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.’
