Cirrus@Austlit

'"Remember," G. says, dunking a sachet of decaf into a plastic thermos, "the lives of these creatures are at least ten times more valuable than your own. Always remember that." And then he rolls down the big door and leaves me alone in the factory with eleven tiny sharks. They're hammerheads if I remember correctly what hammerheads look like. They're all a sort of brown colour; some are spotted and some are streaked. They move through the water slowly, never leaving even a ripple behind. I guess then that I work for a pretty neat company. Each shark is about the size of a finger. That's pretty neat. I feed them twice a shift, once at two, once at four. I drop little orange pellets into their tank and they just eat 'em, they just slide on in. I name them after food: Cheese and Tomato Sandwich, Egg and Bacon Sandwich, Burrito with Everything, Sticky Date Pudding, Enchilada with Cheese, Hash Brown. Hash Brown is the littlest and my favourite. Hash Brown has a red hue to him, I notice. Hash Brown, I feel, could be a good pal. I feel we could even grow to be great pals...'

 (Publication abstract)