The Eden Effect by David Finchley Page A

He liked Martin too, despite his somewhat gruff manner and un-approachability. Natalie was great company and gorgeous to boot. The cops were becoming good friends, although Arthur felt a little uneasy when they jokingly hit on him. Eden was a great town to live in. He felt relaxed and almost happy, more so than he had done for a long time. But he couldn’t see himself living this life long term. He was a big city man. He thrived on the hurly burley of big business, big deals, first class travel to exotic destinations, good food and wine. Apart from good food and wine, which Eden surprisingly did have to offer, the other things, Eden could never provide.
    But what he told Martin was true. He had no plans to leave in the foreseeable future. Where would he go? His old life was closed to him and he had no idea where or how he would make a new start. So, for now, Eden would do.
    â€˜I’ll give it my best shot to break the record, Martin. I do like it here. The company is good. The job, well that could be a little more challenging. And as for the media blackout, I’m getting use to that.’
    The topic of Martin’s rule had not come up since the first day. Arthur managed without the TV and radio at home. He found he really didn’t miss it. He took to reading. Martin had a Kindle, which had been a gift from Natalie and which he never used and he allowed Arthur to use it. Arthur had always been an avid reader. Not so much of late. He loved books, loved the feel of them, the smell of them. He took a little while to adjust to the Kindle, but after a week he was hooked. A book could be downloaded in seconds and so cheaply. He spent his evenings when he was at home reading novels. He had read several in the four weeks he had been there. He got the news from the local paper, which he bought after the morning run. That was enough. If he missed some news somewhere in the world, well, that was just too bad.
    â€˜You know, Martin,’ Arthur said, ‘I don’t miss TV or radio at all. It’s actually quite liberating not revolving your evenings around the TV schedule. To be honest, I have no idea why you have your rule, but it is not a bad one at all.’
    â€˜There’s a stop coming up, Arthur. After that we have twenty minutes before the next one. I think, I might just tell you.’
    A minute later, the van stopped. Arthur picked up the container, deposited it on the doorstep, and picked up the empty container, got back in the van where he put the empty one in its correct position, put his seatbelt on and waited.
    Martin drove off. He did not say anything for the next minute or two and Arthur continued to wait.
    Martin cleared his throat and began.
    â€˜I’ll try to make a long story as short as I can. Needless to say, what I’m about to tell you stays with you. You cannot discuss it with anyone. No one. Not even Natalie. She knows, but you are not to talk to her about it, or to anyone else.’
    â€˜You have my word, Martin,’ was Arthur’s earnest reply.
    â€˜OK. Where to start. At the beginning, I suppose. My mother died giving birth to me. She bled to death, I was told. My father had been a brief fling, and had left for overseas before I was born. I never knew his name. My grandparents, my mother’s parents brought me up. They were the only parents I knew. When I was ten years old they were killed in a car accident. To be precise, they were both decapitated by a steel beam that had come off a truck and went through the car. I was in the back seat. It was on the Westgate Bridge. We were on our way to Scienceworks. It was a Sunday and the sky was blue. Their severed heads landed on my lap, and a large proportion of the blood in their bodies landed on me. Are you getting the picture, Arthur? To say I was traumatised is an understatement. It was by far the worst moment of my young life. And to make matters worse, that moment was prolonged for months. You can imagine