By Ed Morehouse

“Hey, here he is. The new man!” Wayne said. 

Two of the other three men sitting with Wayne laughed good-naturedly. They shook Dave’s hand. He sat down on a spare milk crate. One man watched, unsmiling. He offered no hand to Dave. 

Dave looked at him. “Johnno.” 

John nodded curtly.

“You right, John-boy?” Wayne asked. “Bloody hell. Bloke’s just gotten out of hospital, six-million-dollar man and you can’t say g’day?”

John still said nothing.

“Right,” Wayne said. “Anyway, forget him. How’d you go?”

“Yeah, good. Got the new gears in one knee and in me back,” Dave said. 

Wayne asked, “Can you feel ‘em working or anything?”

“No, nothing like that. Really small things, like in your phone. Got special software inside.”

“Software?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah. For updates, so you keep improving as you get older sort-of-thing.”

“Faster and stronger?”

“No, just don’t fall apart as quick.”

“That sounds alright.”

“Is it free, is it?” John interrupted.

“No,” Dave said. “Course not. Just comes out of my account on pay day.”

“And what if you can’t pay? What then?” John asked.

“Well, they wouldn’t have put them in in the first place, would they? It’s not your money. Obviously,” Wayne said.

“Yeah, right,” John replied. He looked as if he had a reply but kept it to himself. He grunted and walked away. 

“Forget him,” Wayne said.

“No worries,” Dave said. “Always got something on his mind.”

“Well, you’re a better bloke than me.”

“Obviously,” Dave said and shook his leg at his friend.  

***

Wayne came out of the loading dock door just before the bell rang for the end-of-break, hoping to catch a quick smoke.

When he saw Dave lying face down on the bitumen, his phone nearby, Wayne threw his ciggie away and ran to his friend. 

“Dave! Bloody hell mate! Hey!” Wayne yelled. Quickly, he sought calm, remembering to roll Dave on his side. He checked for a pulse and breathing. Both there, thank God.

Two others emerged and, quickly, called the ambulance. People asked the usual questions, but Wayne had no answers. 

Message alerts sounded from the nearby phone. Wayne picked it up, almost apologetically, thinking it might be Marnie, Dave’s wife. The others went down to the road for the ambulance. There were no sirens yet. 

Wayne opened the first message, knowing it wasn’t Marnie, feeling guilty for prying in his mate’s business. 

‘What’re these?’ he said to himself. He read the messages.

‘Payment overdue’ ‘Final Notice sent’ ‘Apps taken offline today’

Three notices. Three apps. Three parts.

His knee and his back. That’s what Dave had said. But there must’ve been one other. One he didn’t tell them about. Something inside that had caused this. 

Sirens. He hadn’t even heard them coming. 

The ambulance parked and the green-clad officers were at Dave’s side. Equipment. Complicated names. Needles. Stretcher. Then they were gone. 

Wayne stood alone, Dave’s phone in hand. He pushed the button on top. 

And the screen went dark.

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