grime under her fingernails or on her skin at the end of the day. The bike tracks around the lake and huge areas of grass and parkland within KATHRYN FOX
79
walking distance of the city center meant that in the fine Saturday weather, families were out cycling, walking, scootering or picnicking as the bells of the carillon rang across the water.
The gallery never failed to delight, and John Glover’s depic-tions of Anya’s home state were mesmerizing. She made her way to the exit after staring at Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles with even less appreciation than ever and walked over to Questacon.
Inside, she strolled up a long ramp into a gallery of sideshow exhibits. Children squealed as they took turns to slide down what, to the naked eye, appeared to be a fifteen-foot vertical drop.
Anya watched two people sitting on either end of a turning boom arm, trying to throw a ball to each other. They laughed as they found the task impossible. From behind, it looked as though the ball was traveling in a curve, away from the catcher.
‘Great optical illusion, don’t you think?’
Anya looked up to see Vaughan Hunter at her side. She felt her cheeks redden.
‘It’s about relative motion. The ball looks like it’s curving, but it actually moves in a straight line. If you watch carefully, the people are moving in a curve.’
Eminent psychiatrist, part-time physicist and a know-it-all in your spare time. She resisted the impulse to speak aloud.
‘You can see what I mean when you go upstairs and look down from above.’ He wandered off and Anya wondered whether she should follow. Curiosity got the better of her.
‘Have you been here before?’ she asked.
‘Once. This place is amazing. Look at the enthusiasm on all the faces. Even the parents are enjoying themselves.’
He was right. Children of all ages were involved in the displays. No one stood idle.
They reached the upstairs level and looked down on the next pair throwing the ball from the boom arm. The ball did go straight every time. Anya made a mental note to bring Ben here one weekend. He’d love it.
‘Did you know this place started off in a former public 80
MALICIOUS INTENT
school to bring science out of the big white buildings and into the suburbs? It became a victim of its own success. Pretty soon the building couldn’t cope with the number of visitors, so it –’
‘Let me guess, moved to a big white building away from the suburbs.’
Vaughan smiled and nodded. ‘Hope you don’t think I’m following you, but I wanted to come back in my afternoon off.’
Anya felt like a schoolgirl playing hooky. ‘I couldn’t quite face the afternoon sessions. Thought a walk would do more good.’
‘I thought the same thing.’
Anya studied the man, whom she’d never before seen outside work. They’d both been involved in a case of child sexual abuse, during which she’d seen a video of him interviewing the child and been impressed by his kindness and gentleness toward the young girl. Later, he had asked her to discuss the girl’s injuries as reported by the mother. His questions were highly intelligent, which showed his degree of concern for the impact his assessment had on this child and her family. From memory, he’d even done the report for no charge.
‘Have you seen the sports section upstairs?’ he asked. ‘You can challenge Cathy Freeman to a race.’
‘Running against an Olympic gold medalist sprinter? No challenge for her at all, I’d say.’
‘What about seeing how fast you can throw a tennis ball?’
‘That, I could do.’ Anya suddenly felt comfortable. This man had a relaxed manner and the ability to put people at ease.
She envied that.
They moved up the spiral ramp past another gallery and heard loud cracking and buzzing.
‘That’s the Tesla coil. It’s fantastic. Over three million volts to make lightning.’
Anya had seen what lightning could do to a human body and opted for sports instead. Inside Gallery 6, people
79
walking distance of the city center meant that in the fine Saturday weather, families were out cycling, walking, scootering or picnicking as the bells of the carillon rang across the water.
The gallery never failed to delight, and John Glover’s depic-tions of Anya’s home state were mesmerizing. She made her way to the exit after staring at Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles with even less appreciation than ever and walked over to Questacon.
Inside, she strolled up a long ramp into a gallery of sideshow exhibits. Children squealed as they took turns to slide down what, to the naked eye, appeared to be a fifteen-foot vertical drop.
Anya watched two people sitting on either end of a turning boom arm, trying to throw a ball to each other. They laughed as they found the task impossible. From behind, it looked as though the ball was traveling in a curve, away from the catcher.
‘Great optical illusion, don’t you think?’
Anya looked up to see Vaughan Hunter at her side. She felt her cheeks redden.
‘It’s about relative motion. The ball looks like it’s curving, but it actually moves in a straight line. If you watch carefully, the people are moving in a curve.’
Eminent psychiatrist, part-time physicist and a know-it-all in your spare time. She resisted the impulse to speak aloud.
‘You can see what I mean when you go upstairs and look down from above.’ He wandered off and Anya wondered whether she should follow. Curiosity got the better of her.
‘Have you been here before?’ she asked.
‘Once. This place is amazing. Look at the enthusiasm on all the faces. Even the parents are enjoying themselves.’
He was right. Children of all ages were involved in the displays. No one stood idle.
They reached the upstairs level and looked down on the next pair throwing the ball from the boom arm. The ball did go straight every time. Anya made a mental note to bring Ben here one weekend. He’d love it.
‘Did you know this place started off in a former public 80
MALICIOUS INTENT
school to bring science out of the big white buildings and into the suburbs? It became a victim of its own success. Pretty soon the building couldn’t cope with the number of visitors, so it –’
‘Let me guess, moved to a big white building away from the suburbs.’
Vaughan smiled and nodded. ‘Hope you don’t think I’m following you, but I wanted to come back in my afternoon off.’
Anya felt like a schoolgirl playing hooky. ‘I couldn’t quite face the afternoon sessions. Thought a walk would do more good.’
‘I thought the same thing.’
Anya studied the man, whom she’d never before seen outside work. They’d both been involved in a case of child sexual abuse, during which she’d seen a video of him interviewing the child and been impressed by his kindness and gentleness toward the young girl. Later, he had asked her to discuss the girl’s injuries as reported by the mother. His questions were highly intelligent, which showed his degree of concern for the impact his assessment had on this child and her family. From memory, he’d even done the report for no charge.
‘Have you seen the sports section upstairs?’ he asked. ‘You can challenge Cathy Freeman to a race.’
‘Running against an Olympic gold medalist sprinter? No challenge for her at all, I’d say.’
‘What about seeing how fast you can throw a tennis ball?’
‘That, I could do.’ Anya suddenly felt comfortable. This man had a relaxed manner and the ability to put people at ease.
She envied that.
They moved up the spiral ramp past another gallery and heard loud cracking and buzzing.
‘That’s the Tesla coil. It’s fantastic. Over three million volts to make lightning.’
Anya had seen what lightning could do to a human body and opted for sports instead. Inside Gallery 6, people
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