Administrative Attention

The impeccably-coiffured, precisely-dressed woman sat on the other side of a Plexiglass screen. If it had been a high walnut counter with books between us, I would have easily identified her as a librarian. But, if this was a library, my overdue fines had got way, way out of control.

I had been referred to the local office of an obscure Government department in connection with a tax rebate claim I had made many years ago. It had been a while since I had visited any Government office and I was unprepared for how much things had changed. What would once look like a friendly bank, with staff so fresh-faced they appeared soluble in tonic water, had altered its style to what can only be described as penitentiary chic, with hardened, angular personnel exhibiting less flexibility than a rolled steel joist.

“Sir”, said the woman in a manner that was not best friends with respect, “please take a seat and we will get straight to it.”

What ‘it’ was, exactly, was anyone’s guess. It seemed like I was about to find out.

“It has come to our attention that you have not come to our attention recently and this, like you, must be attended to forthwith. Under the Social Scrutiny Act of last year, it is now incumbent upon us to account for and, where deemed a matter we must attend to, the attention deficit on your behalf. May I draw your attention to this?”

She passed a slip of thin paper under the almost imperceptible gap under the Perspex shield. The thin paper was a form of sorts and written across its top were three words, About your surveillance.

“What is this?” I asked, the first time I had spoken since entering the room and taking my seat.

“What is this?” scratched jagged back at me, as if recorded and broadcast to the small room through a two-inch speaker made from cracked glass and broken hacksaw blades.

The woman held her hand to her ear and quietly spoke to someone she imagined approximately 10 feet to her left and elevated by two floors.

“Turn the feedback loop off, please.” She paused. “Right. …err yes. Nominal. It’s about a 91 at this stage.”

Absent minded, she looked straight at me, for a second, then averted her gaze. “Yes! Bit of a… err… well, you know, one of those.”

She smiled an uneasy smile at her unseen communicant, with a hint of moisture at the corner of her eye. She opened her mouth to speak and a brief howl of feedback escaped her lips. Her eyelashes flickered for a moment and then the plain, unreadable, precisely-dressed woman returned to take back her visage.

“If you would care to fill in the D.O.5.51.e.R form for one moment, we can get on with your claim.”

“I'm not sure… that is I don’t know if… What I mean to say is…”

“That you do not wish to claim? You do not have to, of course. We can attend to your attention needs in another way. Here is the next page.”

“I am not interested in claiming, thank you. Wait, another way? What do you mean?”

Her voice assumed a harder edge. “Please complete the form if you do not wish to find out. Please complete… Please complete…”

Two small jets of steam escaped her nostrils. There was a metallic scraping that sounded somewhere between a rusty hinge and an angle grinder attacking an aluminium violin. The steam nozzles grew more intense and her face started to creak under the apparent strain. The feedback resumed and grew so loud I had to cover my ears. I buckled up in pain and shut my eyes to draw away from the nightmare world unfolding before me.

As the sound crescendoed, there was a noise, not unlike that of a fire bucket full of pebbles landing on a patio from the third floor of an apartment block. Possibly the fourth floor, it’s difficult to be sure, but as its velocity returned to zero, the feedback stopped as quickly as the bucket.

Silence furnished the small room alongside a not-inconsiderable amount of steam. Behind me, the door bolted with a thunderous clunk.

Gradually the steam cleared and the impeccably-coiffured, precisely-dressed woman now sat on the other side of the Perspex shield wearing a full beard and an unsettling, blue eyed stare. S/he opened his mouth to speak.

“Your claim for further attention has now been escalated in another way. Your statutory rights are non-effective”