Jennifer Government: A Novel by Max Barry

yes?”
    “Hey,” she said. “That has nothing to do with this. It’s not me who can’t forget that, it’s you people.”
    “Are you working for the Government to atone for your past?”
    “Yeah,” she said. “I’m a real idealist.”
    “‘From the single-minded idealist to the fanatic is but a step.’ F. A. Hayek wrote that. ‘There is only one step from fanaticism to barbarism.’ That’s Denis Diderot.”
    “Someone should shoot you and drop you three floors,” she said. “You could write an article.”
    He sighed and made a note in the file. She didn’t think it was a good note.
    “You’re recommending I be suspended? Is that it?”
    “Jennifer, clearly you could benefit from a rest before returning to active duty.”
    “I don’t need a rest!”
    He looked up. “I’m told you don’t date. Is that true?”
    “I thought we weren’t discussing my sex life.”
    “It’s relevant to your loss of perspective.”
    “I’m leaving.” She stood up, too quickly. Her chair toppled backward and hit the floor.
    “Wait! Jennifer!”
    She slammed the door behind her. People in the corridor turned. She stared back at them. Outside the hospital it was dark and there were no cabs, so she stood by the road and waited. It wasn’t until her jaw began to ache that she realized she was clenching it.

    T he cab dropped her on Peckville Street and she struggled up to the front door. Jennifer was discovering how difficult it was to do anything with one arm in a sling, even to get into her own house. In the end she rang the bell.
    She owned a single-fronted house in North Melbourne, a small, innercity suburb that had so far mostly resisted the apartment block invasion. Jennifer had moved to Melbourne from Los Angeles nine years ago: she had needed an escape, Australia was completing its absorption into the United States, and the TV advertisements were calling it the new California. “Melbourne is L.A. without the smog,” a real estate man told her, which she guessed was true, but it was also L.A. without the amenities. She had been shocked by how small the place was. That had changed, of course. There had been so much construction since then that she hardly recognized the city anymore.
    The porch light flicked on. An eye appeared at the peephole. “Oh!” a girl said. She unlocked and swung open the door. “I wondered if you were coming home tonight.”
    “I—sorry. I should have called.”
    “No, it’s fine,” the girl said. “I’m just studying.” She hefted her bag. “I’ll hit the road, unless there’s anything you need.”
    “Um,” she said. “No, thanks.”
    “Give me a call if you need me again.” The girl banged her way out the front door.
    Jennifer went in and dropped her bag on the sofa. The hallway light was on, but Kate’s room was dark, so she snuck inside and stood there for a moment, letting her eyes adjust.
    “Mommy?”
    “Hi, sweetie.” She knelt beside the bed.
    “Your hair looks funny.”
    “They had to cut it. Look, I have stitches.”
    Kate touched Jennifer’s skull, feeling her hair. “I liked it better before.”
    “Well, I think it looks snappy,” she said. “Were you good for the baby-sitter?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good girl.” She stroked Kate’s face. “You want to have a glass of milk with me?”
    “It’s very late, Mommy.”
    “I know.”
    “All right.” She pulled back the covers. Jennifer took her hand as they walked to the kitchen. “Did you hurt your arm?”
    “A little, yeah.”
    “Is it going to be all right?”
    “Of course,” Jennifer said. “Everything always works out all right.”

15 Violet
    Violet woke and a man was sitting on her bed. “Hi,” he said.
    She scrambled away, pulling the blankets with her. “Who are you?”
    “I’m a friend of Hack’s. But he didn’t say anything about you. Are you his girlfriend?” He sat down on the bed. “You have nice shoulders.”
    “Where’s Hack?”
    “He went for a walk.” The