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  I first went to Binturang Springs, the location of the post office box, and talked to a Mr George Kingfisher, manager of the inn where my parents initially stayed. After trying with limited success to convince him of the desperation of the situation, he finally directed me to Henry Badgery, a tour operator who had conducted my parents on a personalized tour of the surrounding desert area. Mr Badgery said that he remembered my parents, that they were pleasant people, that they had befriended a young married couple, but he told me nothing more. I did not and do not trust this Mr Badgery, let me tell you right now. I am almost certain he’s a liar.

  I then contacted the Binturang Springs Post Office, where I was thwarted in my attempt to discover my parents’ current forwarding address by a callous postal clerk named Armando Bravada who refused to bend the rules despite the obvious gravity of the situation.

  Having received no help, I embarked upon what ended up being a nearly complete circle of your country. I flew to Perth, where my parents had earlier planned to meet Olive Ray if she had been able to use the tickets they sent. I visited the hotel indicated on the return address of the Express Mail to Mrs Ray, but no one gave me any useful information. I then headed east along your southern coast, following backwards the middle part of my parents’ original itinerary through impossibly named towns like Wagga Wagga and Wollongong. I took a dip down to Hobart, then back up to Melbourne, through Canberra (where your office was closed due to some royal holiday or other), then to Sydney and up to Brisbane and Cairns. Occasionally, I came across people who thought they recognized my parents’ names but not the pictures I provided. On the whole, I found out very little.

  It finally occurred to me while driving the considerable miles between resorts scattered along your northeast coastline that my method had been a thoroughly inefficient way to canvass for my parents. Actual Australia was much bigger than the picture I contained in my mind. It seems obvious, but I have been recently upset and my concern has sometimes taken over the better part of my reason. I realized there were a lot more people here than I’d thought, and I couldn’t just go looking without some guidelines. Again, embarrassingly obvious, but once you get an idea in your head, it’s hard to shake it.

  It was at this point that I returned to Binturang Springs and, unable to find either Mr Kingfisher or Mr Badgery, I paid another visit to Mr Bravada.

  Having had some long hours in my cell to reflect, I can honestly say that I regret that I acted like less than a gentleman to Mr Bravada. Although I would hardly regard my contact with him as ‘assault’ or ‘false imprisonment,’ it would seem that the Western Australia authorities disagreed enough to contact their Darwin counterparts. If I ever see Mr Bravada again, I would do my best to apologize. My arrest, though extremely inconvenient, is beside the point, however.

  I was able to get two interesting bits of information out of Mr Bravada. One was my parents’ current forwarding address here in Darwin (enclosed). The second was a telling comment about this Mr Badgery. Mr Bravada didn’t know all that much about Mr Badgery (or was keeping it to himself) but was able, after exhaustive interrogation, to tell me, and I quote, ‘Some people say that he [Mr Badgery] takes old folks out into the bush and brings young folks back.’

  Due to an unexpected loss of consciousness, Mr Bravada was unable to tell me anything more, but my concern for my parents’ wellbeing immediately increased. Using the address Mr Bravada had provided, I flew to Darwin and went straight to my parents’ hotel. The front desk clerk told me that there were a Mr and Mrs Bronwyn checked in. The young woman had not checked them in herself, but a bellhop thought he remembered a young couple by that name. Undoubtedly, these are the ‘friends’ my mother mentions in her letters. He believed that they had mentioned an older couple travelling with them and perhaps (there was some confusion) he had misheard who, in fact, was named Bronwyn.

  You can imagine my dismay that it was at this moment, when I finally had some answers within reach, that I was accosted by the Darwin Police and taken away.

  So, here I sit in Hughes Jail (or Gaol, is it?), awaiting heaven knows what fate, and I’m asking one last time for your help, Mr Coppedge.

  I’ve been thinking through scenarios that might have engulfed my parents, and I think I’ve figured it out. It involves Mr Badgery, and I shudder to think of it. He ‘takes old folks out and brings young folks back in.’ It’s clearly some sort of immigration scam. Mr Badgery lures some older folks into a tour group, takes them out to a desolate area, does dire misdeeds to them, and replaces them with younger couples who want to immigrate who then assume the identities of the ‘older folks.’ I am sure Mr Badgery makes a tidy profit.

  Murder is what I’m talking about, Mr Coppedge, something much more serious than these trumped-up ‘assault’ charges for which I sit imprisoned. I contend that my parents have been murdered by Mr Badgery and their identities have been assumed by a younger couple who have written letters as my mother saying that they’ve ‘suddenly decided to stay.’ It’s the only explanation that fits.

  Unless, of course, Mr Badgery has actually found a fountain of youth, but even I am not yet desperate enough to believe that.

  It’s so clear, Mr Coppedge, so clear what’s happened. I apologize for any past rash behavior on my part in my eagerness to find the truth, but there is murder most foul here and I humble myself and beg you one last time to investigate.

  Very truly yours,

  [signed]

  Dr Wayne Bronwyn

  Letter from Brian Coppedge, Australian Ministry of Immigration, to Dr Wayne Bronwyn, Darwin Jail. Hand delivered by messenger.

  Dr Bronwyn:

  Let me begin by saying that you have become the stuff of legend here at the Immigration Ministry, right alongside the Filipino man who had a sex-change operation so he could marry his Australian friend and become a citizen (made even stranger by the fact that the gentleman knew that we allow homosexual partners to immigrate yet went ahead with the operation anyway) and the Romanian woman who was not satisfied with just one Australian husband and somehow managed to wed four. You’re going into our folklore as the Son Who Harangued His Parents Right Out of Their Own Country.

  You may well find this insulting, but, after your verbal tirades, threats, and extraordinary actions, I feel little compunction to hide my personal distaste for you. You should, however, take it as a measure of pride. Even after you’ve left this country for good, which, I assure you, will be sooner rather than later, you’ll be remembered.

  All rancor aside (or most anyway), your behaviour has been of such astonishing effort that, as a parting gift, we have investigated enough of your claims to file this matter away permanently.

  Although we have yet to schedule an in-person interview (one step among many in the long immigration process: immigration doesn’t just happen, you know - we do look into things), I have spoken to your mother several times by telephone. She has been helpful in providing both factual details of their vacation as well as illuminating anecdotes about her son’s particular personality quirks. I can safely say that there is no doubt in my mind that your parents are safe and sound and simply wish to immigrate to this great country. I have also spoken with Mr Kingfisher, general manager of the Hollingsworth Hotel in Binturang Springs, as well as Messrs Badgery and Bravada, who, at the behest of our office, has generously agreed to not press charges in exchange for your prompt expulsion from the country.

  First of all, Dr Bronwyn, your murder claim is little short of ridiculous. As I’ve said, I have spoken many times to your mother by phone myself, and though she is somewhat confused and embarrassed by your persistence, she is vibrant, energetic, and very much alive. She provided details on the sale of their house back in Toronto, details which we independently verified with Canadian authorities, details which no ‘immigrant imposter’ could possibly know. In addition, we were able to obtain credit card receipts (matched again with cooperation from your mother) from various hotels along their entire itinerary, and sig
natures from the earlier part of your parents’ trip match exactly with signatures from later. If your parents had, in fact, been replaced in some bizarre immigration scam, I would have thought you would have noticed a change in the handwriting of your mother’s letters. No one is an exact enough forger to fool a son.

  As for Mr Badgery, we have discovered that he is a quite well-liked fixture in Binturang Springs, having led tours as far back as anyone can remember, something along the lines of forty years or more. I highly doubt that he could keep any murderous scheme afloat for four-plus decades and not raise an eyebrow until now. As for Mr Bravada, he recalls saying nothing along the lines of ‘old folks going in and young folks coming out,’ but then again, he remembers rather little of your attack, so traumatized was he at the literal and figurative browbeating he underwent at your hands. Once again, you may count yourself very lucky that Mr Bravada has agreed to let you move back to America rather than press charges. You may also count yourself lucky that our office chose to make the case to Mr Bravada to do so. There was strong sentiment here to let you sit in Hughes Gaol for as long as they would have you. However, we are a compassionate country, and as your mental capacities are clearly under some strain, we will choose to believe that you are acting outside your normal operating behaviour.

  And that, Dr Bronwyn, is that. We shall do no further investigating, though some of us here believed that we should have ceased after the illegal drug wild goose chase you tried to send us on. The case is closed. We are more than happy to welcome your parents into the country, and we are just as happy to usher you out. Accompanying this letter is an order to escort you to the airport and onto a plane back to America. Do not attempt to enter Australia again, Dr Bronwyn. It would be unwise.

  As a last note, may I implore you to get some help once you arrive home? As you are a physician yourself, I hope that you will be able to somehow objectively see your current state of mind and the actions that have resulted. Take our decision not to press charges as a second chance to get some professional assistance for what has clearly been a shock to your psyche. You might start with fear of abandonment issues.

  I am confident that you will reject these entreaties out of hand, but despite what you might think, we are concerned about your wellbeing. Honestly.

  Have a nice flight out. Any further inquiries from yourself or parties representing yourself will be returned unopened.

  Good day,

  [signed]

  Brian Coppedge

  Ministry of Immigration

  From Jessica Petty, Manager, Terra Australis Hotel, Brisbane, Australia, to Brian Coppedge. Typed. Mailed.

  Dear Mr Coppedge,

  I must apologize for the delay in my response to your request re: Henry and Elizabeth Bronwyn. We’ve been in the thick of the summer season, and your request got waylaid. As you haven’t contacted us for follow-up since originally calling, I trust that the information you needed wasn’t urgent.

  As a matter of fact, I remember the Bronwyns clearly. Young Canadian couple, yes? They were here just before Christmas. Exact dates: 21–23 December. I was on desk duty the night of the 22nd. I remember because we had a near-tragedy in our restaurant. A young boy eating at one of the tables began choking. Apparently, Elizabeth Bronwyn was sitting nearby and responded with the Heimlich Manoeuvre. Mrs Bronwyn and her husband were very modest about her actions and declined the family’s offer to pay for their hotel stay. I was so struck by the sheer self-effacement with which Mrs Bronwyn treated the whole situation that I made their visit free anyway, which is why I have to report that I don’t have the credit card receipts you requested.

  At any rate, I have nothing out of the ordinary to report about them, except for the above act of heroism. They checked out the day after with the best wishes of all our staff.

  Once again, I’m sorry for the delay in my response, but hopefully the matter was of as little urgency as your message indicated. These were smart kids, very impressive. I trust they’re not in any trouble.

  Yours truly,

  [signed]

  Jessica Petty

  Terra Australis Hotel

  From Elizabeth Bronwyn, to Dr Wayne Bronwyn. Handwritten. Mailed from unknown address, presumed to be northeastern Australia.

  Son,

  Your father and I had hoped there would somehow be a way for you to understand our decision to stay here. We had hoped that some day you would be in a frame of mind to be able to clearly comprehend our reasons. It has become obvious that such a day will never arrive.

  And more’s the shame, too. If you could, at all, appreciate the air and the light here, you might be able to see. The nice man from the Immigration Ministry told us about your sojourn across this great country. I hope you somehow, some way got a taste of this country’s rejuvenating powers.

  And then you went and got yourself arrested. Arrested! What were you thinking? How dangerous were you trying to make yourself? I can only imagine what you might have done if you’d found your father and me. How dare you put us in a position to be afraid of you?

  You want to share our lives, but sharing means that we give freely, not that you take. I’m so angry, I can barely see straight. If you only knew what you were missing out on, if there were only some way to get through that thick skull of yours.

  There are answers to everything, son, and you’ve managed to cheat yourself out of all of them. One day, perhaps, cooler heads might prevail, but for now, all I will say is that we’ve vanished to a new life.

  The letter is unsigned.

  Jesus’ elbows and other

  Christian urban myths

  Jesus Was Double-Jointed

  ‘They say if you look closely at paintings of Jesus on the cross from the Middle Ages, you can see his arms are bent slightly out. They’ve done studies, and it turns out that it’s because he was actually double-jointed.

  ‘Under normal circumstances, crucifixion killed fairly quickly. After an hour or so, you pretty much suffocated or your heart gave out. They’ve done studies on this as well.

  ‘Jesus had to stay alive a bit longer because he had his destiny to fulfil, of course. He had to live until he’d converted the two thieves crucified on either side of him and until the sky turned red on Good Friday. But he also had to be all human at the time, too, because that was kind of the whole point. What God did was make him double-jointed, so he was a bit more flexible and could hang there a bit longer, hold himself up, suffer a bit more and live long enough to fulfil his sacrifice. If you look closely at the paintings that hang in Rome, you can see that his elbows bend against the angle slightly more than is normal. It’s true, just look. They say it’s because of a scripture from Song of Solomon about how “his joints are like jewels”.

  ‘Later paintings don’t show this, but they say it’s because they were painted further away from the actual event.’

  The Missing Day

  ‘Like, okay, this guy I know, he has this friend whose uncle works at NASA, right? And so one day, they were, like, routinely checking the positions of the sun, the moon, and the rest of the planets in the solar system, both 100 years ago and projecting up to 100 years from now. They do this to make sure they’re mapping all the planets and stuff correctly, because they have to plan the trajectories of, like, satellites and space shuttles and other space craft to make sure nothing runs into anything else, you know? So they won’t, like, collide.

  ‘Anyway, it’s standard procedure. But so they’re doing this checking, and one of the guys, this scientist guy, notices that they’re missing, like, a day. Like, a whole day, right? Like, it doesn’t make sense, right? So they run it all over again, and then they expand their search even farther backwards and forwards because something’s off. They figure, these scientists, they figure somebody either, you know, fed the wrong information into the computers or somebody screwed up comparing the results or something, you know? Something went wrong somewhere.

  ‘So they, like, keep doing it, and keep checki
ng everything for accuracy and no one can figure out what’s wrong. This day, this one day, just keeps, like, not being there. This one missing day.

  ‘And then this one scientist, who happens to be a Christian, praise God, says he might know what’s up, that he might have the answer, right? But that, like, the other scientists might not like what the answer is, okay? Because, you know, it’s, like, from God, you know? See what I’m saying?

  ‘So these other scientists, they’re like, “Well, we don’t know any other way, you know, so, like, what have you got?”

  ‘And so like this Christian scientist, well, not a Christian Scientist, like, but a scientist who’s Christian, yeah? None of that funny business. This scientist goes that he remembers from his Bible readings about a story in Joshua when Joshua’s trying to, like, rescue Gideon. And he doesn’t have enough time, right? To make the rescue? So he asks God if He’ll make the sun stand still, right? Right? See where I’m going? So this scientist thinks this might be the day.

  ‘So the other scientists all go back in their calculations and observations and whatever and find that, in Joshua’s time that there’s this missing day, right? Can you believe it? So they’re all, like, scratching their heads and making their observations and wondering just what the heck to make of it because they’re scientists, right? And this is something out of the Bible, okay? But right then, one of the scientists, not the Christian one, obviously, goes, “A-ha! According to these calculations, the time missing here is only 23 hours and 20 minutes. Not a whole day. The Bible can’t be right.”