When Australia finally became a republic on January 8th, 2003, the last thing anyone expected was an invasion. They were still not expecting it when it actually came two years later. When I learnt about it at school from my Class 1 Historical Books, which are official government records, there was never a mention of the part played by Victor Lawrence, though to read his autobiography or listen to him speak, you'd think he caused the downfall of the Alliance all by himself. Thankfully we are all still free to write and propagate any version of history we please, but any writer who chooses to contradict official government records also takes on the burden of proof - except for the government, which can 'amend' its own records (which is to say, our history).
Varibooks are perfect for governments that want to change history, as often happens, especially after episodes of war. The collective memory of a nation is easily manipulated, and new tools of communication will always be recruited. The danger of history being changed has always been with us, but now that it is so easy we must be ever more vigilant. That is why, in most countries, there is an absolute ban on reading history on varibook readers - actually you can read them but the hardware and software won't let you alter anything. That is perfect for government records which are meant to be boring anyway. In fact, a recent survey of cabinet ministers and high level public servants revealed that when most of them read varibooks, the only thing they varied was the brand of gin in their tonic.
To write the screenplay of Victor's part in the war I had to do some research, which included digging out many archive documents on hardcopy. That research has led me to the ineluctable, if surprising, conclusion that Victor may not have played such an insignificant part as I first presumed. It's not as grand as he makes out himself, but still we rewrite history every time we open our mouths to speak.
The war. When the invasion came, not from the yellow perils to the north as the doom-sayers had been calling them ever since the second World War, but from the south, every one was surprised, since the only known inhabitants of lands to the south were penguins. The leaders of the country and the various defence organisations quickly assembled. Not having the mettle of those kings who rode into battle at the head of their troops, they chose a place where they could effectively lead the country without irresponsibly putting themselves at needless risk. Their chosen site was in a hole drilled deep under Uluru in the middle of the Great Desert, about 2000 kilometres from the actual fighting. They knew their own worth, and that it would be devastating for the country to lose them.
This annoyed the traditional owners of Uluru, but not nearly as much as being hit by a missile launched from 2002 kilometres away. I mean, Uluru is the baboon's bum of hiding places. But the fact that they targetted Uluru at least it ruled out Japan as the agressor, since it is so covered with tourists. The missile did little damage but our great leadership did a very convincing job of pretending that they'd all been killed. They had funerals, weeping widows and widowers; the full pomp. Then the supposed remaining highest ranking officer in the army quickly called a state of emergency, installed himself in a rather more secret hiding place, surrounded himself with computer displays and TV screens, and ran the country and the war from a phone hooked into the old information super highway, as they so quaintly called their pitiful communication lines in those days. That, as you know, was Major General Brigadier Thornwing, known on the street as Victor Lawrence, interactive actor. Victor was on the nation's televisions for at least six hours a day for the entire three months of the war.
Here is an example breakfast address I transcribed from the archives:
GEN. THORNWING Good morning Australia. Today I must bring you news of the battle of Adelaide. The enemy has overnight surrounded it from the East, successfully capturing the entire Barossa Valley, ruining this years grape harvest during their advance. (DRINKS TEA) This will not be a vintage year for Cabernet Sauvignon. (MESSENGER ENTERS. GEN. THORNWING TAKES COMMUNICATION. READS SOLEMNLY. WHISPERS) Bastards. (ADDRESSING CAMERA) It appears that the Sauvignon Blanc has also been ruined. (MAID ENTERS WITH TOAST) Thank you Betty. We still thank God, don't we though, that since the liberation of Bass Straight we can have King Island butter on our toast once again. (CRUNCHES TOAST)
The messenger and the maid, Norry and Betty Jones respectively, were not actors, and we will meet them presently. But first, here is an extract from an evening conference with the war command.
IN THE WAR ROOM. THE WALL IS COVERED WITH SCREENS SHOWING MAPS, TROOP MOVEMENTS, SHIP POSITIONS ETC. (AND THE CRICKET TEST BETWEEN ENGLAND AND PAKISTAN). AN ALARM RINGS AND RED ALERT IS ANNOUNCED AS LIVE FOOTAGE FROM THE BOMBARDMENT OF WHYALLA (ON THE SOUTH AUSTRALIAN COAST) FILLS THE CENTRAL SCREEN.
GEN THORNWING I want a satellite image of the area now! (SCENE FROM SPACE) Larger scale. We need to see the ships. (IMAGE ZOOMS IN)
LT. BING (HOLDING PHONE TO HIS EAR) The fire is coming from the warship 42 south, 142 east, sir.
GEN THORNWING Infra-red satellite at 42 south, 142 east on lower right. Yes there it is. See those guns go boom everybody. Must be noisy down there. Suggestions anybody?
LT BING Sink it sir.
GEN THORNWING Thank you Bing. I'd never have thought of that. Is there anyone in the area?
SGT LING A couple of tuna-fishing boats, sir.
GEN THORNWING You want to make them a poison casserole Ling? For chrissake why can't I get any decent help around here. Betty!
BETTY Yes General.
GEN THORNWING Coffee. Strong. What do you think about hitting those bastards with a mack III out of Williamtown?
BETTYThat would probably annoy them General. Milk or cream?
The interesting thing is that the enemy never really worked out that it was all a fake. It was done live with Victor and his gang reacting to what was actually taking place, and because their defence plans were occasionally the same as those cooked up by the real leaders still hiding under Uluru, they conveyed a semblance of reality; even if they were occasionally reprimanded for falling too far into farce.
And the enemy nearly always took action against the fake transmissions of Victor and his gang, for in most instances they were either the obvious ones, or, occasionally, the best ones. They soon learned that there would be another command from somewhere else, but they never tracked it or decoded it, so they had to rely on Victor. Perhaps they didn't check the data given to Victor either, for it was sometimes subtly altered. Who knows? Their command was eventually sunk, and with them the real reason for Australia winning the war and Victor's rise to fame, if not riches, since he was never promoted from private, a lack of movement that left him bitter.
From Victor: my varied life
I am unashamed to recall the itterness I felt when leaving the army; bitterness at their lack of gratitude, for I felt I deserved a chestful of medals. You could argue that I never actually had to exhibit bravery, or even be brave, but I did have to be continually clever, which is a much harder thing, for one's life is never at risk so there is no motivation.
Victor wanted to show many hours of war footage in his biography but, as Wendy pointed out, any viewer could call it from the archives themselves, and it hardly made for a brisk dramatic pace.
"As far as I can tell, Victor, the only really interesting thing in the whole episode is your relationship with Betty and Norry."
"Why?"
"Because you claim she was your sweetheart, and he your best friend."
"Yes?"
"And they got married."
"Well?"
"So what happened. You've never been explicit about what happened between the three of you."
"It was a stressful time. And I was still married to ..."
"Mary?"
"Yes, thank you, Mary at the time."
"So you were fooling around?"
"We were too busy."
"Anyway I've contacted them. They'd love to be in the film."
"Who?"
"Betty and Norry Jones of course. Tim, You and Victor get together tonight and program them into the screenplay will you?"
"What will you be doing?" I asked.
"I'm going out. I have to relax a bit."
"Where?"
"She's got a date, haven't you little one," said Victor. He pinched her cheek, making her flinch, then his glance shot to me, and I could see he wished he could unsay it. In those days I still wondered if such looks were meant to convey sympathy towards me, knowing that I might be hurt, or perhaps some jealousy, knowing that Wendy cared that I might be hurt. And to hurt me was to hurt his film, which was to hurt his history, which was, eventually, to hurt his legacy.
"Who's the lucky guy, Wendy?" I tried to sound enthusiastic, to be happy for her, as well as conveying ingenuously the message, "Love me! I'm the sensitive one. It's me who cares."
Wendy looked at me, letting her own control relax a moment to show the pain she acknowledged in hurting me without sensible reason. She said, "Victor's just teasing me, Tim. I'm going to see my mother."
"Teasing you, is he," and I let the emphasis fall to let Victor know that I knew that he knew what was going on. Or at least that I suspected. Should I be watching them more closely?
Norry Jones spent the first week of the war in action, where he was wounded in the leg.
"He's been talking about it ever since," said Betty. "It's probably a record, forty-five years non-stop talking about one week in the war. Oh and he makes up stuff, too."
But Norry was not listening; he had no need to. "You see I was one of the first called up because I was in Adelaide at the time - it was the first city to be hit, you know. I don't know if it was because they were having one of their arts festivals at the time. Anyway I was there and I was working as a gardener, so they automatically made me corporal and put me in charge of targeting the laser-guided rockets. I mean in those days things weren't nearly as sophisticated as they are now, so anyone could do it really, even a duffer like me. I was pretty good at it, too. Until the accident that is. That was the only stupid thing I did, letting the Admiral's kid watch me type in the password. She got out her portable and hacked into the targeting system and before you know it - BOOM!, she sunk a Tuna fishing boat and the recoil of the gun hit me in the leg ..."
Norry and Betty were taken to a secret posting on the outskirts of Sydney. It turned out to be a defunct TV studio where a general command centre had been built around some unused stage equipment from the concert hall of the Sydney Opera House. These stupid steel shapes, once the rust was taken off, lent that "no-time" sense of technological superiority and dearth of artistic imagination found in the historic science fiction films of the time. Victor was there already, standing among the shapes watching the display screens being fitted. Already in his General's uniform, he was slapping his boot with a riding crop, wandering if he should put on a moustache for the first broadcast.
GEN. THORNWING My fellow Australians. It is with great sorrow that I must report to you that the President of the Republic, the Prime Minister, and the chiefs of all the armed services, have all been killed in an attack on their secret hiding place. A state of emergency has been called, and all citizens will be asked to submit to the authority of armed forces personnel. I have accepted a solemn duty, and I will endeavour to carry it out with my full heart, to lead you through these troubled times. Together we shall vanquish our enemy, together we shall exact retribution. Together, you, my loyal and brave fellow Australians, and I .... General R. T. Thornwing.
"Did you notice that lovely pause before I said the name? I was actually wondering what it was. I couldn't remember if they'd given me a name to use, so in the end I just made one up. Pretty good, eh?"
"I thought it was a bit too much like an American movie at the time," said Norry.
"Did you?" Victor looked genuinely hurt. "You never criticised me before."
"Well most of the time I thought you were a general, didn't I? I couldn't criticise you until they let me in on the secret and we had a few beers. You remember that, Victor? Them nights we snuck out to go drinking at the Penrith Leagues club?"
"We never snuck out!"
"Yes we did. Don't you remember? We found those cheerleaders from the football team and told them everything."
"I do not remember that."
"Me neither," said Betty. "What precisely did you tell them everything about, Norry?"
"We told them we were both in love with you, Betty."
Betty opened her mouth, looking momentarily confused, either at the statement or simply because she was unused to a break in Norry's monologue and had lost the ability to respond. She pursed her lips and was about to speak, but Norry beat her down with a laugh.
"It's true, love. Me and Victor were both gone on you. And I could see that you had fallen for him from the moment you saw him. Of course you thought he was a general; we all did until he opened his mouth and let the cat out of the bag, so I had no real chance, did I? I had to wait until after the war when Victor's real rank was made public, but what I couldn't understand was that even though you knew all along that he was just a corporal, that is from the time he opened his big mouth, you liked him... I mean you always treated him like a general even when you didn't have to. Sometimes you worshipped him so much it made me sick. I suppose it was jealousy, but sometimes I was so ashamed of you for treating such a person with ... well, with the love I deserved. I was already a hero, wasn't I? I had a broken leg to prove it. And what was he? A two-bit actor. Now that's a funny expression isn't it. I wonder where it comes from ..."
Traditionally, historians have neglected to analyse, when researching the causes of war, the entertainment value of those wars.
"But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at." Thus said William Cowper, blaming it on the subjects. Even Winston Churchill said that the second world war was unnecessary, despite the profit he got from it. And it was so coolly analysed by Thucydides and others in the West, and Sun Tzu particularly in the East, based on the deaths of several hundreds of thousands of Greek and Chinese soldiers, that it really is unnecessary to bother with it if you take the time to analyse it to the point of the inevitable outcome. But it has become even more fun now that the leaders have guaranteed protection, and it still has the usual benefits, like reducing the lists of people waiting for public-funded housing.
The real boost to the popularity of war, though, was the appeal to the masses through universal access to television. Even the World Cup, the World Series, the World Trophy and the World University of Interactive Entertainment Awards take second place to a well promoted invasion, especially now that the advertising and broadcasting budgets of most armies have exceeded their spending on arms. Who can forget their first time seeing a camouflaged landing craft crawling out of the water with "Lipton's Tea" in red and white on the side? And it did not require much retraining; after all, the difference between a gun and a camera is only the direction of the bullet as it travels down, or up, the barrel.
Nearly the entire War of 2005 was therefore filmed, and every scrap of film is archived, so anyone who wants to see Victor playing General Thornwing can do so by asking their television. Real life being so well recorded, we had decided to re-enact the only part of the war that was not filmed - the surrender of the enemy and Victor's farewell to his friends. It was his farewell to Australia as well, for Betty lent him some money to go to London to make his fortune. We would film that scene as well.
Perhaps because he thought it would lend an air of historical responsibility, Victor insisted we film on location whenever we could. The surrender took place, like all good surrenders, aboard a giant warship, the AS Wagga Wagga. But the AS Wagga Wagga had unfortunately been decommissioned after the Civil War a few years later, so we had to make do with a small, antiquated destroyer for the filming, onto which we would edit her image. The actual signing was not filmed because the Australian public, and indeed the enemy, had not yet realised that Victor was a mere corporal, and without a very significant promotion was unable to sign the armistice on behalf of the Australian Government. In fact the signing took place behind closed doors where, in the absence of all cameras, a real general, who had been hiding out with the President in the desert, jumped out from behind a closed door, pen in hand, and scrawled his signature where Victor was about to put his. Then he said, "thanks very much Corporal ... eh ... Corporal ..."
"Lawrence," said Victor.
"Quite. Well that'll be all. What next then? I suppose I oughtta go up to the bridge and tell 'em it's orright to call the President. The ponce is usually in the bath at this time of day, though." He took the arm of the former enemy commander and led her out of the room saying, "How about a beer while we wait, Love? And tell me - where are you sheilas from, anyway? We never could work it out."
The ceremony took place in the gun room below the bridge, that being the most heavily armoured section of the hull and therefore the place the real general felt safest. Betty and Norry were there, as General Thornwing's aids, and as a symbol of hope and peace after the armistice, a child from each side to hold the pens on violet velvet cushions. As a favour to Betty, the children were played by her own grandchildren, the youngest of whose nose uncannily resembled Victor's; fortunately it also resembled Norry's. They both had very average noses.
Wendy and I had suspicions about Victor's versions of events, and those suspicious were heightened by Norry's incoherent rambling about how he would write a film about the end of the war. The night before filming he enlightened us for a few hours.
"Victor pretends he was still in danger at the signing, but that was nonsense. The only people in danger were his aids - I mean those of us pretending to be his aids, 'cause we knew he was just a private or corporal or something. The lower your rank, or the rank you wear on your shoulder, the more expendable you are, you know. Anyway, Victor was chatting up one of the Enemy Alliance majors when there was a gunshot ..."
Even if we had been confident of Norry's history, we had none in his acting. Computers can simulate actors, which is something that happens a lot in variflix, but it only bases its animation on its memory of the actor in question. So if it samples the actions of a bad actor the simulation will be of a bad actor. Unfortunately, or not, the computer can't tell the difference. If it could every performance would get an award. To cut an impending long night short, then, Wendy asked Norry to give her a two kilobyte synopsis of his version of Victor's story and physically pushed him out of the bar - just as Victor entered. As he left he said, "You'll tell 'em it's true, eh Victor? Though you were usually too busy with the sheilas to worry about the real war. We were below decks catching the last bullets while you were snogging. Catching bullets. That's the sort of thing you should be filming instead of this poncy Hollywood snot."
"Yes," said Wendy, "But he's got the money. Goodnight Norry. See you tomorrow."
After Norry had left she asked Victor, "So you were best friends, you and Norry? Has he any reason to bear a grudge?"
"Of course not. We were best friends, he and I. And Betty. I suppose he may be envious of the fame and wealth I have acquired, and they are pretty poor, aren't they? I guess they don't know how I've suffered."
Wendy and I were silent for a moment and then laughed together. Wendy said, "If you lend them twenty dollars they'll be able to go and see the film to find out." She looked at him critically, and putting her face close to his asked, "What is it you're not telling us about this scene? It could use a little more drama, you know."
Ignoring her, he sat at the table and turned on a script display then beckoned us to join him. We began to discuss the next days filming when Betty came in. She smiled weakly at us and, unasked, sat down.
"I don't know if I can do it," she said.
"What?" asked Wendy, with surprising sympathy; I'd have expected her to explode with her usual impatience.
"Well to start with," she said, "I've never acted in anything - not even at school."
"It's alright. We're only going to film you. You don't really have to say anything as Victor will do a voice over later."
"Yes I know that, but it's so... queer. And then there's Norry."
"What about him?" asked Wendy. And Victor said quickly, "Yes, what about Norry? Has he gone..."
"Shhh Victor!" said Wendy harshly, but continued softly. "Let her speak."
"Well we've read the script, you know, and mostly it's all right, I mean we were all friends and I did lend Victor that money to get him to London, but Norry reckons something has been left out. You see he's always been convinced that me and Victor ... well me and Victor ... well you know, me and Victor. I mean I told him we didn't but he's always thought that. I don't know why but you know..."
"What are you talking about woman?" Victor asked impatiently.
"I think," said Wendy, "That Norry thinks you and Betty got on better than you should."
"I've tried to tell him it's none of his business, Victor," said Betty, "But he won't listen. There was a time after the war was over when we were alone and he thinks that..."
"Is that the time we're filming? When you lend me the money?" Victor asked. She nodded, and he added that the man was an idiot. She nodded again. He remembered how Norry's fear of cuckoldry used to gnaw at him, how it affected their friendship. Normally he was an insufferable and unflinching physical bully, but he was unable to apply his talent for intimidation to discovering the truth of Betty's affairs, if any, and instead had tried subtle questioning, at which he was terribly inept. He could never find the right questions, so instead of truth he built suspicions which festered, and apparently still festered now, and had caused him injury through the intervening years as surely as if his leg had been shot off. His fears were, for the most part, groundless, but as he was both too stupid and too scared to understand that, it made them no less real. After Victor had left them, his bullying turned to boasting, and his boasting was interminable, but it had never been part of Victor's life, and since its source was fear of him or his deeds, it needed to be staunched at that source.
Victor said to Betty, "Look I'll speak to him tomorrow. Tell him that if anything like screwing happened then that's the part we'd be filming. He hasn't been jealous all these years has he?"
He found Norry the next day. He was accosting random people on the set and telling them stories about the war. I found him with a camera programmer backed into a bulkhead, her eyes wide with interest.
"We were high in the mountain jungle," he was saying, "and we found this old CD Rom player in an abandoned house. It was completely buggered, but if yer in a company of blokes there'll be someone who can fix nearly anything. Well me and this other bloke Simmons got it going; rigged up a belt drive from his undie elastic and even used an old diamond tie pin to make the semi-conductor laser. You wouldn't believe how good the blokes reckoned that was, havin' a bloody CD. I mean yer'd be lyin' in the ditch in the dead of night then all of a sudden, instead of hearin' mortars or infantry or gunfire, you'd hear ... you'll never guess what the only music they found was..."
Victor grabbed Norry by the collar, asking the programmer to excuse us, and dragged him away.
"What was the music?" asked the programmer, but she got no answer, for Norry was off on another story altogether. Victor stopped him by putting a hand on his mouth and said, "Yes Norry. We had some good times didn't we, though I don't remember that any fighting took place in a jungle."
"Yeah, well I was making it up for that young sheila."
Victor laughed, smiling at the genuinely fond memories of Norry and his stories. "You're such a bullshitter, Norry. But we did have some good times, eh? You and me ... and Betty."
He took his hand
I took my hand away Norry's mouth and Norry remained silent for a change. At last his mouth was silent, yet his eyes looked at me with hatred, brewed from long years of hidden and repressed jealousies. It's quite possible that I was inventing those psychoanalytic thoughts - I had the vocabulary for it, God knows, from hundreds of expensive hours on Californian couches - but I am convinced there was some truth in it, for he said, "We were friends." That must have been the shortest sentence Norry Jones uttered in his adult life.
I had no particular answer for him, no assuaging monologues, so I simply said, "Yes, but Betty married you." I say I said it simply, but behind the words I put fifty years of acting experience, the thousands of pages of ideas from Stanislavsky to Grotowski on acting technique and theory that serve to subvert sincerity. I don't know what he understood from our meeting, but at the time it was clear that he considered it finished as he walked away.
Despite Norry's reluctance, and Betty's fear of acting, filming went very well, at least up until the last scene in which Betty was to loan me the money that would get me to England. Betty's confidence had grown and we had finished filming the signing of the Peace Treaty. We were left alone in the gun room, talking quietly. It was a very tender moment, for all that we were sitting on the base of the 300 mm gun, and I remember it with great fondness. But the scene was disturbed by Norry walking onto the set, and though I did not realise it at the time, as with all the other misadventures that beset this project, Wendy left the cameras rolling. No, I didn't notice Norry, and just as Betty handed me the money I heard him call in a very loud voice from behind me, "And when are you going to pay her back, you bastard?"
"What?" I cried, turning to see what was going on.
"He's right, Victor," said Betty. "I loaned you that money in 2005 and you've never payed me back. We've been though some rough patches, you know, and there were times when that five hundred dollars would have saved us a lot of trouble."
I was flabbergasted, but they were relentless in their attack. Norry came right to my face and presented me with a sheet of paper, and he said, "Here's our bill Victor. I calculate that with an assumption of ten percent inflation, using a conservative figure of twelve percent interest calculated over forty eight years and three months, accumulated as compound interest, and with the re-decimalisation of the currency, you owe Betty and me five hundred and three thousand, two hundred and fifty two dollars and ... and "
"And fifty eight cents," added Betty emphatically. They stared resolutely in my face. I was certain they were terribly, terribly wrong, but how could I tell them that they could not get away with twelve percent interest? I was too stunned to say anything, in fact, so I sat and called for some coffee while they ranted.
"You got rich, Victor," said Betty.
"Very rich," added Norry. "Did I tell you about the time Victor and I were..."
"Not now Norry. We're trying to make him feel rotten about forgetting us. There he was in his silken glory cavorting about with stars and swimming in champagne while we slogged it out in any job we could find. You forgot us Victor. Didn't send me a cent. Didn't even think about it did you?"
I turned to Wendy for help, but she and Tim were talking quietly together, so close to each other they were almost embracing. I
Wendy beckoned to me. Her expression was unreadable but I expected she wanted my help to calm what was turning into a fight. Instead she pulled me in front of her only to hide her smile from Victor.
"This is brilliant," she said. She took a deep breath for composure then pushed me away, either not noticing or ignoring my disappointment.
Victor was still arguing with Betty and Norry. Norry was repeatedly clenching and opening his fist, so I moved closer to jump in if he got violent. But too quickly he pushed Victor's chest with flat of his hand, sending Victor over the wall where Betty and Norrie's grandchildren were playing with the control console of the 300 mm gun.
The boy screamed as Victor trod on his foot. Betty grabbed the child's hand.
"Come away from there you naughty boy," she said.
"Oh Grandma. We were having fun. This thing is so primitive. We broke into it real easy. We changed the password too. Guess what it is now?"
"Come away." said Betty, and she wrenched the children away.
Just then Norry pushed Victor again, crying aloud, "Victor Lawrence, you rotten bastard."
As Victor stumbled backwards from Norry's push, the 300 mm gun fired. I don't know why it fired, or where it sent its projectile, but fire it did, and Victor was just placed so that the recoil brushed his leg, sending him into the opposite wall where he hit his head before falling to the floor. Norry, too, looked stunned. He rubbed the scar on his leg in sympathetic memory of his wartime action. If he had pushed Victor a moment later or earlier, either he or Victor would have been crushed by the recoil of that gun. "That was bloody close," he said. Victor said nothing, for he was unconscious. The rest of us, even Wendy, were stunned and temporarily deafened by the explosion.
