Bandwidth by N S Cooke

Author:N S Cooke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Jim and Salty

Jim lay in bed, alone and awake in his flat, on the Gold Coast, Coolangatta. Tired from the night before, he had slept late after online gaming into the early hours. It was gone 3 a.m. Australian time when he’d finally turned in. He rolled over and looked at the ceiling, not quite ready to make the effort to pull himself from his comfortable bed.

Dappled sunlight through the blinds bathed the room in a soft light. In the other room, he could hear the whir of the Xbox fan. He’d left the machine switched on while he slept, downloading some new game maps – fresh digital worlds to explore with his armed, online comrades. Single, working and male, he lead a 24/7 wired life, with nothing to spend his bucks on except himself and his whims. Totally spoilt.

He yawned and turned on to his side, taking in the time on the alarm clock – 10.31. Head still heavy, he wasn’t motivated to rise yet. Perhaps in a minute, just one more minute. 10.32.

In the corner, leaning against the wall, was his latest pride and joy, an Al Merrick quad fin 6’2’’ surfboard. Now there was his inspiration to break free of this flat mattress – to go out and hunt some curl. Low tide was 11.12 and there was swell – he’d checked the forecast last night. Nothing like a morning session at Superbanks to get the heart pumping again!

All right, I’m getting up. He looked at the clock –10.33. OK, 10.34, just another thirty seconds, then I’ll move. I promise.

He closed his eyes for a moment … just a moment.

He opened them again – 11.01. Bugger. He’d nodded off again. Right, I’m getting up! But the little voice inside his head told him to close his eyes and get another hour in bed. After all, he wasn’t getting any younger. He didn’t listen. I’ll miss the tide. He looked at his beautiful new board. Sometimes you just gotta push yourself and you’ll feel better, he told himself. Besides, he’d just paid five hundred bucks for the board the other day, and hadn’t so much as made a bottom turn on it. That thought was enough to tear him from his sheets. He was up and slipping his feet into Reef thongs and pulling on a pair of board shorts.

The digital weather station behind his PC in the lounge showed 30 degrees Celsius. Outside, it was a beautiful Gold Coast day, not a cloud in sight to ruin a perfect blue sky. The waves across the street from his apartment were calling him, screaming his name – a perfect blank canvas of surf going unridden, and his Al Merrick would draw the perfect lines. He could hear the waves breaking, unloading their force with each set.

Jim went through to the kitchen, poured a glass of OJ, and shoved some bread into the toaster for some quick brekkie. In his open-plan apartment he could see through to the computer and the Xbox.

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