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============= = Chapter 1 = =============
Stephanie had a car full of washing. She also had all day. Ewen Hill
was a landmark she scaled every weekend, but it still inspired
nostalgia inside her, and she fondly looked forward throughout the
week to driving up it and arriving at Drago's house.
Her old Toyota Celica pulled up at his house on Princess
Road. Frequently she was in a rush to get her washing done on the
weekends---she usually had to work on Saturday mornings. It always
baffled her how her clients would suddenly require a contract to be
completed at short notice after disappearing and going quiet for some
weeks.
But not this weekend. Which was a relief. She enjoyed an opportunity
to bask in the unkempt choas of Drago's two-bit operation. Some new
development in his illegal backyard industrial laundry had always
transpired, and she had missed the last two weekends of
gossip. Stephanie was eager to find out who else now was on his shit
list, and what new scheme he had hatched to steal more electricity
from the power grid.
She heaved a laundry basket out of the back seat of the hatchback, and
hoisted three pairs of trackpants under her other arm. This was an
enormous load this time. She forgot if it had been two or three weeks
without doing any laundry.
Stephanie hobbled over the concrete slab path through the front yard
and onto the veranda, going back to collect whatever she had
dropped. By now the tremendous din of industrial dry cleaning
machinery was very present.
"DRAGO!"---Stephanie always wondered why this old man refused to
install a door bell or ... bell ... or some method of detecting human
life outside the house during the operating of his laundry heist.
Nothing.
She took out her phone and began to dial his number. At that moment,
Drago finally called out.
"Ah yes! Coming! Yes!" The front door opened, and the almighty wall of
laundry machine noiose arrived with the old man.
"That is a lot of washing!"
"Sorry, Drago---"
"Nevermind, it won't take long. Come in, come in."
Drago might live at this house, and sometimes might not. Quite often
not. It was indeed his house---or one of his houses---Stephanie could
never quite work out if he had another house where he lived, or
whether he used this permanent dwelling for running a racket, and in
fact chose to sleep in a tent, or trailer, or ... in the garage under
the house.
In any case Drago was definitely _not_ in a dressing gown today, and
was looking quite well-presented. He was in whatever he wore when he
was not in a dressing gown---jeans and a flannel shirt. He had a big
moustache, which was the same colour as his hair (quite well combed
today)---shock white.
"You look well!" Stephanie put her washing down in the living room,
facing the old man.
"Yes! Yes! I feel excellent!" Drago beamed. "I have been out and
about---Lake Monger was quite nice this morning."
"Oh, you were up early!" The old man seemed to Stephanie to be
unusually organised and chipper this week. "I hear the uh, plant is
running quite busily today."
"Yes! We have entered the next phase---I have won a contract with one
of the army bases---I think this might end up being quite lucritive!"
Stephanie was a little in disbelief, but Drago had pulled off some
spectacular scams in the past. If he had actually assessed the
security of his incoming work this time, this might actually be---"
"I think this is the big one, Stephanie!" Drago seemed to have gone
over to the livingroom's front window. He was facing the front yard,
hands behind his back.
"You don't say! That's good news!"
"It has actually been quite a while now. Bedsheets, uniforms---maybe
three or four months now?"
"Oh---gosh. I never noticed."
"You have been very busy lately---I don't think we have talked like
this in a long time."
"You're probably right Anyway---which base?"
"Swanbourne, I think."
"Drago---that's the SAS barracks---I'd watch out if I were you! Aren't
they the special forces?"
"I thought the same way as you, before, and at first there was a lot
of scrutiny, but they seem to have calmed down now and looked the
other way. It seems to be working out quite well---so far, at least."
"Wow. Excellent."
"Yes that was the whole point of the laundry business in the first
place. We needed to be able to get into the base---perhaps use the
uniforms---I have some level of clearance now, it is quite the heist
sof ar. I am quite pleased with my progress."
"Why do you go to such lengths just to do something you could easily
take care of through..." Stephanie always struggled with finding the
right words for the strange concept of Drago's gambit---"I don't
know---other means---?"
"Things have not been going so well for all the old people back home."
Drago was still facing the window, but he was now looking down.
"What do you mean?"
"The people have been feeling weaker and more sickly as of late."
"I'm sorry, I've been off without you---I didn't realise it was going
this badly so quickly."
"Not, it has been like this for some time now, perhaps the whole time
we have known each other. I wouldn't be here in Perth at all if I
didn't have to be. I suppose I talk about Perth as if it is a prison
or ... a wasteland---and it is true tht I did not move here out of
choice, but I have grown to like it here."
"There has to be some other way---you could have chosen another city."
"Oh---no. Perth is nice and windy. Also it is exceptionally low in
surveillance and laughably incompetent in state control, I have been
able to get away with incredible missions undetected, even if a great
many of them have failed. Remember the satellite we almost stole?"
"How did you get away with that one?"
"I think I just sold it back to the TV company---or did I jsut hand
them back control anonymously?"
"Wasn't this the 'eBay solution'?"
"Oh yes. That's right."
Both Drago and Stephanie grinned nostalgically. Drago, however,
quickily appeared pensive, and sighed heavily. He turned to face
Stephanie and the enormous pile of laundry spilling out at her feet.
"We are in big trouble, my human friend."
"Moreso than usual?"
"Yes, we are all sliding back very definitely into physical, corporeal
form now, our ability to sustain the process of apperception is
faltering very seriously. If someone or some faction doesn't make some
progress to restoring our live force, I think the ... "fascists" ... I
think you called them, will be able to advance. They have been
noticeably stronger and more in number lately, and are much more vocal
as of late."
"I suppose that explains the urgency here of your mission here on
Earth. Trying to infiltrate the Swanbourne Barracks may be the last
chance you have at getting out of the third dimension."
"Yes. The avenues we have for gaining access to enough conceptual
apperceptive power are now severely limited. At least within my
circles, we ony have one other strategy besides this one for gaining
the upper hand if we fail---again---this time."
"Yes, I think I remember you saying that."
"I wish it did not have to be this way."
"Yes, I often think the same thing all the time---the human race has
not been going so well either."
"Both of our civilisations are sliding back into barbarism. If either
of us fail it will mean the destruction of both our kind."
"Really? How do we humans affect your civilisation at all? We must be
like little ants to you!"
"Well, my people currently have the ability to sustain the projection
of a three dimensional space roughly three or four times the volume of
your solar system's Jupiter at present moment, but at the rate at
which that corridor of space is collapsing, I do not think we will be
able toe vacuate even most of the colony we have---even if we start
right now. There will simply not be enough time."
"Has it gotten that bad?"
"Stephanie---the collapse and destruction of my people will always be
virtually certain so long as we have to subsist in three dimensional
form."
"You never told me that!"
"Yes, we are in big trouble. The operation to infiltrate the
Swanbourne Barracks is scheduled to begin in a month's time. If I
didn't see you today, and this mission also fails, It is highly likely
that I won't ever see you again.
The horrible mid-20th century wallpaper peeing around the two was a
ridiculous setting for a conversation of such gravity.
Stephanie stood there, dumbfounded. Her eyes darted around the gaudy
room as she searched herself for some way to discover another set of
options for Drago to consider.
"Well then I'm coming with you. And I won't take no for an answer. I
feel terrible that I have neglected you for so long.
Drago shrugged. "If you wish. I do not think you will be in any
particular danger."
"What?"
"Of course you can come on the mission."
"Won't it be dangerous?"
"What?"
"Won't the infiltration of the base put our lives in danger?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Couldn't we be shot?"
Drago furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"
"I assume we'll be entering the Swanbourne Barracks base, and then
commandeering a nuclear submarine or something, and harnessing its
energy---or something similar."
Drago shook his head slowly, in slight disbelief at what he was
hearing---"no, no---quite a great deal of the mission will avoid three
dimensional space altogether."
"I see." Stephanie realised she had absolutely no idea what was going
on. "Then what is the point of doing the military's laundry?"
"I forget what the Australian Army calls the head dictator of the SAS
Barracks, but so far as it concerns persisting in the third dimension
of physical existence, I merely need to be in direct physical line of
sight of this person, on Earth."
"Why are you going to all this trouble, then?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you trying to get into the Barracks?"
"The Commandant or Chief Inquistor lives there."
"No they don't."
"Drago's eyes widened. "Is this an attempt at humour?"
"No---the Field Marshall or Staff Seargent or whatever they are called
lives in Peppermint Grove."
Drago moved to one of the luxuirous---looking recliners to his left
and threw himself into it. He covered his face with his hands and
groaned. "I have been concealing the theft of enormous quantities of
electricity at great difficulty for almost nine months now. I was lead
to belief the Assistant Admiral of the SAS would be regularly having
their uniform laundered."
"Drago---it is the weekend---he is probably at home in his mansion in
Peppermint Grove watching sport on his TV. I can take you there right
now."
Drago continued to shield his face with his hands---"alright. Let's
go. My comrades will not be pleased. The amount of transcendental
apperception it has taken to sustain me in this form n Earth has been
bleeding my community dry. I really have no idea what I am doing in
this idiotic dimension!"
Stephanie leaned down and took hold on Drago's arm:
"Come on space man, it's not far.