Clearances
An extract from "2032" available now in all ebook stores.
Fitzroy
"Fitzroy." Jack said.
"What?"
"Clearance."
It was enough of a novelty for them to be able to attend in person. The housing policy in action. Whole blocks of 5km square blocks were being cleared out for redevelopment. Today's target was Greeves Street by George Street in Fitzroy. Some compensation, although nothing near market rates. Then the bulldozers moved in and cleared it flat.
There was sporadic resistance from the owners. In this space only a small percentage, less than 10%, actually lived in the houses they owned. Mostly the owners were distant, and reluctantly accepted the compensation. In a lot of cases the owners were overseas. Hardly likely to jump on a plane and lie in front of a bulldozer. The renters in the space were overjoyed: with a 50% cut in their rent, and funded relocation to one of the new developments. They held parties, feted the government. To them, Ruby was a rock star.
Still, there was the occasional hold fast. Some older owners were quite sentimental. Reluctant.
Noah and Jack got on the 11 tram. Down Brunswick Street. Melbourne was trams. They were slow, cumbersome even. But while the world shifted on its axis it was reassuring that the trams were a constant.
"Profile?" Noah asked lazily.
"Middle sixties. Couple. Him a University professor. She some sort of artist. Lived there for nearly fourty years. Quite attached to the place."
"I love old people."
As they turned into the street, there was a small crowd gathered. It reminded them so much of their own early days. Pathetic home made signs denouncing the government. So fragile - let's hold a stick up and try and stop a tank. Just for a moment, a small moment, he felt sorry for them. That wasn't his job though. His job was to grease the wheels of government, implement the policy. He reminded himself of the horrors of the housing market.
They were going in low key. Keep their force down a side street. Two streets away was the full riot squad, with what looked like an army of groundbots. Like using a sledgehammer to crush a bug.
Some of them recognised Noah and Jack. A shout, a chant.
“Housing justice.”
“We will not be moved.”
The irony of that, Noah thought. Lifting a civil rights slogan for such a cause. What next, ‘we shall overcome’ for billionaires?
“Try talking them out?” Noah asked Jack
“It’s what Ruby would want. Image of new government. All that.”
The old guy at the front seemed to be prominent. Noah approached him. The chanting was rising, he had to gesture for him to step aside.
It was an instinct, wasn’t it? The engagement with civil discourse. Here the professor was leading a rabble. Expensive rabble, but he was going to engage wasn’t he?
Noah gestured for him to step aside.
“Quite the small gathering you have here. I’m Noah. You are?”
“I’m Professor Julian Presser. Yes I know who you are. You are here to destroy our home. Well you’re not going to get away with it.”
Had to use the title. Not much use in a street fight, he thought. But he smiled and tried to jolly him along.
“The compensation package is quite generous. I’m sure you appreciate the priorities of the new government.”
Cleary he did not. The eyes flashed with anger.
“You are a military dictatorship. I own this house and you are stealing it from me.”
“We provide generous compensation.”
“It’s a fraction of what it is worth.”
“Rampant speculation has made property prices quite irrational. We are here to break that cycle.”
“Bullshit. You are here to sweep aside those that don’t bow to your stupid government.”
“You don’t see the need to make housing more efficient?”
“What bullshit. It’s all about profits for your developers. That’s just a smokescreen.”
Clearly this wasn’t going to get anywhere. In the glasses Noah checked that everything was ready in the next street.
“Well the way we see it is in terms of a social contract. Yes, you own this house. That arrangement rests on a social fabric. You forget that. Very convenient for you.”
He stepped back, and the professor rejoined his group - the chanting began again.
The conversation wasn’t going anywhere.
“You ready?” he raised the riot group.
“Yes.”
“Go gentle on them. Ok”
Noah gestured and the riot squad appeared. It was all quite incongruous. They looked robotic with the shields and their body armour. Sweeping the old and the feeble up into the wagons. No real resistance, they were clearly not used to this sort of thing. Then the street was clear, and they gave the signal. He glanced around at the history that was about to be reduced to dust. Engines of progress, he told himself. Engines.
It was quiet in the car on the way back. No tram this time. On a schedule. They were both quiet.
“You have to think of the future.” Jack said.
“As opposed to quaint old houses.”
“Exactly. A city lives and breathes. Cells die. Parts that are no longer fit for purpose need to be replaced.”
“How very utilitarian.”
Fitzroy
"Fitzroy." Jack said.
"What?"
"Clearance."
It was enough of a novelty for them to be able to attend in person. The housing policy in action. Whole blocks of 5km square blocks were being cleared out for redevelopment. Today's target was Greeves Street by George Street in Fitzroy. Some compensation, although nothing near market rates. Then the bulldozers moved in and cleared it flat.
There was sporadic resistance from the owners. In this space only a small percentage, less than 10%, actually lived in the houses they owned. Mostly the owners were distant, and reluctantly accepted the compensation. In a lot of cases the owners were overseas. Hardly likely to jump on a plane and lie in front of a bulldozer. The renters in the space were overjoyed: with a 50% cut in their rent, and funded relocation to one of the new developments. They held parties, feted the government. To them, Ruby was a rock star.
Still, there was the occasional hold fast. Some older owners were quite sentimental. Reluctant.
Noah and Jack got on the 11 tram. Down Brunswick Street. Melbourne was trams. They were slow, cumbersome even. But while the world shifted on its axis it was reassuring that the trams were a constant.
"Profile?" Noah asked lazily.
"Middle sixties. Couple. Him a University professor. She some sort of artist. Lived there for nearly fourty years. Quite attached to the place."
"I love old people."
As they turned into the street, there was a small crowd gathered. It reminded them so much of their own early days. Pathetic home made signs denouncing the government. So fragile - let's hold a stick up and try and stop a tank. Just for a moment, a small moment, he felt sorry for them. That wasn't his job though. His job was to grease the wheels of government, implement the policy. He reminded himself of the horrors of the housing market.
They were going in low key. Keep their force down a side street. Two streets away was the full riot squad, with what looked like an army of groundbots. Like using a sledgehammer to crush a bug.
Some of them recognised Noah and Jack. A shout, a chant.
“Housing justice.”
“We will not be moved.”
The irony of that, Noah thought. Lifting a civil rights slogan for such a cause. What next, ‘we shall overcome’ for billionaires?
“Try talking them out?” Noah asked Jack
“It’s what Ruby would want. Image of new government. All that.”
The old guy at the front seemed to be prominent. Noah approached him. The chanting was rising, he had to gesture for him to step aside.
It was an instinct, wasn’t it? The engagement with civil discourse. Here the professor was leading a rabble. Expensive rabble, but he was going to engage wasn’t he?
Noah gestured for him to step aside.
“Quite the small gathering you have here. I’m Noah. You are?”
“I’m Professor Julian Presser. Yes I know who you are. You are here to destroy our home. Well you’re not going to get away with it.”
Had to use the title. Not much use in a street fight, he thought. But he smiled and tried to jolly him along.
“The compensation package is quite generous. I’m sure you appreciate the priorities of the new government.”
Cleary he did not. The eyes flashed with anger.
“You are a military dictatorship. I own this house and you are stealing it from me.”
“We provide generous compensation.”
“It’s a fraction of what it is worth.”
“Rampant speculation has made property prices quite irrational. We are here to break that cycle.”
“Bullshit. You are here to sweep aside those that don’t bow to your stupid government.”
“You don’t see the need to make housing more efficient?”
“What bullshit. It’s all about profits for your developers. That’s just a smokescreen.”
Clearly this wasn’t going to get anywhere. In the glasses Noah checked that everything was ready in the next street.
“Well the way we see it is in terms of a social contract. Yes, you own this house. That arrangement rests on a social fabric. You forget that. Very convenient for you.”
He stepped back, and the professor rejoined his group - the chanting began again.
The conversation wasn’t going anywhere.
“You ready?” he raised the riot group.
“Yes.”
“Go gentle on them. Ok”
Noah gestured and the riot squad appeared. It was all quite incongruous. They looked robotic with the shields and their body armour. Sweeping the old and the feeble up into the wagons. No real resistance, they were clearly not used to this sort of thing. Then the street was clear, and they gave the signal. He glanced around at the history that was about to be reduced to dust. Engines of progress, he told himself. Engines.
It was quiet in the car on the way back. No tram this time. On a schedule. They were both quiet.
“You have to think of the future.” Jack said.
“As opposed to quaint old houses.”
“Exactly. A city lives and breathes. Cells die. Parts that are no longer fit for purpose need to be replaced.”
“How very utilitarian.”
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