peacefully with south-siders as well. I think Sydney's west ain't too bad.'
'You rode from Liverpool to here?' Jackson asks.
'Rode? If you call dodging SUV's, and cruising down streets where stones fall like hail riding then yeah, I guess I did.'
'Shelly and Jerri are pretty cool,' Chloe says. 'For south-siders.'
'I know,' I say. 'They were my mates back in high. They're still my mates. Haven't been in touch for a while, obviously. But I know they're not like the others. Did you go to any of those stupid rallies at Gosford?'
'Yeah,' Jackson says. 'Jay Z was there.'
'They're telling us to hunt down south-siders! What the hell? As though Catholics are criminals or something. Some of them are, but . . . I don't think it's their fault. If we're being told by Keneally, by Jay Z, by the St Kilda football team, that south-siders are freaks then I bet the pastors in the south are telling the south-siders that northerners are evil or something. People are so fuckin' gullible they're eating this shit up like it's . . . what's that smell?'
'Shelly's dish,' Shaun says. 'Not bad.'
'Yeah,' I say.
'Take a seat,' Jackson says. 'It's not our turn for another quarter hour.'
I pull out a chair and sit down.
'Oh – I got in touch with someone,' I say, leaning forward. 'An American researcher. She told me there are heaps of places like this in the south, they're like universities. She couldn't tell me where they are, but I found out through the FB that there was one here.'
'Just like Shelly,' Chloe says.
'She tells me that this ain't an easy task, what we're trying to do here.'
'What are we trying to do?' Jackson asks. 'Far as I know we're here to have a good time, while everyone out there is fighting.'
'That's right,' I say. 'But there's a little more to it. You see, they want more north-siders and more south-siders to join us. But once you step into the house you can't leave, because you know who's inside and this could compromise their safety.'
'But the viewers – everyone watching us on Fox, on MTV, they know who's in here,' Chloe remarks.
'Do you really think the south-siders watch Fox. It's an American channel. Besides, the authorities deny them access to the American stations. The southerners are as isolated from the world as North Koreans right now.'
'Doesn't surprise me,' Jackson says.
'Here's the thing,' I continue. 'We're gonna have more and more north-siders and south-siders enter this house, and there are gonna be celebs – high profile people – dropping in. The goal is to get the most hardcore northerners and southerners in the same house, in the same room. We got a fuckin' mini UN here guys. This'll be the world run by teens. We're gonna have to keep the peace.'
'We're gonna have religious nuts coming in here!?' Chloe yells. 'You have got to be fuckin' kidding me! Shelly and Jerri, they're real nice. But they are not average south-siders! They're like northerners. I do not want real south-siders in this joint. This is a north-sider safe-house for fuck's sake.'
'You said the same thing before Shelly and Jerri arrived,' Jackson says. 'And look how nice they are.'
'Chloe,' I say, holding out a hand. She takes it in hers. 'They ain't gonna try anything in here. We're all just gonna talk. That's why we're all here, to talk. No one is allowed to bring in any weapons.'
'What if they drug us?' Chloe says. 'We'll be eating magic mushrooms soon so that we can become more spiritual. That's one thing, but what if they feed us a drug that puts us to sleep, permanently? You know how the cults work. Jonestown. Cyanide poisoning. And that was on American soil. Imagine what could happen to us here, in the south!'
'Don't you think they're scared of us too?' I say. 'They got us pegged as murderers, rapists, satanists.'
'But we're not,' Chloe says. 'That's just stupid.'
'Exactly,' Jackson says. 'That's the point.'
'Look,' I say. 'It's a hard game, regardless. I don't blame Chloe for thinking this way. This researcher I spoke to, she says that awareness of your own mortality – awareness that you will not live forever – can cause you to like those in your group more, and to despise those not in your group*. When you're on the battleground in Afghanistan you're gonna stick by your men, right? You're not going to run over to some Afghans and have a chat unless you're with your men and you know you can count on them to protect you should the need arise.'
'Who have we got to protect us here?' Chloe asks.
'The American people,' I say, grinning. 'We're on Fox, we're on MTV. They're behind us all the way, watching every move we make, listening to every breath we take like Sting. They're stalking us, and we'll be safe so long as they keep their eyes on us.'
'Do they have any advice on how we can get south-siders in the sack?' Shaun says, smiling.
'Actually,' I say. 'You know, that might depend on self-esteem. A person who doesn't feel good about his or her body will have a less positive attitude towards sex when reminded about death than someone who loves his or her body**. Living in a war zone, we're reminded of death daily. So if someone has low body esteem then they ain't gonna wanna have sex right now. And also, if this person is highly neurotic then' – I glance at the kitchen - 'she'll find the physical aspects of sex less appealing***.'
'Shelly,' Chloe says. 'That's Shelly, right there. I know she's interested in Jerri. It's so obvious. But she's scared.'
'Jerri?' I say. 'Whoa! You serious?'
'Shhh,' Jackson says. 'Keep it down. They'll hear us.'
'Are you serious?' I repeat. 'Shelly's gay? Who would've thought?'
'And a south-sider,' Jackson says. 'So when she's out there she's in the closet. In here however . . .'
'The viewers'll love this,' Shaun says. 'Especially the guys.'
'So Jackson,' I say. 'I so did not expect to see you here.'
'This guy's an established pimp,' Shaun says, shrugging. 'He represents north-side. He's the dope right now. Who would've