Catch Me If I Fall

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Alan Turing. Look him up on your tablet. He’s a really old computer guy, one of the first to even think about computers. He came up with a test to determine whether machines can actually think.’ Aiden stared off into the distance as if marshalling his memories and arranging his thoughts. I waited. ‘He proposed a kind of game. Have one person, the tester, in a room with a computer that’s connected to two other rooms, each with computers. In one of the rooms is a person, but in the other room there’s just the computer and the code that works it. Now have the tester ask questions of the other two rooms. In one, a person will type in their response; in the other the computer will do it. What does it mean if the tester can’t tell what is a human response and what is a machine’s response, no matter how many questions he asks?’

  I tried thinking this through, but it was difficult.

  ‘It doesn’t mean the computer can think,’ I said finally. ‘It just means the computer can imitate a person really well.’

  ‘But if it can imitate it so well that no one can ever tell the difference, it becomes human, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Errr …’

  ‘Or maybe people’s minds are really just like exceptionally sophisticated computers that are programmed to produce emotions like love. That would work, wouldn’t it? We’d all be asking the wrong question. It’s not, “Can machines become human?” but “Are humans really just another type of machine?” If so, then we can love machines and they can love us back. They’d be alive, just as we are alive. Of course, then there’s John Searle and the Chinese Room thought experiment …’

  I held up a hand.

  ‘Aiden,’ I said. ‘My brain, the computer in my head, whatever, is hurting right now. And it’s really tired. Tell me about it some other time. I’m going back to bed.’ I scuffed Zorro under the chin and he licked my hand. ‘Love you, puppy,’ I said. ‘And you, bro,’ I said to Aiden.

  He laughed.

  When I got to the door, he spoke once more.

  ‘Another thing I’ve been thinking about, Ash,’ he said. ‘That girl in the park. Xena.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I want to talk to her again.’

  That stopped me. I’d been thinking about her on and off as well and as soon as Aiden said he wanted to speak to her, I realised that was something I wanted too. But it was impossible, so I’d never allowed the wish to properly form.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I think she might have answers to other questions I need answered.’

  ‘Like what?’

  But Aiden was back inside his own head and I don’t think he even heard me.

  Aiden was in the clinic most of the following day, but when he got back he seemed much happier. The frame was gone and he was walking, though I think I detected a very slight limp in his right leg. Dad agreed that we could both go swimming, though he put a one-hour limit on it. More importantly, he told us that he and Mum were agreed that we could both go back to school on Monday. That gave us just three more days of being cooped up in the house.

  Z improved slightly at swimming. Aiden and I took it in turns to hold him in the water, one hand under his belly, and get him to make walking movements. When all four legs were going, we’d let go and he would swim maybe a couple of metres before he’d stop and sink like a brick. Aiden dived and got him each time. I struggled to dive that deep, whereas my brother made it look easy.

  We rested at the side of the pool. Dad seemed to have forgotten the hour rule and we weren’t going to remind him. I put my arm around Aiden’s shoulders.

  ‘Are you ready to move back into our bedroom?’ I asked.

  ‘Not really,’ he said. There was no hesitation. He kicked away from the wall and floated on his back a metre away, staring at the ceiling. ‘I like having my own room. It feels like a place I don’t have to share. I asked Mum and Dad and they said I could stay where I am.’ He scissored up to face me, treading water. ‘No offence, Ash. And anyway, you’ve always moaned about having me in there. Plus, let’s be honest. We’re both thirteen now. It’s not like we’re kids afraid of the dark.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, as breezily as I could manage. ‘Way too old to be sharing a room.’ I splashed him in the face. ‘I don’t even like you,’ I added.

  ‘You said you loved me last night.’

  ‘That’s when you were sick and stuck in that wheelchair. I felt sorry for you.’

  He splashed me back and that started a proper water war, which got us both laughing.

  So why was it that I felt a little sad when I thought about going to bed that night?

  9

  The class gave us a round of applause when we entered the classroom the following Monday. This time I didn’t feel embarrassed at being the centre of attention. I even gave a small bow before sitting down next to Charlotte.

  ‘Welcome back,’ said Mr Meredith. ‘We’ve missed you, Ashleigh and Aiden Delatour, and we’re thrilled you have returned to the fold. If you see me at recess, I will let you know the work you’ve missed. Now.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Time, class, to learn about the Great European Famine of Thirty-Two. Please make notes on your tablets and pay attention …’

  Charlotte’s father picked us up after school. Dad came for Aiden and, as arranged, handed over a small case with pyjamas and toiletries in it for me. I was excited about having a sleepover at Charlotte’s house – I mean, home was great, but occasionally I longed for something different. I wondered if that was why I’d been thinking about Xena recently.

  Charlotte’s dad was small and full of nervous energy. He shook my hand as he introduced himself, but couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a second. His gaze flitted everywhere, as if he was afraid of missing something or someone more important. His hand was slightly clammy and when he let go of mine, I wiped it on the back of my dress.

  We hadn’t been driving for more than a minute when he gave Charlotte the news.

  ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the visit to the riding club,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Something’s come up.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ said Charlotte. ‘You promised.’

  ‘I know. I know.’ His fingers tapped on the steering wheel. ‘One of my men rang in sick and we have a function this afternoon. An important function. I’ve got to go in his place.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Charlotte, we cannot afford …’ His voice was firm and he glanced at us in the rear-view mirror. When he spoke again his tone was calmer. ‘We’ll talk about this later. Okay? I meant what I said. The contacts there could be very useful. And I promise we will go at some time. Just not tonight.’ His eyes skidded over mine for a moment. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Ashleigh.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ I replied. ‘I’m just happy to hang out with Charlotte.’ It was true, but I’m not sure he believed me because he promised I’d be invited to the reorganised trip. Charlotte squeezed my hand as if sympathising with my disappointment. I didn’t tell her it was non-existent.

  The journey to Charlotte’s house took a little over twenty minutes, through an area of Sydney I hadn’t seen before. Some of it was fire-ravaged, swathes of houses and parklands charred and bleak in the afternoon sun. It was depressing and I was glad when the housing estate appeared, as if offering refuge, in the distance. Charlotte’s father pressed a button on the dashboard of the car and a gate in the estate’s wall opened up as we approached, then closed behind us.

  The estate itself was neat, ordered and obviously well-maintained. Front gardens were nicely manicured and a few people walked the streets. They waved at the car as we passed. Charlotte’s house was somewhere near the middle of the estate and it was much bigger than other houses we’d passed. It was also different in that it was fenced in its own grounds. Once again, Charlotte’s father pressed a button and part of the fencing slid back to let the car in.

  ‘Welcome to my home,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘It’s great,’
I said. It was detached and had clearly been extended. I thought I could see a glass conservatory to one side of the building, but it became lost to view as we drove up to the front door. The car doors swung open and Charlotte and I got out.

  ‘I’ll be back for dinner,’ said Charlotte’s father through the driver’s window. ‘Eight o’clock sharp, Charlotte.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And remember what I said about making up for lost time. You hear me?’

  ‘Sure, Dad,’ Charlotte called back.

  And the car drove back the way we’d come.

  ‘Your father works a lot?’ I asked.

  Charlotte’s mouth twisted. ‘A lot? No. He works all the time. All the time. Even when he’s home he’s working. He works in his sleep.’

  I laughed, but Charlotte didn’t even smile.

  Her bedroom was small, but nicely decorated. A queen-sized bed faced the lone window and there was a couch against one wall. Charlotte had already warned me we’d be sharing the bed and I was cool with that. Provided she didn’t fart.

  Most of the room was obviously dedicated to study. A huge desk took up the longest wall and on it were writing materials and a handful of old books, as well as a standalone tablet built into the wall. Above the tablet was a huge sign.

  Winners embrace hard work. Losers see it as punishment. And that’s the difference. Underneath the words was the name Lou Holtz.

  ‘Who’s he?’ I asked Charlotte.

  ‘A twentieth-century sporting icon. He specialised in motivational quotes.’

  I tried to look impressed, but I’m not sure I succeeded.

  ‘I really like your room,’ I said. And I did, too. Mine was about three times the size and my bed was much bigger as well, but her room was … cosy.

  I lay down on the bed and Charlotte took the couch. I put my hands behind my head and examined another sign on the ceiling above me. The best way to predict your future is to create it. That, apparently, was by someone called Abraham Lincoln. What was it with signs in this household? I thought about asking Charlotte, but then decided to give it a pass.

  ‘I’m a bit worried about Aiden,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’

  I explained how Aiden had been acting strange recently. That he spent more time on his own and much of that time he was staring into space. Thinking, apparently. I gave her a quick rundown of the strange conversation we’d had in his bedroom the night Charlotte stayed over. What I didn’t say was that I was concerned his focus no longer seemed to be exclusively on me, but rather in the private world of his own mind. True, I’d often complained that he was too attentive. Now I was bothered that he wasn’t attentive enough. Maybe I should do some of my own thinking, take a long, hard look at myself in the process.

  ‘Puberty,’ said Charlotte when I was done.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Puberty,’ she said again. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know what puberty means, Ashleigh.’

  Of course I knew what puberty meant. It was just that I’d never thought of applying it to me or anyone else. Maybe I’d just assumed Aiden and I would stay kids forever.

  ‘It’s the start of the process whereby both girls and boys prepare for parenthood, turning from kids to adults …’

  ‘Yeah, Charlotte, I know …’ But I might as well have been trying to stop a runaway truck with an outstretched hand.

  ‘It all starts with gonadotropin-releasing hormones, which the hypothalamus secretes at the start of puberty. When that GnRH hits the pituitary gland, a pea-sized organ in the brain, then – bang – the chain reaction starts.’

  ‘Yes …’

  ‘Two more hormones are released in both males and females – luteinising hormone and follicle-stimulating hormone and these go to work on the body. In a boy they go to the testes …’

  ‘Please, Charlotte …’

  ‘… where they produce testosterone. In girls, however, they target the ovaries and produce oestrogen. Of course, all of this produces some dramatic changes in the bodies of both sexes.’

  ‘How do you know all this stuff, Charlotte? You’re like a walking textbook.’ I wasn’t going to stop her by conventional means, so I thought I’d appeal to her vanity. It worked.

  ‘I study,’ said Charlotte. She pointed to the sign above my head. ‘That’s the only way to create my future.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. I thought that maybe other things were more vital. Food and drink, for example. Breathing. But I decided to keep those thoughts to myself. ‘So you reckon these hormones are messing with Aiden’s head? That he’s started puberty?’

  ‘That’s my diagnosis,’ said Charlotte with what seemed like considerable satisfaction. ‘Hormones play havoc with emotions as well as bodily functions. We could get moody or depressed, become entirely unpredictable. Often parents think their kid has turned into some kind of monster …’

  I zoned out then. Aiden had started puberty? It made sense, though happening pretty much bang on our thirteenth birthday seemed a coincidence. I thought about my own feelings, did a mental check of my body, but I couldn’t really detect any changes. Maybe my – what had Charlotte called it? GBH or some acronym? Maybe that hormone was on its way to my bits and I’d wake up tomorrow all hairy and grumpy. It was a disturbing thought.

  Charlotte’s father didn’t turn up to dinner. In fact, I didn’t see him until the following morning when he drove us to school. So that evening, at eight o’clock sharp, we ate a limp salad with obviously fake chicken slices by ourselves. Her mother didn’t join us either. She put the food out on plates in front of us, smiled at me nervously and then bustled off somewhere. I was beginning to realise that in Charlotte’s household everyone was busy all the time. Maybe Charlotte’s comment about her dad wasn’t a joke. Maybe they did all work in their sleep.

  I brought up the subject later that night when we were lying in bed, waiting for sleep but trying to put it off at the same time. I hadn’t heard the car come back and Charlotte’s bedroom was just above the front door.

  ‘What’s your dad’s job, Charlotte?’

  ‘He’s a security manager,’ she replied. ‘This community. Most of the families here work for Dad. That’s why we’ve got the nicest house in the place. He employs hundreds of people, some who are responsible for keeping this community safe, but others who are hired out for special functions.’ She yawned and I couldn’t blame her. The conversation was a bit boring. ‘That’s where he must be now. I don’t know. I don’t ask much about his work.’

  ‘Does this community need to be kept safe?’

  Charlotte rolled onto her side, put her cheek on her hand and regarded me as if I’d lost my mind.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘That’s why there’s a wall around the perimeter. To keep us in and others out. It’s one of the reasons our house is the most secure here. The closer you live to the wall, the more chance there is of being attacked by anyone getting over or through it. That’s why it’s guarded twenty-four seven. Come on, Ash. You must know something about security. What protections are in place at your house?’

  I shrugged. Aiden had had plenty to say on the subject, but it wasn’t something I’d paid any attention to. It wasn’t something I’d needed to pay attention to.

  ‘My dad might have been the one who installed whatever security you have. He’s an expert in this sort of stuff. But whatever you have, it must be pretty sophisticated. The fact there’s no wall around your house tells me that.’

  Now I yawned. I could feel sleep sneaking up on me. Before it could claim me, one small niggle at the back of my mind demanded attention.

  ‘Charlotte?’

  ‘Hmmm?’ Sleep was stalking her as well.

  ‘Your dad said something about you making up lost time. When he dropped us off. What did he mean? Just tell me if it’s none of my business …’

  ‘Oh that. That’s about the time I’m spending with you, Ash.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This is time I coul
d spend studying. I should spend studying. So Mum and Dad made me agree that I would make up the time wasted today by studying extra for the rest of the week.’

  I gave that some thought. Wasted time? I didn’t understand. How could relaxation with a friend be wasted time?

  ‘I have a schedule for studying,’ she continued. ‘A certain number of hours per week. If I don’t do any tonight, I’ll have to make it up later, even if I have to work through the night. It’s non-negotiable.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’re rich, Ashleigh Delatour. Your mother and father will provide for you for the rest of your life. But most of us can’t bank on that. Mum and Dad work twenty-four seven, but that barely covers the cost of this place and educational fees. They sacrifice a huge amount just to keep me at school, even though I won a scholarship that pays three-quarters of the fees. The least I can do is work as hard as I can to provide for the future. One day I will be as rich and as powerful as your mother. Because, as the sign says, I’ll create my future. No one else will.’

  I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing. After a few minutes I heard Charlotte’s breathing fall into the rhythm of sleep. I tried to follow suit, but there were so many thoughts going around in my head. I’d assumed so much. I’d assumed Charlotte was naturally smart and possessed of a brilliant memory. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe she was forced to spend countless hours alone in this room just to give that impression. I’d assumed her parents were wealthy – not as wealthy as mine, naturally – but wealthy all the same. How else could they have afforded to send her on that ill-fated camp? I realised I had no proper understanding of how the world operated. Maybe Aiden was right. Maybe the Delatour family was determined to keep the ugly world at a distance so we couldn’t be offended by it.

  I eventually fell asleep, but my dreams were fractured and restless.

  I was woken by a siren in the middle of the night. It made me jolt upright in bed, my heart hammering. Charlotte barely stirred. Her eyes flickered open and she put a hand on my arm.