whatever. But we’re always all right in the end.’
‘Yes, but now you’re up against something bigger than Diamond and a few miffed staff. You’re up against Health and Safety, you’re up against the No Paper Lobby, you’re up against …’
He sighed and shook his head ruefully. ‘I know, Sylv. But if I give in to this techno-rubbish, where will everyone be, come the deluge? If we all go down that road, when the crash comes, we’ll be up shit creek without a paddle, digital or otherwise.’ He’d lost track of the metaphors he’d mixed.
‘Crash?’ Sylvia’s smile looked a little pasted on.
‘Don’t worry, Sylv,’ he said. ‘I’m not going paranoid. But, let’s face it, we rely so heavily on the chip that if anything goes wrong, we really will be doomed. Look what happened to the Irish in the 1840s.’
‘Max, do you remember the Millennium Bug scares?’
‘You know my views on the Millennium, but yes, I do. Planes were going to fall out of the air, everything on computers would be wiped as the hard drives thought it was 1900 and so nothing had been invented yet. And yes – before you tell me – nothing happened. But if it had, civilization would have not crashed but would certainly have gone over a very large pothole.’
‘But these things don’t happen, Max.’
‘They haven’t happened
yet
,’ he said darkly. ‘You mark my words, young lady,’ Sylvia gave him a rudimentary nod of thanks for the compliment, ‘I make a point of still writing everything down, against the day. Someone has to.’
‘And we all know that person will be you, Max.’ She got up to go. ‘But please be careful. Just register classes in the first instance. For me?’
He gave her a brief hug, which was half affection and half a means of getting up out of a low chair. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I will. But only for you.’
Nurse Sylvia Matthews went back to her office feeling in some ways better, in others worse. She had passed on the warning. There was no more she could do. But she knew, with her long years of experience of human nature and Peter Maxwell in particular, that it was unlikely to be heeded. There was more interesting quarry to hunt and Maxwell was off on the scent while the rest of the hounds were still in the kennel.
The little line of whingers would get short shrift today. ‘I’m busy,’ she said tartly. ‘Anyone with verrucas?’ Four hands went up. ‘Get back to classes, all of you. No,’ she held up a hand to stop their protests at source. ‘I don’t care if it’s Games. Wear plimsolls. Right. Headaches, anyone?’ Two hands went up, but tentatively. ‘Any flashing lights?’ One head nodded vigorously. ‘If you can do that, you’re fine. If you don’t haveflashing lights, you’re fine. Off you go.’ There were two left in the queue. She spoke to the first one, a lad who clearly wished he was anywhere but there. ‘And you would have symptoms of what, Michael? Ebola? Smallpox? A bad case of
burkholderia mallei
perhaps?’
Michael wasn’t stupid. It was just that he was more stupid than Sylvia Matthews. He knew about Ebola and smallpox. He hadn’t heard of the other thing, but he thought he’d give it a go. ‘Yes, that one. Burkhold’s Mallet. It’s in my thigh. I can hardly walk.’
‘Well, you surprise me, Michael. You don’t have enough legs.
Burkholderia mallei
is the causatory bacillus in a disease of horses. Off you trot.’
He knew when he was beaten and he slunk off to the horrors of Maths. Looking on the bright side, he had missed half of the lesson, so it wasn’t all bad news.
Sylvia turned to her last customer. ‘And how can I help you?’ she said.
The girl immediately burst into tears. ‘Oh, Mrs Matthews. I’m so worried. I keep on getting these emails.’
Sylvia put her arm round her and ushered her through into the privacy of her back room. ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I think we need to talk, don’t you?’
Nicole Thompson knocked on the door
‘Yes, but now you’re up against something bigger than Diamond and a few miffed staff. You’re up against Health and Safety, you’re up against the No Paper Lobby, you’re up against …’
He sighed and shook his head ruefully. ‘I know, Sylv. But if I give in to this techno-rubbish, where will everyone be, come the deluge? If we all go down that road, when the crash comes, we’ll be up shit creek without a paddle, digital or otherwise.’ He’d lost track of the metaphors he’d mixed.
‘Crash?’ Sylvia’s smile looked a little pasted on.
‘Don’t worry, Sylv,’ he said. ‘I’m not going paranoid. But, let’s face it, we rely so heavily on the chip that if anything goes wrong, we really will be doomed. Look what happened to the Irish in the 1840s.’
‘Max, do you remember the Millennium Bug scares?’
‘You know my views on the Millennium, but yes, I do. Planes were going to fall out of the air, everything on computers would be wiped as the hard drives thought it was 1900 and so nothing had been invented yet. And yes – before you tell me – nothing happened. But if it had, civilization would have not crashed but would certainly have gone over a very large pothole.’
‘But these things don’t happen, Max.’
‘They haven’t happened
yet
,’ he said darkly. ‘You mark my words, young lady,’ Sylvia gave him a rudimentary nod of thanks for the compliment, ‘I make a point of still writing everything down, against the day. Someone has to.’
‘And we all know that person will be you, Max.’ She got up to go. ‘But please be careful. Just register classes in the first instance. For me?’
He gave her a brief hug, which was half affection and half a means of getting up out of a low chair. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I will. But only for you.’
Nurse Sylvia Matthews went back to her office feeling in some ways better, in others worse. She had passed on the warning. There was no more she could do. But she knew, with her long years of experience of human nature and Peter Maxwell in particular, that it was unlikely to be heeded. There was more interesting quarry to hunt and Maxwell was off on the scent while the rest of the hounds were still in the kennel.
The little line of whingers would get short shrift today. ‘I’m busy,’ she said tartly. ‘Anyone with verrucas?’ Four hands went up. ‘Get back to classes, all of you. No,’ she held up a hand to stop their protests at source. ‘I don’t care if it’s Games. Wear plimsolls. Right. Headaches, anyone?’ Two hands went up, but tentatively. ‘Any flashing lights?’ One head nodded vigorously. ‘If you can do that, you’re fine. If you don’t haveflashing lights, you’re fine. Off you go.’ There were two left in the queue. She spoke to the first one, a lad who clearly wished he was anywhere but there. ‘And you would have symptoms of what, Michael? Ebola? Smallpox? A bad case of
burkholderia mallei
perhaps?’
Michael wasn’t stupid. It was just that he was more stupid than Sylvia Matthews. He knew about Ebola and smallpox. He hadn’t heard of the other thing, but he thought he’d give it a go. ‘Yes, that one. Burkhold’s Mallet. It’s in my thigh. I can hardly walk.’
‘Well, you surprise me, Michael. You don’t have enough legs.
Burkholderia mallei
is the causatory bacillus in a disease of horses. Off you trot.’
He knew when he was beaten and he slunk off to the horrors of Maths. Looking on the bright side, he had missed half of the lesson, so it wasn’t all bad news.
Sylvia turned to her last customer. ‘And how can I help you?’ she said.
The girl immediately burst into tears. ‘Oh, Mrs Matthews. I’m so worried. I keep on getting these emails.’
Sylvia put her arm round her and ushered her through into the privacy of her back room. ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I think we need to talk, don’t you?’
Nicole Thompson knocked on the door
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