Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The same hour, Brisbane.

Nine hundred kilometers north of Sydney, an office where Queensland's dazzling sun poured.

A man in an expensive tailored suit, long hair swept back, stood with his back to the window, looking at a huge map of all Australia filling one wall.

On the map, circles drawn in red pen were scattered like constellations along the eastern coastline.

Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, and Perth at the western end on the opposite side of the continent.

Knock knock—

With the knock, a man holding a file came in.

An Asian secretary who spoke a perfect Australian accent.

"Boss. A call came from the Sydney side."

The man, not taking his eyes off the map, slowly drew a circle again over Brisbane with the red pen.

"How many did they send up?"

"······Two."

The moving pen stopped dead.

The man turned his head for the first time.

There was no particular expression on his face.

He only turned eyes sunk cool toward the secretary, and the secretary swallowed without knowing it.

He was a very cold and cruel person.

"In a chicken coop with over ten, only two?"

"That······ they say a troublemaker came into the Sydney share house. A man called Han Jeong-su, his spirit is so strong he scattered the kids' mood, so it was hard to sweep and send them like other years······."

Han Jeong-su.

The man's gaze stayed briefly on Sydney on the map.

And he, as if nothing, turned his eyes to another region.

"A guy who can't catch one greenhorn has no use. Tell that Park Ji-hun to handle it himself."

"Then shall we leave the Sydney side for a while...?"

"Enough."

The man tapped the red circle of Brisbane on the map with a fingertip.

His interest was already toward somewhere else.

"How long are we going to live off cheating working-holiday people in the contractor trade. The seed money is gathered enough now. We have to advance into the major market like the whites from here. James, you know what's going crazy in this country right now. Right?"

The secretary answered carefully.

"······Real estate."

"Right."

A cool smile passed the man's mouth.

He looked greedily out the window at the housing of red roofs spread without end.

"We have to go up too. How long will we live wiping the backs of farm whites. First we enter this Brisbane real-estate market."

"Understood. Sir."

He turned toward the map again.

The name Han Jeong-su he had just heard was already erased from his head.

* * *

Five in the dawn.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and straightened my clothes.

Both chest pockets bulged.

The certificate wallet earned in Korea and the certificate wallet newly earned in Australia were each stuck in.

And inside them, a stiff white card and a forklift certificate.

Today is the day I start work.

I put on, top and bottom, a fluorescent hi-vis work uniform dazzling enough to sting the eyes, and firmly took up safety boots with a heavy steel cap in the toe.

Like this, it was the unmistakable outfit of an Australian site laborer.

"Good. Perfect."

I checked once more whether anything was missing, and came out of the bathroom.

Opening the door, the stale smell came again.

There are women too, clearly, and I do not know why this smell does not disappear.

If it is like this even after cleaning, it means the problem is somewhere else.

'Tsk. Not something for me to mind.'

The share-house living room was quiet as a dead mouse.

Four people having left all at once in a short time, the spots felt empty.

For a few days, there had been quite a few changes inside this cramped chicken coop.

Two men, Seong-min and Gi-cheol, had left for a country farm saying they would get more experience, and two women, unable to find jobs in the city, had gone over to another region entirely, they said.

Clearly the city had many jobs, but good jobs seemed rare.

Still, the friends here were finding jobs one by one too.

But Park Ji-hun and that friend of his, aren't they looking for jobs?

Every time I see them, it feels as if they are only home every day.

Another change, the woman who had been scolded by me and poured tears packed her things and went entirely into the master room where Park Ji-hun was.

Having lived life, I know there are people of the sort who walk into the mud themselves.

That is their choice, so I decided not to mind it.

I took the sandwich packed in advance from the fridge and opened the front door without regret and left the chicken coop.

Just getting out the door, the refreshing cold air of dawn stabbed the lungs.

Going to the ground lot, walking toward the white New Korando set sturdy, I habitually approached the left door of the car and pulled the handle.

"······Ah."

Only facing the empty passenger seat did a dry laugh break.

Because of the inertia of holding the wheel in Korea for decades.

Australia, from British influence, had the wheel on the right.

"Uwa. It really doesn't adapt."

I cleared my throat and went around the car and got into the right-side driver's seat.

Putting the key in and starting, a huge heart woke with a heavy vibration.

Befitting the fame of Silky Six, the smooth, beautiful sound of an inline-six engine cut the dawn air and rang light.

Shifting the automatic and pressing the accelerator, the white Korando raced without hesitation on Sydney's roads.

"Keu! This kills."

I made the small mistake of turning on the wiper instead of the indicator a few times, but even that was a cheerful morning.

Toward Wetherill Park, where a new challenge waited, I raised the sturdy flag called Korando and ran.

* * *

Arriving at the company, it was still pointing to 5:45 in the dawn.

Thinking it had taken over an hour by bus, it was a great advance.

Parking the car on one side of the yard, passing the huge steel fence and opening the office door, a familiar face greeted me with a thick coffee scent.

"Hi, Rosie."

Perhaps because we had grown quite close over the weekend fixing the car and going around looking at used cars together, her smile was more natural and kind.

"Good morning, Jeong-su! Not even late from the first day, very excellent?"

Scanning me up and down in the dazzling fluorescent work uniform, Rosie laughed playful.

I too shrugged lightly and smiled back.

"Of course. But why did you come in this early? Office work usually starts at nine, doesn't it?"

At my question Rosie shook her head as if no chance.

"An Australian site morning starts early, originally. The site turns at six, so the office can't open at nine. Instead my finish is four in the afternoon. A perfect time to leave before the traffic and go surfing, or drink beer at a pub."

Hm? Is she asking me to buy.

It seemed she passed some information?

She threw a light wink and handed me a blue ballpoint and an old clipboard with a thick bundle of documents clipped in.

"Right, no time to chat. First I'll teach you how to fill a time sheet."

After that Rosie poured a work explanation.

The most important time sheet, you had to write your full name on the paper, and write the employee number and the date of work exactly.

And start time, lunch out, lunch in, finish time, had to be entered in the boxes accurate to the minute.

Usually lunch is thirty minutes, and that interval is unpaid, they say.

Australia's pay system seemed extremely strict and exact, more than I thought.

And she told me that while working, every three hours there is a fifteen-minute paid break.

That was a duty set by law, or so.

This was similar to a Korean site too.

Next was the process of reading the emergency exit route and the site safety rules and signing.

Only when all this orientation ended was I put into the yard.

"Jeong-su! Fighting!"

I paused a moment.

That is her teasing me.

Over the weekend I taught her that in Korea, when you say hang in there, you say fighting, and she was the woman who clutched her belly laughing, asking if I was going to a fight.

The middle finger half raised was blocked by Rosie's playful eyes and quietly went down again.

'Watch, Rosie.'

Thinking of a way to get revenge, I took the clipboard and left the office.

* * *

The same hour.

Outside the office, a huge yard still with a bluish dawn light, the sun not yet up.

On one side of the site where pipes and materials of tens of tons were piled like a mountain, five or six white workers of huge build were pouring hot instant coffee from a thermos into paper cups and watching the office side carefully.

"They said one new forklift hire comes today, and that friend seems to be him."

Someone said, seeing the Asian walking into the office.

"Aigo, saved. Volume pouring like mad, and operators short, I thought I'd die doing overtime for days."

At the news that new hands would be added everyone brightened, but Carl, a worker in the crowd whose build was especially big and whose face was dirty, spat on the ground and grumbled.

"What's fortunate? At a glance a greenhorn who came on a working holiday. Obvious. Will he even understand English properly? Brats like that, roll them two days and they'll whine and run. Only the cleanup will increase, damn."

At his words, openly showing turf and distrust because he was an Asian working-holiday person, Gary, the senior-most foreman smoking in the middle of the crowd, put in a sharp word.

"Shut up, Carl. Everyone's dying busy, so be grateful a new hire came in, that's all. If it bothers you, you go grab your friend who can run a 6-ton forklift by the collar and bring him."

At Gary's roar, Carl, who had been grumbling, pouted and tucked his tail.

Gary blew cigarette smoke long and said.

"From what I heard from the HR manager, that friend isn't a simple backpacker. Ex-soldier, and an engineer, he said. A veteran who ran heavy equipment in Korea, so he absolutely won't be a clumsy greenhorn. So don't set turf for nothing or do nonsense and poke his temper. We're in a situation where even one person is missed right now."

Gary threw a heavy warning, then jerked his chin toward Peter, the young worker in the crowd who was the most easygoing and humming.

"Peter. You have the best temperament in our yard, so you take that new hire's OJT. Hand over the yard structure, material locations, and the forklift assignment, all of it."

"Uh······? Me?"

A flustered look passed Peter's face for a moment.

However good the temperament, taking an unfamiliar Asian new hire around in a morning dying busy and teaching from one to ten was quite annoying and cumbersome.

Inwardly sighing shallow, 'ah, this morning's work is all tangled', he could not refuse the foreman's order and showed an awkward good-natured smile.

"Ahaha······ yes. Understood, Foreman Gary. I'll show that friend a very thick Australian welcome."

Beyond the gaze of Peter scratching the back of his head, an Asian opened the office door and was walking toward the yard with a confident stride.

* * *

Stepping out the office door, a white young man who had come out of the worker crowd approached with a good-natured smile.

"G'day, mate. You're the new hire? I'm Peter. I took your OJT today. Good to meet you."

He took off a crude leather glove and offered a handshake.

Calluses were felt firm in the clasped hand, but what drew the eye more than that was Peter's looks.

Peter seen close was handsome enough that even I, the same sex, would admire.

Dark blond swept soft, deep blue eyes as if a lake were set in, and a jawline cut as if by shadow.

Healthy bronze skin tanned in the blazing sun and a tall height added, and it was enough to wonder why he was doing this here.

'Are looks like this common in Australia?'

"Good to meet you, Peter. I'm counting on you."

I hid the inside and offered a flat greeting.

Peter smiled with his eyes and jerked his chin toward a yellow Toyota forklift with the engine running.

"First get on the step beside my forklift. The yard is so wide that explaining while walking takes an age. Hold tight and don't fall."

I got on the side step of the forklift without hesitation.

And I gripped hard the thick iron pillar holding the operator's seat.

Peter put it in gear and stepped on the accelerator, and the forklift poured a heavy engine sound and black smoke and ran hard into the middle of the huge logistics yard.

While morning sun began to light the wide industrial complex, Peter turned the wheel skilled with one hand and began pointing out each part of the site in detail.

"Right, the yard is divided into three zones. Zone A we just passed is light pipe and aluminum materials. And zone B piled like a mountain in front now is for H-beam and steel plate. You'll mostly lift heavy stuff in zone B for a while."

'From the start he gives the tight, rough zone.'

I only thought it inwardly, and nodded.

Peter went on explaining.

"The aisle here is narrow, so be especially careful when you turn the radius."

He was not simply telling the location.

From the knack of catching the center of weight when lifting goods, he looked after in detail the fine parts a new hire might get wrong on site.

Damn! Handsome, and a good temperament too!

Ordinary workers do not tell know-how like this well.

"And how to identify materials! Each material has a barcode, but as you see there's a lot of dirt dust in the yard and iron scrapes against iron, so scanner errors happen tremendously often. So don't trust only the barcode. Always check double, with your eyes, the product code of alphabet and number combination scrawled in paint marker on the material face, against the paper documents you're holding."

The forklift moved again and headed toward a place like a small shed.

"See the blue forklift set in that corner? That's the dedicated machine you'll ride from today. The key is always stuck under the seat, so every morning when you come in, check oil and coolant first."

"Okay. Confirmed."

When I nodded, Peter tapped the UHF radio on the shoulder of his work uniform.

"This is the most important thing, the site is big and noisy, so when you call, use the radio no question. Channel 3. When you call, 'Peter, copy?' like that. Operator names are on the paper documents, so check, and sometimes truck drivers ask the unload spot by radio when they come in the front gate, so keep your ears open always."

"Then if the product code on the documents the truck driver brought is different from our invoice? Don't unload, have them wait, then radio Rosie in the office first and confirm?"

Throwing the question as if obvious, using the experience of the previous life, Peter stopped turning the wheel and opened his eyes round.

"Oh! Right, exact. Never unload the goods as you like first. Radio the office right away and cross-check. Wow, you really have a head for work? I heard from the manager you drove heavy equipment in the army, and it was real."

At Peter's attitude, answering without a block every question, and with sincerity, not one look of annoyance, I felt a deep liking.

'They said Australia, because of White Australia, would have lots of bastards doing racial discrimination and turf, and it's better than I thought.'

I laughed and sometimes threw jokes at Peter.

"With that face, why not do model or actor, why drive a forklift?"

"Haha. Thanks for the compliment, but I'm not that much. At my level it's common."

Crazy. If that is a common face, is my face a squid somewhere?

"Peter. Don't say that anywhere. I'm confident, but the ones who aren't will try to smash your fine face."

"Heh heh. I'll remember."

And still he did not forget to explain the necessary parts.

'Kya. A guy with a face like a movie actor, good temperament, and good at the work. The world is unfair.'

I gave a short laugh inwardly, leaned on the forklift pillar, and met the refreshing wind the night air had not yet left.

Going around the huge yard with a local colleague this sound and cheerful, everything began to excite from deep in the chest.

'Did I miss a site flying exhaust this much?'

A truly funny thing.

A rough, dangerous, iron-smelling site I had worked sick of all my life, and I miss it and am glad...

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