Cracker by Damian Christie

48:00.00 Yesterday at 1pm, President George W. Bush told Saddam Hussein and his cohorts to leave Baghdad. Where to go, he did not say; why, he was a bit dodgy on that one too; for how long was also left a bit up in the air, but had a ring of ‘permanently’ about it, rather than just suggesting Hussein looked tired and could do with a couple of weeks in the Med. The ‘when’ though, the ‘when’ was pretty certain. 48 hours.

47:51.43 You could feel the collective consciousness of the media industry slipping off its seat with excitement. Not that a war was imminent, not that finally something had happened, but that there was going to be a COUNTDOWN…

47:42.24 Within minutes, the TV3 promo department (subject to much attention of late) was in full swing. By the end of the 6pm bulletin that night we cut to a slick teaser for the next night’s bulletin: John Campbell “Join us tomorrow night on Three, when the countdown enters its final twenty-four hours!” One thing about Campbell, the man knows his subtraction.

47:41.94 On the station that brought you the inherently drawn-out Keifer Sutherland vehicle “24”, and its sequel “25” it all seemed to fit rather too well. It was hardly therefore surprising when a small stopwatch appeared in the bottom left-hand corner (the right-hand side, of course, being reserved for the company logo) and began counting down.

47:40.29 TV3 Sales & Marketing Sponsorship Account Manager Rod Nelson got on the phone with Vodafone. Were they interested in a tie-in deal? Txt the exact time the bombs start raining on Baghdad to win a prepay prize pack… The idea is put on hold until the final eight hours to avoid appearing too eager to commercialise on modern warfare.

47.24.78 A bidding war begins between the networks to secure viewing rights. TV2, with its deep pockets, comes out the winner, and announces a special double premiere feature over Wednesday and Thursday nights, 48 Hours and Another 48 Hours. Cadbury’s agrees on a sponsorship package.

46.58.47 TV1’s outgoing Head of Current Affairs Heaton Dyer decides to hold a Telethon to rebuild Iraq following the inevitable conflict. It will, he reasons, be his legacy in a position where he spent the best, well at least the most recent month-and-a-half of his life. The idea is scrapped when TVNZ’s new head of Interior Decorating points out that the red LCD screens which display the total amount raised would clash ever-so awfully with the new burnt sienna news set. The plan is scaled back to a powhiri and a sausage sizzle.

46.02.65 Parliament begins an urgent debate on the Iraq issue, now that it is really too late to do anything anyway. Filled with a sudden confidence, knowing that anything he might say is already irrelevant, National Leader Bill English finally decides on a position. “We shud,” he states, “support our tradushional ullies.”

46.01.35 When asked whether National believes we should send troops to the conflict, “in support of our tradushional ullies”, English backtracks, turns around, falls over and finds himself sitting in Gerry Brownlee’s lap. Why Gerry Brownlee insists on keeping his seat warm every time his beloved leader is addressing the House puzzles English, but now is not the time for such considerations. “That would depend on whether the US asked us to,” he observes insightfully.

46.01.32 Richard Prebble grunts in support.

As promised before I left for Australia, here's the complete Q&A of an interview I did a couple of months back with US author William Gibson shortly before the release of his latest novel, Pattern Recognition.

For those who know who Gibson is, great, but for those who don't, he's written about 8 books, the most famous is probably his first, Neuromancer, in which he basically predicts the advent of the Net. Obviously the Net had been around in a sense for some time before he wrote about it, but it was still quite a few years before the world truly came on-line. He's also credited with coining the word cyberspace, and is beloved by geeks around the world. Gibson has his own blog at www.williamgibsonbooks.com

The written-up article and my book review of Pattern Recognition appear in the Feb/March issue of Pavement Magazine, but given the constraints of how much you can fit in a one-page article, I thought it would be worth providing the full, unedited, unabridged, no-holds-barred Q&A here for your edification...

How does Pattern Recognition represent a departure from your previous works?

Pretend it's a first novel, I did myself. It's set in the present, has single-character narrative viewpoint, and isn't, particularly, science fiction. Those are all departures, for me.

The storyline aside, what was the underlying point you were trying to make with Pattern Recognition? (I'm hopeless at picking up themes and the like, I thought Animal Farm was just a sad story about some pigs...)

I'm not a didactic novelist. I think I'm trying to pose questions of the text, and by extension of the world. Or trying to discover questions to pose, more like it. Pattern Recognition seems to me to pose questions about branding, terrorism, and globalization, but I wouldn't go so far as to say what I think they are. That would usurp the reader's prerogative. There's a level at which I want it to be a mutually exploratory process. I don't think anyone else really needs my answers, but some people may find my questions useful, or at least entertaining.

Over the years you've been watching, do you think the Internet has gone from being an Information Superhighway to something more like an endless strip mall, set in the seedier part of town?

It's more like Jorge Luis Borges' Library of Babel, except that, interleaved with your Dante, sometimes invisibly, there are gum-wrappers, lost shopping-lists, bits of anonymous cellophane with a faded word or two. It's profound and banal simultaneously, and to the precisely the same staggering degree.

Given the plans we suspect Bigend had for the footage, or at least for its creators, what's your view on the art vs advertising: can advertising be art and vice versa? Or is this a swipe at advertisers who cynically use artists to promote their products? The David Lynch Playstation2 ads come to mind...

Bigend would probably tell you that advertising and *consciousness* are exactly the same thing, globally. He'd regard the distinction between art and advertising as almost perversely naive. But would you want to listen to Hubertus Bigend?

The word-of-mouth subversive marketing you write about, does it generate a particularly visceral reaction in you?

When I wrote the book, I assumed stories of this were urban legend, but after I'd turned in the manuscript, I saw a couple of accounts of it actually being done, in the United States. What was evident was that people in general had proven to have a very visceral, indeed violently negative reaction to it, and that it was being rethought by the ad companies. In one new model, a cute young Japanese couple stand outside the Empire State Building, recording one another with some utterly novel, to-die-for gadget. You see them, you ask about it, they show it to you, *but they can't speak English*.

Proof copies of Pattern Recognition are now apparently fetching over US$100 on e-bay -(don't worry, I wrote my name in my copy, like a geek, so it's staying on my shelf) - does it ever weird you out, being the generator of such passion, or at least willingness to part with good money, not to mention fans' websites etc? Flattering, unnerving, or both?

One of the nice things about being a novelist today is that the dose of celebrity is relatively homeopathic. I remember sitting on a restaurant terrace with Billy Idol in West Hollywood, being stunned by the extent to which the job of representing "Billy Idol" followed him around. (He said that in his view it was a lot like wearing one of those character-costumes at Disneyland.) We don't really get that, novelists. (My novel IDORU is about the mediation of personality, or vice versa.)

I've got quite a few concerns about what the internet and other technological developments are doing to the English language. Do you have similar concerns - do you find it paradoxical to be writing, in a literate manner and fluently, in and about an environment which seems to be doing a huge amount of damage to our language?

Living languages change. That's how you know they're living languages. I don't think they really become "damaged". (Telegraphy, interestingly, was often said to be damaging Victorian English.) What I find rather miraculous is that the Internet, and texting, have actually revived the practise of written communication. The power inherent in fluent and forceful communication assures that some people will invariable acquire it.

If we do lose some of the nuances of our language (not to mention now seemingly archaic concepts like "A collected book of the letters of William Gibson"), is it a worthwhile trade for the benefits we get from the Web?

What do you think your great-grandparents would think of the world today? Would they think that the "trade-off" had been worth it? I imagine it will be rather like that, in terms of what we might think of our great-grandchildren's world, but that they would be very uncomfortable at the thought of having to return to various aspects of ours. Actually, I doubt they'll think of us as entirely human, rather as some precursor-species.

Given the here-today-gone-tomorrow nature of writing on the Web (although it's amazing how long some things lurk there), do you find an output made of paper and glue a more reassuring? If you could earn $$$ writing solely in an electronic medium, would you consider it?

I don't see writing for the Web as differing that much from print journalism, in terms of longevity of impact. Twenty years ago, daily newspapers were utterly ephemeral, aside from microfiche and file-copies, and magazines only a little less so. Books won't go away, although eventually we'll each own a single book able to be whichever book we require it to be at that particular moment. I doubt we're twenty years from that, actually.

Unlike so many of the authors I've read/interviewed recently, Pattern Recognition has a "happy ending". Is this important to you, or just the best way to end this particular story?

I didn't have much say in the matter. I really do believe that if I'm doing the most demanding part of my job, the outcome of the narrative is, in a sense, none of my business.

The sub-plot with Cayce's father and 9/11. Was that a comment on the ubiquity of those events, or were you giving the book an historical context? (or neither!)

I began writing Pattern Recognition prior to 9/11, with the conscious intention that it be set in 2002. After 9/11, Cayce's backstory, her life in New York, became part of an alternate timetrack, a dead end. I went back, began again, and it all started to come together in a very different way. Easily my strangest experience as a novelist: as I was attempting, for the first time, to write a novel that arguably wasn't sf, contemporary reality, my subject, seemed to abruptly and with utmost violence demonstrate that it *was* sf.

We seem to be heading towards a war or two: you worried? As someone who exiled himself from the US (albeit some time ago now), do you have concerns about the current US administration?

I don't think it has all that much to do with this particular administration. Something is going to be played out here that is larger, and will take longer, than any administration. As someone from the CIA recently said to a colleague of mine, expect the United States to be "very, very *mean*" for about the next fifteen years.

What would your average day consist of? Between writing and surfing, do you get out much?

When I'm writing a novel, I get out less, but getting out is essential. I try to at least have lunch with someone, or, failing that, to lunch where I can observe live, unimaginary humans.

Cheers to Pavement for allowing me to reproduce this :)

In Australia, it’s okay for the Prime Minister to go to the Whitehouse, have a discussion with the President and come out addressing the nation with the phrase “We want Saddam Hussein to get Fair Dinkum!” Bush however, didn’t find it to his liking, apparently getting weighed down by the detail and reasoning of Mr Howard’s speech.

In Australia, marketing is either too easy, or they’re in desperate need of some talented Kiwi ad execs. “When you think of B&D, think of the best garages in Australia!” and “Lipton Black Tea – it’s the technical term for the brown tea you’ve always enjoyed” are true-life examples.

In Australia, in one of the main newspapers they have a section called “The Path to War.” The morning I read it the lead article in that section was “US/Australia free trade agreement proceeding well says P.M.”

In Australia, they have amazing snorkling and scuba diving. 1500 varieties of fish in the Great Barrier Reef alone, as well as some of the most amazing shapes and colours of coral.

The colour from coral is caused by an algae which lives on the coral. This algae can only survive within a narrow temperature band. Warming of the water in recent years, whether caused by global warming or a natural cyclic change has caused much of the algae to die off, resulting in underwater forests of dead white coral. The phenomenon is known as coral bleaching.

Strangely however, this algae has no problem living under your skin when you accidentally cut yourself on the coral while learning to scuba dive. Your hand gets really infected, swells up and you look like a retard.

In Australia, when you scuba dive, you must equalize the pressure in your ears upon your descent, approximately every 1 metre/3 feet. If you don’t, and keep descending, you could perforate your eardrums. The same applies on the ascent to the surface.

If you don’t equalize properly on your ascent, your ears remain blocked for a couple of days. You can’t hear, sound like Helen Keller with a heroin habit and have to talk in sign language. With a swollen hand.

In Australia, there’s a beach called Whitehaven Beach. It has the whitest sand anywhere in the world, due to the fact that it’s composed of 98.9% silica. It reflects the sun really well.

When you land on Whitehaven Beach, it is essential to remember to bring AND APPLY sunscreen, don’t just forget to bring it and leave it in your suitcase, reasoning that the ozone hole isn’t even near Australia and you’re 1/16 Maori or something anyway so it doesn’t matter. YOU WILL GET VERY BURNT.

In Australia, the Queensland town of Airlie Beach has a 1 to 4 male to female ratio, composed almost entirely of tanned early 20-something European backpackers.

In Australia, very few tanned early 20-something European backpackers are interested in a deaf-mute, red-elephantitis-handed, psoriasis-skinned travel writer.

Psoriasis is a serious skin condition affecting 2.6% of the population, most commonly diagnosed between the ages of 15 and 35. It is no laughing matter. Nor is it the name of a Russian space station.

In New Zealand, it’s surprising how interested Customs are in the film canister full of white powder you brought home.

Not so surprising is the difficulty convincing them it’s merely Whitehaven Beach sand, 98.9% silica ‘n’ all, when you’re completely deaf and the only phrase you can sign with your inflamed hand is “Keep Cool til After School”.

Jeez it’s great to be back home.

Just a quick note to let y'all know that I'm off on a travel writing junket for a couple of weeks in the Whitsunday Islands. I mention this by way of giving myself a valid excuse for being bottom of the posting list for the next fortnight, rather than in a lauding-it-over way.

Not that I generally need an excuse for being slack of course. It's something of a generational thing I've been told. I'd taken to using the word "recalcitrant" to kinda give my inability to ever meet any sort of writing deadline a more formal, perhaps even psychological basis than merely using the word "slack". This all came to a screeching halt when I looked up "recalcitrant" in the dictionary not so long ago and found it didn't quite mean exactly what I thought. Not far off, but by no means bang on the money. Embarrassing, although not as bad as my friend who learnt most new words from reading books, didn't get out much, and for quite a while used to pronounce "misled" a little too much like "mizzled".

Anyway, this is a "BE BACK SOON" note, rather than a foray into semantics, so I'll leave it at that for now.

Upon my return I promise the full, unedited interview that I did after spending 7 months living with seminal US author William Gibson. We learn about how he invented the moonwalk, the true story of what happened to his nose, and did anyone really understand 'Neuromancer'? Actually he was a most interesting fellow, and what he has to say makes a damn fine read, so stay tuned...

In the meantime, if I can find a pool that has a floating bar AND an internet machine, I'll be sure to write.

DC

If there’s one thing that really pisses me off, it’s when big news happens on a Sunday.

I work, you see, at a small organisation whose responsibility it is to sit there, plugged into various talk-radio stations, listening to what’s going on. We listen on behalf of people who are:

a) too busy;
b) too important; or (more likely);
c) having too much fun leading interesting lives;

to listen to fourteen hours of Radio Pacific each day. Unfortunately I’m:

d) none of the above.

So one of the few things that gets me through talkback caller after talkback caller, a disproportionate number of whom it turns out are called Tony, is the hope of some decent breaking news. It’s a sad, scavenger existence, but it’s a living.

My addiction for hourly instalments of the latest haps is such that on the weekend, I’m quivering like a railways worker going cold turkey from the Rothmans by the time the 6pm news comes on. I’ve been known to shush friends and flatmates who are getting a bit noisy outside of their allocated ‘time for talking’, also known as the adverts. I shush them. They call me dad. It’s a thing we’ve got going.

So how annoyed was I to return home from Summer Series II (Goldenhorse, you rock) to be informed, not to see myself, but be informed by a flatmate, that the Space Shuttle Columbia had expelled itself over various parts of Texas. It didn’t happen while I was at work, so it didn’t seem quite real. Space Shuttle crash? You mean the one 17 years ago? Hang on, you’re talking about another crash? The pieces began to click together in the slow, I've-been-at-summer-series-a-bit-too-long way.

I’m about the right age to be completely into Space Shuttles. I remember being seven in 1981 when Columbia, the first of the shuttles to be built, took off for the first time. It was a big moment. I had plastic model shuttles, die-cast shuttles, posters of shuttles, a shuttle drinkbottle (but still a Cookie Bear lunchbox, mind) and a desk with a map of the solar system on it.

In 1986 when the Challenger (the second of the shuttles to be built) went up in smoke, I was 11 going on 12, a cynical pre-pubescent shit, and all I can remember really was a series of jokes going around school. You know the ones and given the circumstances, it wouldn’t seem appropriate to repeat them. If you really need to know what they were because you were on a different planet at the time, try here.

This time, the news seems even more esoteric than the last, if that’s at all possible, what with exploding spaceships being considered pretty damn esoteric where I come from. Add to that the news of some stranded astronauts (or spacemen, as I prefer) on the space station, who can’t get down unless they use some old Russian escape pods, and the whole thing has just gone straight out of The Herald and straight into a novel by Carl Sagan.

So much of our attention lately has been focused on the ground, and whose going to be invading which bit of it so that we can supposedly keep another bigger bit free, that we forget that at the same time, some small groups of mankind are still struggling to get off this hunk o’ dirt and maybe pave the way for us all to follow.

What will be interesting to watch however, and for this next bit I will firmly have my ear pressed up to the wireless: to what extent will this tragic event be used by the Washington administration to consolidate the mood of the US people into a joint outpouring of grief, similar to that felt post-9/11. Completely different events on a different scale I know, but both with loss of heroic life, national icons destroyed – and all captured on film. Key elements that can be manipulated by media and politicians alike, and again reunite the sentiment of a nation whose support had been dissipating as the march towards Baghdad continues.

I hasten to add, I’m not suggesting that there’s any suspicious connection between the two. I’ll leave that to the listeners of Radio Pacific, who were already lining up to speak as I arrived at work this morning.

“Yes, hello Pam, now did you know there was an Israeli on that space shuttle… Hmm, makes you wonder doesn’t it…”

No Tony, it doesn’t. Although as far as stoopid things I’ve heard on the radio in the past week goes, it comes a distant second to John Howard’s comments following the Sydney train derailment on Friday. A derailment which killed eight people, one more than the SS Columbia, but which is destined to disappear from memory a lot quicker. In any event, Howard’s grief-stricken comments seem to be equally poignant in both situations:

“This is the latest in a series of challenges that we have, but such a loss of life in travelling to and from work is always a particularly chilling thing.”

Yep, death-by-commuting, always been a big phobia of mine.

Finally, here’s a nice picture of Space Shuttle Columbia the way I'd like to remember it, shortly before its first launch, 12 April 1981.