Firewall by Sue Pickard (Appeared in the January 2010 Issue) “I downloaded the form for you to have a look at.” Dan handed over a sheaf of papers. “Blimey. It must be twenty pages long.” “I’ve seen worse,” said Dan. “We’ve all seen worse.” Emma shook her head. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it might mark us out as—” “As what?” “As—well,subversives.” “Don’t be daft,” said Dan with more conviction than he felt. Emma put the papers down on the table. “Can’t we just go to the public display? Everyone else does.” “But it’s not the same, is it? Having to stand miles away behind that huge soundproof, fire resistant screen. There’s no atmosphere; you don’t get the noises, the whiz bangs, the ooh- aah factor; and you don’t get the smells either. You can remember the smells, can’t you?” Emma thought about it. Only just. It had all been a long time ago. “Are you really determined to do this?” Dan nodded. “Yes. As you know I’m a bit of a traditionalist.” Trust me, thought Emma, to get lumbered with a traditionalist. She picked up the form from the table. “Okay, let’s have a look at it. Right. Serial number.” “They’ll have that on the database.” “Location?” ‘Back garden.’ “You can’t just put ‘back garden.’” “Why not? They know where we live.” “True. Right. What’s next? ‘Who might be harmed and how?’” Dan considered this. “Well, children, I suppose, and the neighbours.” “Do you think they’ll come?” “I hope so. Although not George, obviously.” “No. What do you think he’ll get for disabling a camera?” “Three to five years, probably.” Emma glanced up at the corner of the room. “Fair enough, I suppose. We don’t want to go back to the bad old days: people smoking at home, eating junk food, not recycling their rubbish, viewing kiddie porn on the internet. That’s what led to all those child abductions.” Dan looked round warily then mouthed something at Emma. “I’ve heard they still go on.” She shook her head in vigorous warning. Dan turned his attention back to the form. “And then we have to assess the risk: ‘Trivial,’ ‘Adequately controlled,’ ‘Not adequately controlled,’ ‘Action required,’ or ‘Unknown.’” Emma sighed. “This was your idea. You deal with it.” Dan went through the form, considering each section. When he was satisfied he could answer all the questions, he sat down in front of the computer, set up the webcam, activated the iris recognition software, and logged on. The screen flashed up a message: “Firewall installed.” Dan uploaded the form, filled in all the sections, pressed send. A grinning talking head, affecting cosy bonhomie, appeared on the screen. “Welcome, Head of unit 100038902.” Dan smiled back. He’d found it was the safest thing to do. “We are processing your application. Please could you confirm that all the adults attending are in possession of up-to- date Criminal Record Bureau checks.” “Of course,” said Dan. Stupid question. “Excellent. We’ll get back to you.” Jamie came running over. He was Dan and Emma’s only child. Under the rules they were only allowed one. “Dad, are we really going to have—” Dan reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair then hastily withdrew his hand. Overt displays of affection towards children could look incriminating on camera. “I hope so, son.” The talking head reappeared on the screen. “I’m afraid we’ve encountered a problem.” It looked pleased to be able to impart this information. “Head of unit 100038902 is in possession of a lapsed CRB check.” Jamie looked at his father in dismay. “Not again, dad.” The boy had a point. Third time this year. Dan could have sworn he’d updated his CRB, but this latest requirement for parents to renew them every three months was catching a lot of people out. Emma came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Did I hear that right?” Dan nodded miserably. “How long do you think we’ve got?” “It’s usually fifteen to twenty minutes.” Twenty minutes later, they heard the scream of sirens and then the sound of a pass key being turned in the front door. You never knew what you were going to get with the child protection enforcement officers. Some were okay, others were heavy handed. Dan didn’t like the look of these two. “Making a bit of a habit of this, aren’t you?” said one of them as she snapped the handcuffs on Dan’s wrists. “Anyone would think you had something to hide.” Dan could feel the sweat forming on his upper lip. “Of course I haven’t.” The other officer came in close and, although careful not to touch Dan, his words were like jabs in the ribs. “Really? That’s odd. Because everyone is a suspect.” How could Dan forget? That slogan was plastered everywhere. Before they took him away, Emma plucked up the courage to ask when Dan was likely to be home again. The female officer shrugged. “If he gets clearance, about four weeks.” Dan did a quick calculation. A month. The end of November. Looking through the upstairs bedroom window as rockets from the public display bloomed silently in the night sky, Emma couldn’t help thinking that in some ways Dan had got his wish. This year they were staying at home to watch the fireworks.
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