Topic Prompts

I have come to an understanding with myself. Some topic prompts I just can’t write about. My mind says no, you will not do this. I have spent hours bashing myself up over a topic to no avail, the topic will not settle, and I cannot write one comfortably pleasing word in the space. Take this latest topic “tilting at windmills” sounds easy enough. I understand the meaning both in the original Don Quixote sense and in a modern sense. The absurdity of fighting something that is not a real threat.  Don Quixote with his jousting sticks attacking windmills, through McCarthyism in the U.S, right down to modern politicians who may pursue symbolic battles that have little practical impact. Their actions only serve to dramatize their role as defenders of us, the people. I say bring on the old them and us and we have something to fight for, even if we don’t really understand what it is, it’s about them, so it must be bad.

In my battle with this topic, I pencilled in an outline of a story on paper, then took it to the computer to flesh out. My fingers tremble on the keys. As I type I feel anathema for the subject welling up in me. My writing spirit now detested, loathed, by me. A curse put on my pen. The character so horrible that I can’t scratch in another word. Iet me show you what I mean. Here is a brief journey through my battle, you will see.

My story begins in a time not so far past. Set in a town found at the end of a remote highway. Canberra. A town filled with bureaucrat’s and roundabouts. Icy cold winters and some would say, even colder hearts. At its centre a building designed to keep its inhabitants underground away from the average man’s gaze, lest they be struck down. It has been said that a week spent in this place is equivalent to a year spent in the normal world. All rules of polite society are suspended for the occupants of this building.

loyalty is hard to find. Power play has its own smell and expression. Brutus would have been at home here. Machiavelli wrote the textbook for tenure. The current government cabinet is today in session. Behind closed doors the Minister for Home affairs and security, Patrick Adams is delivering an impassioned call for cabinet to understand his fears and endorse his ideas.

‘Ministers, the electric vehicle many of you are driving really is a time bomb. The battery you install in your home really is a time bomb. The Chinese makers have their fingers on the software that makes these things work, or fail, or at the flick of a switch, explode’ In a time of conflict all hell could break loose on us when the Chinese close down our water services, our military equipment, our power grids’

The Prime minister cut in at this point. ‘Minister, surely you over state the risks, exaggerate the outcomes. These devices are at the heart of the government policy we took to the people. They reduce CO2 in the atmosphere. We are not going to walk back that commitment to satisfy your paranoia. Leave it there Minister, you have had your say’ With that he turned to the next item on the agenda.

Patrick’s hands were shaking under the table as he tried to not show his anger. After the meeting he approached the Prime minister in the halls. This time he was dismissed with a flick of his hand. left alone, stewing his position, Shoulders down, Patrick dragged his feet back to his rooms to meet with his assistant John.  Shutting the door behind him he turned to spew out his frustration. As much to himself as anyone.

‘To my friends John, I’m an honest man. So I tell you honestly, I am this day made a true villain. Any discomfort the prime minister can feel will be comfort to me. Any chaos or pain felt as widely as may happen is no more unconscionable to me than pulling the wings from a bee to stop its enterprise’.

‘Strong words me lord’

‘Keep that up John and I’ll be caused to call you Latrine again’

‘I may be able to help you in your quest me lord, if you are so determined to go down this path’

‘What do you have in mind John’

‘You know the Prime Ministers family business is in auto dealerships’

‘yes’

‘I have photos of him shaking hands with a couple of Chinese auto company CEO’s. Those CEOs are also members of the Chinese communist party, you get my drift, how strong are those relationships’

‘Sweet manna John, what made you keep them?’

‘Future Insurance me lord, but they are yours’

‘Can you get them to a friendly news outlet without leaving a trail?’

‘I am having lunch today in commonwealth park, I may meet with a friend of mine who loves exclusives’

‘Give him a headline John, but don’t leave a trail back to us’

Three days later sky news asks the question ‘Why would the Prime minister be in such close company with Communist party member’s’ and it goes viral, photos and all. The opposition seize upon the opportunity, expanding accusations about where the Prime minister’s loyalties lie.

Patrick is gleeful, ‘Set up a press conference John. I can offer my loyalty to the PM, and in all innocence drop in the next questions for him to answer. You know the right journalists, script the event to best effect. Today we demonstrate the betrayal of democratic ideals. Create a false narrative where I am the lone defender of the people’s interests’

‘Speak and It is done me lord’

A few hours later In answer to a reporter’s question. ‘The Prime minister and I discussed this exploding Chinese batteries thing recently and at the time he had no real fears of their being a problem. We didn’t discuss his association with the communist party members, but he is a good man and I am sure that he will make all this clear to us. He has my total support; we are united as a party.

The furious Prime Minister came storming down to Patrick’s office. ‘What’s all this shit about exploding batteries Patrick, you dropped me into it today’

‘I spoke no more than the truth Prime minister. I brought this up in Cabinet last week and then again in the hall afterwards. You did indicate that you had no worries on this issue. Today I thought to try and support you’

With this the Prime minister flung the door open and stormed out leaving Patrick and John smiling at each other.

‘Trust is as fragile as it is dramatic John. Its rise and fall make for compelling storytelling. Let him fight windmills, while we stab him in the back. Where to next’

‘Do and say nothing me lord. Maintain your position as defender of us all. I can throw petrol on the fire at the appropriate moments. Let the PM and media fight it out while the public lose faith in him. His position will be undermined through perceived corruption, misinformation, authoritarian drift’

For two weeks the battle raged on. Having a real sounding story the media loved it. Now with his position seemingly untenable the Prime Minister offered his resignation for the sake of Australian democracy and the party.  He said that he had been stewing this decision for a while as he needed to spend time with his growing family.

Patrick and John danced around the office with glee. Out of the office they spoke of the shock they felt over what happened, it was of course unfair.

‘This means that the party will need a new PM me lord. I suggest that you start counting the numbers. You carry great authority at the moment’

‘Yes John, I believe I will’

‘There will be a byelection for the prime minister’s seat after he leaves, me lord. I want you to make sure that I am given the party nomination for that seat’

‘What are you talking about! You are a staffer John, what makes you believe that you should get his prime seat’

‘Remember my future insurance work me lord. I have kept details of everything you and I have done over time, you get my drift’

Patrick paused for a moment, while looking straight into John’s eyes.

‘Sharp wit and allegory allow this theatre to thrive John. Today you give me a lesson while your performance perfectly maintains the true nature of this place. Such is the raw nature of political authority my mad friend’

There that’s it. I told you.  How could anybody like my character enough to root for him. The feeble-minded part of me brought him into existence but he has no merit in my eyes. I was supposed to write about tilting at windmills, yet this is what I write. Then again, when I think about it, maybe I have been, tilting at windmills all along!

 

© Greg Jacques 18^th October 2025