Question 1
This required me to record and transcribe a conversation. I’m not going to reproduce this here because some of it is private.
Question 2
This required me to turn the transcription into something that could be included as dialogue in a story. I’m not going to reproduce it for the same reason.
Question 3
This question asked for three different dialogues, taken from a given selection, or a made up one.
Sacking an employee
In she walked, the Jezebel. Swaying her hips and somehow
bouncing, despite her smooth carriage.
‘Please have a seat, Ms. Jones.’ I spoke pleasantly, belying
my inner storm.
‘How can I help, Mr. Smith?’ Her voice was low and seductive,
and she crossed her long legs provocatively.
She knows, I thought. But it’s too late.
‘I’m sorry it’s come to this, Ms. Jones. Mrs. Brown has come
to me about your recent performance. She said she has instructed you time and
again to wear clothing more suited to our office environment, and that you have
been tardy several times over the last month. She also says that she has repeatedly
told you to stay away from social media during work hours.’
‘She has?’ Her harlot’s eyes began to fill, and her voice
took on a wavering note that was purely designed to weaken my resolve. ‘But she
said that everything was going to be okay, that she was going to smooth things
over.’
‘Rules are rules, Ms. Jones, and I will not have them mocked.’
I put iron into my voice, speaking the words I had rehearsed. ‘I manage this
branch, and your standard of dress and slipshod approach to your work here campaign
against the high standards upheld by other employees.’
Her lower lip trembled momentarily, and then she started
crying in earnest. I steeled my heart against her and sat, unmoved. After a few
moments, she fired one last salvo. ‘Mrs. Brown said that customers liked me,
and she said that I brightened the branch up. Th- that I had a p- positive
effect on m- morale!’
She was wailing now, the trollop. ‘Please leave now, Ms.
Jones,’ I ground out. ‘Security is waiting for you at my door. Gather your effects
from your workstation and exit the premises. You will be sent two weeks’ pay in
lieu of notice.’
She stood and turned, her shapely figure trembling with the
force of her emotion. She left my office, the embodiment of feline grace.
How dare she? Working here for months, parading around in next
to nothing, all availability and come-hither looks for the customers, and all
of the staff. Everyone.
Except me.
Detective interviewing a criminal suspect
Detective John Taylor touched a button, and a green light
started glowing. John closed his eyes. ‘This is Detective John Taylor,
interviewing suspect Frank Williams. Interview starts at two-oh-one the morning
of January 1, 2019.’
John rubbed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them. He
looked at Frank. ‘Mr. Williams, let me get right to the point. Actually, do you
mind if I call you Frank?’
Frank shook his head, somewhat apprehensively.
‘What, I can’t call you “Frank”?’ Already, the exasperation
was building.
‘No, I don’t mind if you call me “Frank.” It’s my name.’
‘Frank, then. Frank, what the hell were you thinking?’ John
paused. Frank just sat there, doing his best impression of a deer caught in the
headlights of an approaching road train.
‘You’re in a very serious situation here. You’ve tampered
with the city’s traffic management system, occasioning some grievous injuries,
and some of these may become fatalities. We’re going to hit you with every
charge we can think of, including pulling off-duty officers away from their New
Year’s Eve parties. It’s certain that you’re going to end up in jail.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘Not what?’ John was thrown a bit of stride. He wasn’t used
to that kind of denial.
‘Certain. That I’m going to jail.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘It is! We’ve got a clear trail of evidence from the
software that controls the traffic management system to your IP address, to
your home. We found you sitting in front of your computer, with the hacking
software active. I don’t know how you did it, but you got the red light cameras
to recognise cabs, and you got something else to change all the lights in the
intersection to green whenever you spotted one. People got hurt in so many
accidents that we still haven’t finished counting.’
John paused again, waiting for something, anything from this
strange little man. Nothing changed. Then Frank blinked once. Twice. Then
nothing.
‘Well?’ asked John.
Frank blinked again. ‘Well, what?’
‘Don’t you have anything to say?’
‘About what?’
John closed his eyes again. Took a deep breath. Opened his
eyes. ‘About the charges the state will be pressing against you.’
‘It’s not certain. Nothing is.’
‘Oh, Frank. This is most definitely certain.’
‘But nothing is certain,’ Frank almost wailed, showing emotion for the first time. ‘My mum told me! “Nothing is certain,” she said, “except death and taxis.”’
‘Taxes,’ John corrected, almost absently.
‘And now I’ve proved that we can’t rely on them— what?’
‘Taxes,’ said John. ‘“Nothing is certain except death and
taxes.” That’s the saying.’
The colour drained from Frank’s face, and his mouth dropped
open. Then it closed with a ‘clop’ sound. He put his elbows on the table and
buried his face in his hands.
A lull in the action
‘You OK?’ The encrypted radio issued a burst of static when
I released the button.
Bill answered almost immediately. ‘For the moment. You?’
‘I’m good. Where are you? I lost track of you after that grenade
dropped between us. I went back and left, into the alley. The shrapnel just
blew straight past.’
‘I went right and ended up behind a dumpster.’
‘The Veolia one?’
‘Yes, the Veolia one. Geez. I mean, how many dumpsters did you see?’
‘Sorry. Hey, it was pretty loud from where I was. How’s your
hearing?’
‘There’s a lot of ringing going on, but we’re talking,
right?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
There was a pause, and then Bill asked how I was doing for
ammo.
‘Uh … getting a little low,’ I said. ‘Probably got enough
for what we have to do, but I won’t be bringing any back.’
There was a bit of a pause.
‘Steve?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I might be able to lob a couple of clips over to where you
are.’
‘What, haven’t you been using it?’
‘It’s not so much that I haven’t been, but that I won’t be.’
My breath caught in my throat for a moment.
‘What happened?’
‘I think some of that shrapnel came through under the
dumpster. I thought I was OK, because I couldn’t feel anything wrong. But I
can’t feel my legs. It doesn’t hurt, Steve.’ He paused. ‘But there’s so much
blood.’ His voice was getting weaker, but he sounded somehow disgusted. ‘I’m
going to die in a puddle of my own blood.’
‘I’ll be over there in a sec.’ I fished around in one of my
many pockets and pulled out a small mirror. I edged it out of the mouth of the
alley at the level of the pavement. I wanted to find out if I could see what
the opposition was doing. A shot rang out, and the mirror spun off down the
road.
‘You OK?’ Bill’s voice was the merest whisper, and the radio’s burst of static sounded somehow tired.
I pushed the button on the side of the radio. ‘For the moment.’