'We’re driving up to Wollongong, a dense dose of green on either side of the highway. Michael Mohammed Ahmad, founder and director of Sweatshop – a western Sydney-based literary collective – is yelling as he drives. He’s not mad, that’s just how he talks, at a speed and octave a notch above what most people would find comfortable, but which is normal for an Arab. Siri pipes up, interrupting Mohammed’s stream of thought with rerouted directions, and he yells at her.' (Introduction)