Mortaumal - 29. Oasis. Mort Meets Archibald, Calumnia & Hercules

[Excerpt from the brochure sent to prospective purchasers of the strata title residences.]

“Oasis ™ is a secure, forty hectare gated estate containing thirty-eight owner-designed villas, each surrounded by a high wall enclosing a private pool and two thousand square metres of well tended garden. These luxury abodes nestle into expertly maintained parklands and ancient rainforest.

The social centre of this earthly paradise is The Forum, which is comprised of five award-winning architectural gems designed to appear like ancient classical ruins. A playground and sports field contained within a mini Colosseum. An ancient Greek temple that encloses two top-class tennis courts. A large free-form swimming pool masquerading as a Roman Bathhouse in a rainforest, surrounded by smaller temples—changing rooms, sauna, and a gymnasium. And a replica of a circular Roman Temple that houses a theatre with professional lighting, stage and dressing rooms. Suites attached to the temple are ideal for social activities such as bridge and other card and board games, flower arranging, seminars or a thousand other uses.

The remaining thirty-five hectares of the estate is old growth rainforest, containing what are possibly the last examples of the forest giants that once covered almost the entire eastern seaboard of this island continent.

Two Mediterranean-styled cottages behind the Colosseum are the abodes of the Grounds Manager, Doug Verdi, and the Director of Social and Sporting Activities, Hercules Buff.

In Oasis™, security is paramount. The entire perimeter is surrounded by a three-metre high, chain-link fence topped by high-tension electric wires. It is guarded twenty-four/seven by security cameras linked to state of the art computers and constantly monitored alarms. The only entry to Oasis™ is through the main gates, which can be opened either with fingerprint touch pads, iris recognition cameras, or manually operated by the armed concierge in the gatehouse. No security personnel enter the estate unless sent for. No visitors will be admitted without the personal guarantee of a resident. Crime is unknown in Oasis. Emergency personnel and their vehicles can enter only if sent for by a resident or the concierge, once their authenticity is established.

Services: A silent electric railway runs through a secure ‘tunnel’ behind every house to the Forum. The single small carriage is used to convey service personnel to individual houses and/or communal buildings. All service personnel such as maids, cleaners, personal assistants etc. must undress in a special room attached to the gatehouse, be security checked, then don the required uniform before being transported by rail to the residence’s tradesperson’s entrance, which is connected to the train via a secure passageway. This ensures that no one but residents and their guests has access to the grounds of the estate.”

[Excerpt from Archibald Lintel’s unpublished memoir: A Personal & Private History of Oasis.]

“The first people to buy into Oasis were a young Sydney couple with inherited wealth, looks, intelligence and health. Until moving to Oasis the husband held a position of responsibility in the family importing company that occupied most of his time. His wife spent her days at the gym, shopping, playing tennis, boring her therapist, swimming, gossiping, having her hair and nails done, her fortune told, going to the cinema, playing golf, playing bridge, pottering in the garden. I the few hours left for recreation their social calendar was full with dinners, parties, picnics, theatre, horse racing…’.

By the age of twenty-eight the moral emptiness of their lives began to tell on their marriage. A brief flirtation with religion replaced the void with a vacuum. Alcohol and other social drugs were poisoning and depressing millions of brain and other essential cells. Wondering if a baby would improve matters, they were on their way to their isolated country cottage to make one, when the car broke down. Instead of phoning for assistance, they decided to continue on foot, taking a shortcut through a national park.

Three days later, dehydrated, exhausted but strangely euphoric they stumbled into the cottage where they assuaged monumental thirsts, ate sparingly and talked and listened to each other for several days in a genuine effort to discover the real person they’d married. To their mutual astonishment, they liked what they found and made a list of things that were essential for a good life. The list contained only two things…. to live in nature in exactly the way they wanted, not how other people expected them to live.

This meant leaving the old life behind. The family firm had an office in Far North Queensland that the husband could take over, so they drove up, and when looking for a place to live, discovered Oasis. The communal buildings were complete, and house blocks available. They loved what they saw and described the sort of house they wanted. I drew up plans, which they approved, and within weeks they were living in paradise.

The pregnant wife then took it upon herself to fill the remaining thirty-six residence blocks with compatible couples, via an attractive Internet site designed to lure people with similar interests and wealth. Within six months the remaining lots were sold and the individually designed houses were under construction.

By the end of the following year, Oasis had become a community of like-minded people who asserted their independence and difference from the usual run of human communities, by deciding at their first meeting to classify all residents as Patricians who, when in public, must always observe the Highest Standards of speech, cleanliness, and behaviour. A further requirement written into the Oasis Rule Book was that as long as the Standards were maintained, each family would be free to live as they pleased, no matter how aristocratically eccentric, without fear of ridicule.”

*****

Mort took his time, made side trips, saw most of the things the tourist brochures suggested, deliberately formed no opinions, enjoyed being alone, sorted out his ideas, hopes and plans, slept in a cane field the first night, beside a small stream in a tiny patch of preserved forest with a sign threatening extermination if caught camping, on the second, and in the low sand hills of a beach on the third.

He arrived in the city that contained his presumed father just before midday, bought a takeaway lunch and ate it on the waterfront, tossing scraps of bread to the seagulls. Nerves and hunger placated, he phoned Archibald Lintel and was given directions to a doctor’s surgery where they met, shook hands, chatted easily about nothing in particular until blood tests and a DNA swab were taken, then afterwards in a cafe they got down to business.

‘You’re very like Perdita in looks... but…’ Archibald gave a self-conscious grin, ‘less aggressive.’

‘You sound as if you liked her.’

‘I did. She was the only person at school I felt as if I had anything in common with. We didn’t talk much, neither of us were talkers, but we felt comfortable together.’

‘You’re the first person I’ve known who liked her. When I first met her I was fourteen and she was a selfish, greedy, bitch. I lived with her for a couple of years and she didn’t change.’

‘You said she died?’

‘Yes. Fell out of a window while looking at lightning.’

‘You don’t sound sad.’

‘I was delighted!’

‘How did you get my number?’

‘Perdita kept your name in a notebook of her clients. She’d surrounded it with lacy squiggles and little stars, so I guessed you were special. I did a search and, although you had moved north, you came from the right area originally and were the right age. Then I used the telephone directory and phoned. You sounded pleasant.’

Arch smiled softly. ‘Perdita was special to me too. So even if you aren’t my son I’m glad I’ve met you. But you probably are. I was the only one who had regular sex with her, and the only one she’d let do it without a condom. She said she was taking precautions, but obviously she wasn’t. I wanted to marry her, but my father told me she and the baby died at birth. No one seemed to know—or to care for that matter... apart from me.’

Mort was visibly shocked. ‘That’s horrible. Why would he lie to you?’

‘He wanted me to stay at school. Perdita had a bad reputation and he didn’t want me getting involved. I was only fifteen, remember. He didn’t take me seriously.’

‘Adults don’t. But a fifteen year-old’s feelings are as valid and true as an adult’s.’

‘Yes. But there’s no point in opening up old wounds. I thought you were bringing a friend?’

‘He decided to go to South America for six weeks instead. Left me his van.’

‘Must trust you.’

‘We trust each other.’

‘But you’re not…’

‘We’re very good friends.’

‘Well, I guess it’s time for you to see where I live and meet my wife.’

‘Does she know I’m coming?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure it isn’t going to be a problem?’

‘Absolutely certain. I phoned her on my way to meet you at the surgery. Said a long forgotten cousin had turned up. When I told her you were a personable young man she insisted you stay with us. So if you don’t mind I’ll introduce you as my cousin from Brisbane. Calumnia’s a bit volatile and wouldn’t take kindly to the news that I have a son.’

‘That’s understandable.’

‘Yes.’ Archibald paused. ‘I’d like you and Calumnia to get along; things are a bit iffy at the moment. I don’t know who’s to blame. Perhaps I’m difficult and,’ he shrugged apologetically. ‘Already I’ve said too much.’

‘No you haven't. I understand. You’ve hit a rocky patch—that’s normal, and you’re wondering if there’s anything you can do about it. It’s to your credit. Usually people start by blaming everyone except themselves. As for being your cousin, that suits me. You look far too young to be my father!’ With a cheeky grin Mort reached across and stroked Arch’s cheek. ‘How often do you shave?’

‘What an odd question. A couple of times a week.’

‘When did you get pubic hair?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because I’m yet to get any and I was wondering.’

‘Not till I was about your age—eighteen or nineteen, I forget when exactly. Perdita loved that I was hairless. She always said the other boys were animals but I was an angel.’

‘You do look slightly angelic. Actually, you’re very good looking; a bit like a Central European porn star—a combination of innocence and knowing ’

Arch grinned. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. The lack of hair’s possibly a coincidence so we’ll wait for scientific confirmation before celebrating.’

‘You won’t be annoyed at discovering you’re a father?’

‘The opposite! I’m sad I wasn’t there from the start, as I would have been if… come on, my car’s parked just down the road. I’ll wait in it until you come, then follow me.’

Arch parked just inside the open gates to Oasis, preventing Mort from driving his van in. He got out and waved to Mort to join him at the gatehouse where an armed guard and the concierge checked his identification and telephoned for a police security check on Mortaumal Aywun, which gave Mort a jolt. His relief when he discovered he wasn’t wanted showed on his face.

The concierge glared at him. ‘You look as if you expected us to discover criminal convictions!’

‘No, I drove through a red light in Rockhampton and was glared at by a cop on the other side. It seems he didn’t report me—or didn’t get my number.’ As an extempore lie Mort thought it was rather fine. The concierge obviously considered him a criminal. She harrumphed, took his fingerprints, issued him with a passkey, nodded, and bid them both an unsmiling good day.

‘Serena has a heart of gold, so I’ve been told. But she always makes me feel I’ve been a naughty boy. At least she’s reliable. We’ve had no unauthorised entries since she arrived seven years ago.’

Arch parked his Porsche in the garage beside a Mazda Sports, and waved Mort to a parking space at the side.

‘Better test your key,’ he said, standing back.

Mort slid it across and the door opened silently.

‘Impressive.’

Inside was white, smooth, light filled, and as tastefully furnished as a Modern Homes Exhibition showpiece. They followed the sound of a Television talking to itself.

Calumnia, swathed in something soft, long, pink and flowing, unwound from an armchair, stood and extended her hand as if expecting her guest to genuflect.

‘I’ve seen her before,’ was Mort’s first thought, before realising it was impossible. Calumnia was slim with dark hair that hung in loose twirly hanks to her shoulders. Eyebrows plucked to a high, thin arched line made her look permanently surprised. She didn’t need those glistening bright red lips. The long, black-lacquered fingernails looked dangerous but Mort bravely took hold of the flaccid hand, surprised when she suddenly tightened her grip and pulled him towards her, brushing cheeks in what she imagined was a continental kiss. Her breath was sour. At least she wasn’t wearing too much perfume.

‘Goodness, what a handsome young man,’ she announced as if surprised. ‘Despite that, there is a family resemblance. You both stand very straight and look as if you don’t believe what I’m saying.’

‘I don’t believe I’m handsome. But Arch is lucky to have such a beautiful wife.’

‘Thank you, Mortaumal.’

‘Please, call me Mort.’

‘OK, as long as you don’t call me Cal.’ Her laugh was brittle and slightly off key. ‘Why have you come north?’

‘I’m looking for a job.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Oh, anything. I thought perhaps horticulture. I’m easy.’

‘Doug might have something for him,’ Calumnia said, turning to her husband.

‘Normally he would, but his son’s home from University and is helping him.’

‘No worries,’ Mort said cheerfully, I’ve saved a bit of money so I’m right for a while. It’s really great of you to let me stay, I won’t be a burden and can pay my way.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Arch said with a smile.

Calumnia gave him an unpleasant look.

‘Come on, I’ll show you your room and then we can take a tour. Do you want to come with us Calumnia?’

‘I’m meeting Ishbel for tennis in twenty minutes.’ She turned away, then as if on an impulse swung back and in a little girl’s voice simpered, ‘Oh, Arch, lets go to that Italian restaurant for dinner tonight, to celebrate Mort’s arrival.’

Arch shrugged to show he was easy. ‘OK. I’ll phone for a table. ’

‘No need to sound so enthusiastic.’ She flounced out.

‘I’d better make that phone call before I forget. Calumnia is not very forgiving of other people’s faults.’ Arch’s office was large, light filled and as neat and sterile as an operating theatre. One wall was dominated by a large drafting table, another by floor to ceiling chart drawers, and the third by a state of the art computer set-up. He made the call and hung up. No probs, they weren’t very busy.’

‘Why did you use a landline? I thought they were too old fashioned for the modern human; they don’t tell you your latitude and longitude or the temperature or where your nearest and dearest is phoning from. And there’s no camera or internet access, no way to plug them into your brain so you can hear the latest songs instead of birds or traffic... don’t tell me Oasis is stuck in the twentieth century!’

‘As far as cell phones go, yes. No one here likes them because they are far too invasive. It’s intolerable that husbands and wives, children and acquaintance can expect to contact you day and night, record what you say, know exactly where you are, and a thousand other things about you with their interfering gadgets. It’s Big Brother gone mad. One of the residents is an electronics whizz and set up a blocking wave, I think it’s called, that interferes locally with mobile phone signals. So we’re safe from that intrusion at least.’

Mort was grinning.

‘What’re you laughing at? I suppose you think we’re stupid?’

‘The opposite. It’s wonderful. I hate the damned things. I know I’m going to love this place. Now, show me this beautiful house.’

Half an hour later Mort had left his bag in the spare bedroom, admired the ultra chic modernity of everything, and was gazing longingly at the pool.

‘Take a swim.’

‘I’ve no togs.’

‘We don’t wear them at home.’

‘Brilliant.’ He stripped and dived in. Arch sat in a deck chair and watched.

‘Come on in.’

‘I’m suddenly shy.’

‘Why.’

‘I don’t like comparisons. You’re so... I was going to say beautiful, but you aren’t really. Your body looks like we always hope bodies should look, but never do. Cellini’s Perseus is the nearest I can think of.’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘I’ll show you a print later.’

‘Come on, Archibald, don’t make me come and get you. I’m tougher than I look.’

‘Yes, you actually do look dangerous.’

‘I will be, if you don’t come in!’

Arch stripped and joined Mort swimming lengths.

‘The internet article said you’d designed this place.’

‘Did they make any criticism of it?’

‘Said it was Mediterranean pseudo classical, or something.’

‘The Architects Journal said was the tackiest, most pretentious, kitschest collection of buildings ever erected in the state. But I like it. My current designs are the opposite—practical, modestly priced and boring.’

‘I love this house, so if the rest of Oasis is as good I can’t wait to see it.’

‘Calumnia likes it because it impresses her friends.’ Arch clambered out of the pool. ‘Come on then, let’s go see the rest of the place.’

Mort’s clothes didn’t fit the standards required for Oasis, so he joined Arch in his wardrobe and they donned clean shorts, well pressed shirts and neat leather sandals, then wandered down an avenue of flowering trees past a dozen or so villas invisible behind walls and dense planting. It was quiet; the only sounds came from birds and cicadas. In the distance a laugh and a faint splash. The avenue opened out to a paved area shaded by giant benjamina fig trees. Through the trees on all four sides could be seen what looked like classical ruins. He and Arch were the only people there.

‘This is amazing,’ Mort grinned. I feel as if I’ve gone back in time. It’s so quiet, there’s a ruin over there if I’m not mistaken, and it’s all so clean yet not sterile. I love it already! It feels…’ he sniffed the air. ‘It feels happy. Crazy, I know, but that’s how it makes me feel.’

‘You couldn’t have said a nicer thing if you worked on it for the rest of your life. As your reward I’ll take you to see an ancient Greek temple.’

They stood partially concealed by a couple of fluted columns and watched the players.

‘This is so wonderful, tennis courts in the house of a dead god. I’m sure he’d love it. Who’s Calumnia’s partner? They’re not very good.’

‘Don’t tell her, she thinks she’s a pro. Ishbel’s the only female resident who will have anything to do with her, that's why Calumnia’s seldom here. There’s a coven of the friends she knew before we married who live in a nearby suburb and gather at each other’s houses to gossip and cast spells.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘I’m not sure. Now to the main pool.’

The path wound between rhododendrons in full flower until the vista opened and they were standing among an oval of columns surrounding a very large pool with a fountain at one side gushing water that burbled over rocks into the water. The sides were partially tiled, partially bordered by huge boulders between which grew slender palms.

‘That’s some pool! It looks like a lake in a Roman ruin in the forest. Shouldn’t those kids be at school?’

‘It’s holidays.’

‘Hey! That guy over there talking to the two girls is naked!’

‘That’s his official uniform.’

‘His skin?’

Arch grinned and nodded.

‘What about the kids?’

‘They’ve grown up with Hercules as the naked wild man they obey better than they do their parents. He’s an excellent Social Activities manager. We’d never get anyone as dedicated to replace him, so keep on his good side. I’d better introduce you in case he thinks you’re an intruder and buries you in the ruins.’

Hercules turned as they approached. He looked somewhere between thirty and forty, deeply tanned, built like a wrestler. Solid, broad shoulders, thick neck, powerful legs, arms, chest and abdomen. All body hair trimmed to about a centimetre. Sharply defined facial features would become attractively craggy in twenty years. Short curly hair and a neatly manicured moustache and beard enhanced a strong jaw line. He walked towards them. Everything in proportion, perfectly natural, genitals no more in need of covering than his elbows.

‘Hercules, I’d like you to meet my cousin who’ll be staying with me for a while. Mort, This is Hercules Buff’

Hercules encased Mort’s hand in a powerful grip and held on, eyeing him up and down without smiling. ‘Welcome.’

Mort gazed into the cold, pale blue eyes and felt a shiver of fear. ‘Thanks.’

With no indication of his intentions, Hercules suddenly released Mort’s hand and threw a punch straight at his face.

Reflexes tilted Mort’s head as he grasped the wrist and pulled down with all his strength. Hercules dropped to his knees and rolled onto his right side, dragging Mort with him, then rolled on top and pinned him to the ground. Mort looked up into amused eyes and was pulled to his feet.

‘That was brilliant, young man!’

‘Thanks. I realised too late you were going to pull the punch, sorry for over reacting.’

‘No, no. You did right. He who thinks is lost.’

‘How did you guess?’

‘Your stance when we shook hands—cautious, ready for anything.’

‘You’re smart.’

‘I keep my eyes open. How long are you staying?’

‘As long as Arch’ll have me.’

Hercules raised a questioning eyebrow at Arch.

‘As long as he likes. You gave me a bit of a shock there.’

Hercules nodded coolly and turned to Mort. ‘I’ve had several men asking for self-defence lessons, but I haven’t the time or expertise. Will you take it on?’

‘I’m not into that kung fu stuff with baggy trousers and things. And I’ve never taught anyone.’

‘But you’ve been taught. Well?’

‘I’ll give it a go, but I really only know how to maim and run.’

‘That’s what we want.’ He stood still and thought for a few seconds, then looked at Arch. ‘Can you vouch for this bloke?’ The question sounded remarkably like a snarl.

‘Yes, Hercules. If he blows up the place or rapes one of his pupils, I’ll take responsibility.’

Hercules turned to gaze back at the pool, then called a warning to two teenage boys running over the rocks. They stopped immediately. Turning back to Mort. ‘I’m run off my feet with the school holidays. Fancy giving me a hand? Arch will organise payment.’

‘Sure, but I don’t need paying.’

‘No paying; no job. I don’t want favours.’

‘That should be easy enough.’ Arch said thoughtfully. ‘Do you want Mort to wear the official uniform?’

‘It’s up to him.’

It took a second to sink in. ‘You’re on. I’ve always wanted to do nude self-defence. When do I start?’

‘Come to the office when you’re ready—Arch’ll show you where it is.’ Hercules turned abruptly and went back to guard the children swimming.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Arch asked with a slight frown. ‘When I said to keep on Hercules’ good side, I didn’t mean you had to work for him.’

‘I want to keep active. But he seems upset about something. Don’t you two get on?’

‘We don’t dislike each other.’

‘And that’s all you’re prepared to say on the subject?’

‘If we turn out to be family, I’ll fill you in.’

‘Fair enough. Where’s the theatre?

‘Follow me, and on the way I’ll explain about the lack of clothes. Hercules has been with Oasis since the beginning. An excellent worker, but occasionally when off duty he used to wander around naked. When the women complained he said there was nothing in his contract requiring clothes, and every now and again he had the urge to live like a natural animal. The residents had paid big money to buy into Oasis; it’s very exclusive and they call themselves Patricians, proving it by dressing well and behaving impeccably with exquisite manners. Most change for dinner and the children go to the best schools.’

‘Patricians? What’re they?’

‘The ancient Roman Upper classes, known for their lavish lifestyle, sleeping with their slaves of both sexes, and other decadent habits. Oasis is a bit like a theme park where the owners pretend they’re aristocrats. Look at those women over there, dressed to the nines, wearing hats and gloves just to play cards or watch their children play a game.’

So that’s why my clothes weren’t good enough. Am I an honorary patrician?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll have to keep borrowing your clothes.’

‘What’s mine is yours.’

‘Thanks. That woman’s wearing a toga thing. Beautiful hairstyle and jewellery.’

‘They do everything well because it makes them feel special.’

‘They are special.’

‘Yes, but at the beginning they only felt special for a while and then realised they could have had the same things for half the price elsewhere, and disappointment crept in.’

‘You say they. Aren’t you also a resident?’

‘Yes, but as well as my house I also own everything except the residential blocks. I bought forty hectares, that’s nearly a hundred acres of rainforest reasonably cheaply, intending to preserve it for posterity, but the local council didn’t like that idea, so upped the rates to force me to clear the forest and subdivide. I compromised by clearing a relatively small area and building the most expensive dwellings in the state at the time.’

‘So you’re worth a few dollars?’

‘Not unless I sell everything, which I won’t.’

‘Good. I love it here. But you were telling me about Hercules.’

‘At a meeting someone argued that as Oasis was still mostly original rainforest, having a naked savage in the grounds would make the place unique and very special indeed. A majority agreed so a couple of presentable Aborigines were invited to come every day and wander around naked with their boomerangs and throwing sticks. To the residents’ astonishment the two blokes threatened to sue us for the insult. So we paid them off and decided that Hercules would be better and cheaper. We offered him a revised contract making it compulsory for the Activities Manager to work naked. Hercules thought they were insane, but signed, and has never worn a stitch of clothing since, and we all feel very special indeed.

‘That’s wondrously bizarre.’

‘As Hercules says, it’s insane! But also funny and delightful and typical of the residents. I love them and I’m sure you will too once you get to know them. So... if you don’t mind being sky clad you can give him a hand.’

‘Sky clad?’

‘It’s what Indians say about naked Jains who wander around.’

Mort shrugged. ‘I’d prefer that to having to dress in my best every day. I’ll go see him in the morning.’

‘Good. Now... what do you think of that?’

‘Ha! Its the Colosseum where you throw Christians to the lions.’

‘No longer allowed, unfortunately.’

They moved into the shade of an archway and watched children swinging, climbing on frames and playing a ball game.

‘There’s enough grassed area for any sport. Some women play softball and there’s a game of cricket most weekends... but all just for fun... there are no competitions. Activity is for fun and keeping fit, not for scoring points and making losers feel rotten.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. Is that your idea?’

‘It is a condition Hercules laid down when he first started here.’

‘That makes me like him even more. What’s that?’ Mort couldn’t help laughing as they approached the circular Roman Temple. ‘It looks great, but it’s in ruins at the back.’

‘Those ruins are very cleverly disguised changing rooms and offices.’

‘I love it, but why have you made everything look like a semi ruin?’

‘Because all empires are built on the ruins of other cultures; our civilization as well. We’re actually in the process of destroying our current civilization along with most of the natural world.’

‘Deep, Archibald... very deep.’

‘Thanks. Come inside.’

Inside, ten semi-circular, creamy sandstone terraces rose steeply, giving excellent views onto an elaborate little stage that was fronted by a pedimented proscenium and royal blue curtains. Above the seating and stage, a domed roof appeared to float on creamy sandstone columns. Between the columns, statues of gods and goddesses gazed down, while above them circular windows filled the theatre with an amber glow.

‘This is a very beautiful space, Arch. You must be incredibly proud.’

‘Yeah, I am a bit.’

‘How many does it seat?’

‘Two hundred. We bring our own cushions.’

‘I can’t wait to see a show. I think you said Hercules’ office is here.’

‘Yes, in the fake ruins behind the stage are dressing rooms and the Activities Office where he hangs out. I’ll show you later. ’

‘Who cleans everything. The whole of Oasis is spotless. No litter, no dust and dirt. Everything I’ve seen is pristine.’

‘Every morning at one o’clock, a small electric train brings a dozen men who clean the buildings and common areas.’

‘What about security?’

‘They strip under surveillance cameras in a special building at the gate, take a shower, put on Oasis overalls, come in and work, then repeat the process when they leave at five o’clock.’

‘No women?’

‘Only because they refuse the security measures. The men like it because they can never be falsely accused of anything, and we pay them triple the going rate. As you can see they do a spectacular job.’

‘Very smart.’

‘It was Hercules’ idea.’

‘Honestly, Arch, I hope you are my father so I can say my dad designed this place, it is so utterly beyond anything I could ever dream of. I feel prosaic, dull and ordinary when I see this. No wonder everyone feels special living here. They are, it is, and so are you.

‘Mmm... damned by faint praise. But I guess its better than nothing.’

Mort laughed loudly. ‘You are so cool, Archibald! To make Oasis heaven on earth, is there anywhere I can go running?’

‘There’s a track just inside the boundary of the estate, hidden among the trees; its about eight kilometres. Long enough?’

‘Brilliant. I can’t wait to get running again. My legs feel as if they’re shrivelling away if I don’t give them a good pounding every couple of days. Do you jog?’

‘Never done it. Can’t see the attraction.’

‘Gives me an excuse to be on my own. By the way, you’re in bloody good shape for an oldie. How do you manage it?’

‘Thirty-two is not old, as you will one day discover! There’s an excellent Gymnasium just past the pool, but we’d better go, Calumnia hates being late for anything.