Barry's Perpetual Power Pack

“Can you see what it is yet, mate?”

“Enlighten me, please.”

“It’s renewable energy, mate.”

“It’s a photograph of a windmill and a solar panel.”

“Nah yeh. But hooked up to a power cell.”

“That looks like a car battery.”

“Yeh. Well, it’s just a prototype.”

“And you propose that this contraption be awarded a development grant over my more sophisticated research?”

“Too right, mate.”

“But this gadget looks like it was bought on AliExpress.”

“I got it on eBay with free shipping and three-day delivery. I’m developing it into what I call Barry’s Perpetual Power Pack.”

“What do you define as perpetual power?”

“It’s when you have power that don’t run out, mate. That’s why it’s called, perpetual.”

“My good man. There’s no such thing. Even nuclear power runs out eventually.”

“But mine is ninety-nine percent perpetual.”

“That’s an oxymoron.”

“Did you just throw shade at me, mate?”

“What on Earth did you just ask me?”

“Throw shade. It’s when you try to insult someone. Like calling them an oxymoron.”

“No, my dear fellow. An oxymoron is when you say something that contradicts itself, like old news, or deafening silence, or organised chaos.”

“I reckon this office of grants administration is a bit like that. An oxymoron.”

“How so?”

“Complete organised chaos. Look at ‘em all runnin’ around filing things, like chooks with their heads cut off.”

“It’s grant season. Everyone and their mate is applying for funding.”

“Yeh nah. But I’ve already applied online, so they must have called me in to see what all the fuss is about Barry’s Perpetual Power Pack.”

“Well, I did notice earlier that your contraption is leaking battery acid all over the floor in the presentation room.”

“I reckon I overcharged it a bit in the back of the Ute on the way here. Forgot to cover it.”

“In that photo on your phone, why does it look like there is half a bicycle attached to it?”

“Mate, that’s the missing one percent.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, the wind generator..”

“Wind generator? How does one generate wind?”

“Well, back at the sheep station, you just need to eat a plate of Muriel’s Outback Baked Beans, mate. Dee-lish! But they come with a bit of a blowback – if you know what I mean.”

“Muriel?”

“She’s the station cook.”

“You live on a..”

“In the Outback, mate. Middle of nowhere.”

“My goodness! I understand that place to be hot, arid, and dry.”

“Dry as a dead dingo’s donger in the summer. Not much change in the winter, ‘cept most of the flies go on a walkabout.”

“Is that what the corks dangling from hats are for that I see selling at the airport? To discourage the flies?”

“Yeh nah. Them’s what we sell to the tourists that come and visit on working holidays. Wine corks just attract the vinegar flies.”

“What are vinegar flies?”

“Ha! Just acting the galah with ya, mate. Mozzie Masks are the preferred accessory.”

“What are Mozzie Masks?”

“They’re what I call a bit of netting over yer head and face, mate – draped over yer hat. Designed for mozzies but work just as well for flies. Say goodbye to the Aussie Wave.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, mate.”

“No, I’m referring to the term, Aussie Wave.”

“The flies, mate. They love yer face, so you’re constantly having to wave yer hand to brush ‘em away. It looks like yer waving to someone far off. Wanna hear a funny story?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, these tourists drove past me one day - while I was out mending the rabbit-proof fence after something or some dipstick had knocked part of it down. It was in the days when you’d get teased for wearing face protection and called a Sheila, so I was constantly brushing flies away from me face. They were everywhere. You’d think I’d just eaten camel shit with the amount of attention I was getting. Anyways, this car full of squeaky beaks were starin’ at me waving like a larrikin – looking like I was having a fit. So, they pulled over to the side of the dirt road and this fella jumps out, declares himself a Polish paramedic, then pins me to the ground – all the while saying don’t worry, it will pass. He was shouting so loud, a big blowie shoots straight down his open gob and gets trapped just above his windpipe, choking him. Well, one big slap to his back later, and I dislodged that fat fucker from his throat. He was so grateful that him and his wife, his old mum, and his kids spent the rest of the arvo fixing the fence for me - before continuing on with their journey.”

“Fascinating snippet of unrelated waffle.”

“My point, mate, is that in the middle of all that palaver, it gave me the idea for my Perpetual Power Pack.”

“Frankly, I don’t see the correlation. What common denominator gave you the inspiration from mending a fence?”

“Just life, mate. That’s how my mind works. It’s like I’ll be sitting on the dunny thinking about putting some fly screen around the open window, when suddenly, bang! I’ll get an idea.”

“Of what?”

“Of anything, mate. How to turn Jumbuck’s wool into candle wicks, or what would an automated sheep dip look like with robots. I just get these ideas, then I apply for a grant to help me develop the concept.”

“Extraordinary! How many grants have you received?”

“When?”

“To date.”

“None, mate.”

“So, what makes you think you will get a grant now?”

“Well, they’ve called me in to demo my proposal this time, haven’t they? I reckon if you’ve been called in too, then you’ve got a fair dinkum chance in getting your grant approved, as well.”

“You do realise why we’re both here, don’t you?”

“To pick up our awards, I reckon.”

“No, we’re both applying for the same grant.”

“What a coincidence.”

“You’re not understanding what I’m saying.”

“Yeh nah. Keep going and I’ll eventually get the gist, mate.”

“There is only one award.”

“Bonzer, mate!”

“And it appears that there are two finalists vying for that award.”

“Another coincidence! Who’s the other?”

“We, are competing against each other for that award.”

“Corker!”

“You’re not concerned about that?”

“Yeh nah mate. I’m a shoe-in. You’ll just have to try again next year, I suppose.”

“Right. Well, all I’ve seen so far of your application is a hole burned into the carpet. What does your device actually do?”

“I’ve prepared a demonstration speech. Wanna hear it?”

“Is it long?”

“A piece of string, mate.”

“I give up. Please, be my guest. Pretend that I’m the adjudicator.”

“Bonzer, mate. Here goes… Fabulous secret powers were revealed to me the day I held aloft my magic sword and said, By the power of Grayskull!”

“Stop there for a moment! I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s from He-Man and the Masters of the universe, mate.”

“You’re paraphrasing a cartoon character’s dialogue?”

“Yeh mate. It’s the build-up to my tagline.”

“What tagline?”

“I HAVE THE PERPETUAL POWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

“That’s just plagiarising the cartoon and adding the word, perpetual.”

“Nah, mate. It’s quoting the cartoon with an added qualifier to enhance its meaning.”

“You do realise that a qualifier can also limit the meaning.”

“That’s why I’ll keep this short.”

“I am curious as to how you’re going to sell this duplication of existing technologies without running foul of the copyright laws, so please go on.”

“Right-O. I’ve just said the tagline, then I continue with, Man has harnessed the wind and the sun to generate electricity. But…”

“…But what? Have you forgotten your dialogue?”

“Yeh nah. I’m pausing for dramatic effect to tweak their curiosity.”

“Don’t take too long. You don’t want your audience to tweak themselves elsewhere now, do you?”

“They can do that, mate?”

“Not in physical form, no.”

“Okay. Continuing on, where was I? Oh, yeh.… Harnessed the wind and the sun to generate electricity.

I’ll count to three there, then continue… One, two.”

“Look, for time’s sake and my own precious sanity, why don’t you dispense with the over-dramatics and just give me the Cliff Notes version.”

“Who’s Cliff Notes – when he’s at home, mate?”

“Consider him a person of few words and excellent summarisation. Someone that gets directly to the point.”

“Nah yeh. No drama, mate.”

“Precisely. Eliminate the drama.”

“Cliff Noting. Here goes, then…

We can generate electricity with wind and solar. We can store that power in batteries to use when there’s no wind and no sun. But what if we all wake up one day and there’s no sun, no wind, and all the batteries are dead? That’s where Barry‘s Perpetual Power Pack comes in.

That’s where I reveal the pedal system, mate.

Back at Barry’s Sheep Shearing Station, we are frequently without power due to weather conditions, lack of paying the electricity bill, or some drunk Whacka driving into an old wooden stobie pole not yet modernised. Introducing Barry – our recently retired founder of the sheep station. We wake him up from his countless naps, pop him onto the saddle and let him peddle away - converting motion into energy.

Every once in a while, we bring him a mug of tea – or, if it’s after hours, an ice-cold stubbie of his favourite brew and he’s like the Energiser Bunny who just keeps going.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries, mate.”

“What if Barry needs to use the facilities?”

“You mean, if he needs to take a piss or a..”

“Spare me the illustrative details.”

“Well, as long as he’s got the batteries at least twenty-five percent charged, he can go take a goonah and a read of the paper whenever he wants.”

“Doesn’t he get tired?”

“What d’ya think all the naps are for, mate?”

“Let me get this straight. Barry is there for when there’s no wind, no sun, and no charge in the batteries.”

“Yeh nah yeh, mate.”

“I’ll take that as a confirmation. So, what happens if Barry’s not available. Like – forgive me for saying this - if he dies?”

“Then, Bruce will take over and we’ll have to rename the system to Bruce’s Perpetual Power Pack.”

“Who is Bruce?”

“His older brother.”

“My point is, what if there are no more Barry’s or Bruce’s to pedal for power?”

“Then, we’re all fucked, mate – unless I have a go, but me knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“So, the system is flawed.”

“Missing one percent, I said.”

“Why would anyone want to fund a flawed system?”

“For the commercial potential of that one percent, mate.”

“Did you just quote Monty Python?”

“Yeh nah, mate. Their quote was about flying sheep. My sheep don’t fly.”

“I have to admit, that you are the most frustrating individual I have ever conversed with.”

“That’s what Barry said before he sold me his sheep station.”

“What was his reason?”

“Because I wouldn’t name my offer of purchase.”

“So, how did you settle?”

“We shook hands on it, mate.”

“Without naming a price?”

“Yeh nah, mate. The price was on the real estate website.”

“You didn’t want to negotiate?”

“Let me ask you a question, Mr…erm..”

“Evans, Gwynne Evans.”

“Well, Gwynne. Suppose you work all your life out in the back of Bourke, where drought, heat, and insects test your everyday resolve. Then, you get to a point where it’s time to hang up your shearing scissors for a quiet life - looking forward to enjoying the fruits of your lifetime labours. Would you want some young and ambitious Surfie fresh from the beach haggling you, devaluing your life’s work?”

“Well, since you put it that way. I suppose not.”

“Take it from me, Gwynne, that Luke Minjara says that life is not for sale.”

“That’s very profound… Luke.”

“Yeh nah. Well, it turns out that Barry’s life was for sale, so I bought it and him in a package deal – on the agreement that if he taught me everything he knew about sheep shearing, I’d let him live at the station for as long as he wanted to.”

“Didn’t he want to move to a retirement village or somewhere new?”

“What, to live next to old people waiting to die? Nah, he still wanted the open air Outback way of life without the responsibility. So, he got his wish.”

“And you? No more surfing?”

“Only on the Internet, Gwynne. That’s how I became aware of this grant, mate.”

“Luke, please let me offer this observation purely from an objective viewpoint. Perpetual power will be a tough sell to the purse holders of academic grants. Sorry, you do realise that grants are an academia award, yes? For instance, I’m a professor in the field of the future of anodes in varying materials, such as carbon, silicon, pure lithium metal, etc. Do you hold any honours?”

“Our nearest town is sixty kilometres away, Gwynne, and in the only pub hotel there, my name is still at the top of the Pétanque leaderboard for highest points in a single turn.”

“Sixty kilometres? How often do you play?”

“About once a year, mate.”

“Okay, we digress once more. What I’m really trying to extract from you is the answer to, do you have any academic honours?”

“Got an online learning Masters degree in Biochemistry from Oxford Online – if that counts for anything. I’m no drongo, mate.”

“I see. In that case, I must admit that I’m pleasantly surprised, Luke. That is indeed very impressive. But if I may, how does that relate to your perpetual power system?”

“One word, mate. Nano technology – or is that two words? Is there a hyphen in there somewhere?”

“It’s one word. But how does it relate?”

“In layman’s terms, Gwynne, it utilises tiny microbial cells of carbon-based energy. So, I can have millions of tiny Barrys at my disposal - all pedalling their bums off when no other source of motion is available.”

“Fascinating. How astute of this institution to bring us both in at the same time. I’m beginning to see why they’ve kept us waiting here together.”

“Any longer and old Barry is gonna need another nap.”

“Barry is here?”

“In the dunny – preening himself.”

“Or maybe they are just totalling up what the cost of your research would require in comparison to mine. By my estimate, your system would require vast sums of financial resources. Whereas mine would take only a fraction of yours – albeit, not as impactful in its results, but nevertheless, affordable, consistent, and reportable on a scheduled basis.”

“Too right, mate. You defo win the low overheads contest.”

“Then, based on that acknowledgement, what makes you so sure of winning this grant?”

“Too easy, mate! My cousin is chairman of the board of trustees.”

“Oh, I didn’t factor in the nepotism component. I always miscalculate the power of who you know.”

“In my case, Gwynne, it’s the perpetual power of who I know.”

“Yes, quite so. With that cold hard truth staring me in the face, I willingly submit to defeat and offer a change of strategy – if you would kindly hear me out and give me a - what in your vernacular I believe is coined, a Fair Go?”

“Spoken like a True Blue, Gwynne. Go on, then. She’ll be right.”

“Ripper, Luke. Simply ripper.”

“Keep talking like me, Gwynne and I’ll ask Barry to let you have a go on the Perpetual power pack peddler.”

“Yes, I’d like that. But first, did you know that in grant funding, there is a greater potential for awards when one collaborates on research and development?”

“Makes sense, mate. I reckon more heads means more progress.”

“Exactly! My knowledge and exploration of anodes combined with your familiarity of nanotechnology and renewable energy, could be a very productive partnership. Would you want to entertain such an idea, Luke?”

“Nah yeh, erm, maybe. It might just work – given the exposure to the elements that the Outback provides. So, to be clear, Gwynne. What are you asking?”

“…Well, mate! Where does one purchase a Mozzie Mask without the corks…?”