Part One: Summative Imaginative/Discursive/Persuasive Writing (20 Marks)
Compose a piece of imaginative, discursive, or persuasive writing that develops One idea from any of the prescribed texts you have studied.
The word limit for this piece is 600-800 words, +/- 10%. It must be submitted to Compass by 9am on the due date.
"Idle hands are the devils playthings"
Floating amongst the stars, complete tranquillity as the silence and peace constituted the empty universe. There was limitless uniform and structured opportunities waiting to be explored throughout this realm. This was the euphoric downtime of Professor Smith. Unconsciously bobbing in his tilted back chair, dreamy and fantasising, contemplating the facets of humanity. However this harmonious state was always disrupted by emphatic noise at each end of the room. Yanking him out of his prayer, and returning him to his chair.
A diabolical roar of psalms from adherents and prosecutors surged outside creating an ambivalent confusion of indistinct chants. The omniscient crowd surveyed and scrutinized his character from the semi blurred glass wall behind him. The glass was filled with his deep calculations, meaningless to the mob, a lost language.
At the other end, a standard clear varnished double wooden door dominated the theatre from the heights of the empty pews. A boisterous orchestra of cynical conversations always seemed to eek through this door, it was labelled section 666.
Prof. Smith was centred at a grand wooden desk which was directly below a large dome structured skylight, foremost to his once again unoccupied lecture theatre. He sat engulfed by an angled horseshoe arrangement of empty wooden pews covered in musky green leather.
A holy orange flame trickled down from the clear cylindrical skylight above and entered Prof. Smiths' body, purifying his soul.
He then gathered his attention to a thin, sharply cornered, musty yellow document centred in front of him. It read, 'Classified'. He had a collection of similar files at the far edge of his vast desk, bursting with withered sheets of deep mathematical equations and technological breakthroughs. However these documents were incomplete, lacking his final signature.
Prof. Smith always seemed delusional when returning from his trances, pondering the results if he were to release these sacred documents. The world is idling. Neither entranced nor disgusted in my work. Yet interested in its affect on themselves. He was an endling. Without churning out profound exotic designs he would be terminated and thrown amongst the mind numbing mass of humanity, abused by some and admired by others.
A bonsai tree sat motionless towards his right trembling hand on the desk. It slouched in a vibrant throne like red pot. Its trunk twisted and knotted. Its thin leaves an unnatural olive green, far from it's former colourful and symphonic state. It was always there, though throughout the years its fertilisation and hydration became an irregularity. As Prof. Smith constantly tramped around the theatre tending to documents for different sections, he started to slowly forget the bonsai tree. It was stranded. Dwindling in its cold ceramic pot with a restricted ability to grow, suffocating in the stale theatre environment. Its only hope was the golden sunlight provided from the skylight throughout the day. The tree had a judgemental expression as it gazed upon Prof. Smith, yielding for his stewardship. He once loved that tree, only now their relationship required reconciliation.
Prof. Smith opened the familiar yellow document cover and interpreted its contents. Initially he was shocked by the extensive list of overdue document submissions. His large rough hands shuddered as he weakly justified his unpunctuality with the moral and ethical dilemmas to consider before submitting. At the bottom of the blank scripture it again signed, section 666.
He sprung from his chair, fanatically using his strong and rough hands to wield his marker. Forging equations and concepts to scribe yet another testament. Simultaneously the chants sparked up. As the pedestrians peered in, Prof. Smith peered back through the glass between his symbols. A fission of curiosity and fear caused the horde to intensify and Prof. Smith to write faster, in a desperate attempt to fill in the glass wall and shade himself.
He suddenly realised the only way to escape was to return to the stars, look upon the wonders of the universe. He stopped in his tracks. His marker slowly escaping his hand as he floated up into the stars. He was entranced, the beauty and calmness numbed the roar of the crowd.
His peace was ruined when a deafening lightning bolt crack dispersed across the sky. Accept this time as his wistful eyes returned to his equations, they were backwards. A beautiful wisp of air flustered his nose as hands surrounded him. All around him people were banging on the glass, yet unable to see him. Yelling old scripture references he hadn't heard in years.
He took a step back and observed the backwards mathematical symbols and equations. Only to realise they weren't backwards. It was Bellsybabble. He looked around in a frantic attempt to escape again. Yet the crowd roared and as he peered through the devils language that filled the glass he noticed a dying bonsai tree, his bonsai tree.
Never idle, yet I've done the work of the devil.
Access Denied
"Access denied," the genial robotic female voice sang.
Anna held her wrist to the scanner a second time.
“Access denied.”
This was a shock. She had been living in gleaming Sanctuary Towers for three months now and it had been perfect. The day The State granted her access to the glass-fronted studio on the third floor felt like the ultimate prize for thirty years of dedicated compliance. As she ran her fingers over the plush beige sofa in the loungeroom and the cool, sleek marble benchtops, her excitement grew. The comforting scent of disinfectant mingled in the air with Anna’s favourite perfume and the aroma of newly lacquered furniture. It smelt divine! She was home.
The virus was essentially non-existent in this LGA. In this coveted apartment building, Anna had never known of any breach whatsoever. She had rarely even seen another inhabitant apart from the odd glimpse of a fellow citizen who, seeing her, stepped back into their lift or apartment until she passed through, as modern etiquette dictated. She, too, had been careful to evaluate the correct “right of passage” of her fellow inhabitants to ensure that nobody unnecessarily crossed paths and endangered them all. While she had never met them, there was a feeling of affinity and respect for their community-mindedness that mirrored her own.
It seemed impossible that those systems that had provided her with such comfort and safety could turn against her when she had been so vigilant to comply with them.
In the past, Anna had been a regular contributor to the Neighbourhood Watch, a volunteer group who met and made patrols of the local area to ensure compliance among the community. However, it had felt inappropriate being in the same room as the other members when The Guidelines required social distancing at all times and forbade such gatherings. When she mentioned these breaches in her daily report, the group meetings changed to virtual instead.
But now here she stood, locked out of her happiness. She knew that knocking on another tenant’s door would instantly trigger a lockdown alarm, so she stepped into the mirror-walled lift and journeyed down to the lobby to investigate the matter.
Anna pressed the button on the Service Screen and waited for a response. A friendly, female AI generated face filled the screen.
“Can I help you, citizen?” To her disappointment, it was the same voice from her apartment.
“Good afternoon. I cannot seem to access my apartment. I am Anna Franklin from apartment 3D. There seems to be a problem with my chip.”
A red beam of light danced across Anna’s features followed by the words “One moment please…” flashing onto the screen. What could be taking so long? Facial recognition was not new technology. It should be instantaneous. Something’s not right, nagged a little voice while she waited patiently for her issue to be corrected.
“Hello Anna, my apology for the delay,” the voice returned. “Your position in Sanctuary Towers has expired and your access has been removed. You are welcome to lodge an appeal to this decision within 24 hours of this notice. We apologise for any inconvenience. Please follow the white line to the main entrance.” The words “Enjoy your day!” with a smiling emoji filled the screen.
Two shiny robots appeared from a sliding panel in the wall. They politely escorted Anna out of the building and into the street.
Justification
The aim of my piece, “Access Denied”, was to explore my protagonist, Anna’s, strong connection to her apartment building as a reward for her compliance to an authority in a dystopian world and her subsequent alienation from it as a result of the failings of a society relying on technology at the expense of genuine human connection. I was influenced by Ray Bradbury’s short story, The Pedestrian, and his use of dialogue to evoke the relationship between humans and technology in the text and visual imagery to delineate the theme of isolation in a dystopic world.
Firstly, Bradbury uses visual imagery to convey his protagonist’s isolation in the dystopic world of A.D. 2053. For example, “To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight o’clock of a misty evening”, uses the metaphor of “the silence” to convey the lack of human activity in this world. Similarly, my description of the “gleaming Sanctuary Tower” as being a “glass-fronted studio” was intended to convey my protagonist’s removal from society in a glass tower where “she had rarely even seen another inhabitant”. This is further emphasised by the description of the etiquette associated with staying indoors until other tenants of the building passed by to ensure safety but preventing interaction or connection. Therefore, isolation is conveyed through imagery in both texts.
Further, Bradbury’s use of dialogue between the police vehicle and Leonard Mead elucidates the lack of empathy and understanding, essentially human traits, of the authority in the world of the text. For example, this dialogue exchange, ‘“Business or profession?”/ “I guess you’d call me a writer.”/ “No profession,” said the police car, as if talking to itself.’ reveals that Leonard Mead’s profession is not considered a legitimate one in this society and the curt, truncated question, “Business or profession?” indicates that the authority’s treatment of its citizens relies upon their conformity to normative practices as defined by them. Similarly, in my story the dialogue between Anna and the AI generated authority of the building is intended to achieve the effect of highlighting the lack of humanity and compassion in a world ruled by technology. For example, while the AI authority is exceedingly polite, “my apology for the delay”, it offers no explanation or comfort to Anna in what is considered a basic right in today’s world, and that is access to one’s home. This is indicated through, “Your position in Sanctuary Towers has expired” followed by the ironic, “We apologise for any inconvenience”, where the words lack any warmth or compassion despite their politeness. Therefore, dialogue is used to delineate a similar relationship between humans and authority in both texts.
Therefore, through my use of visual imagery and dialogue as influenced by Bradbury’s The Pedestrian, I have successfully conveyed my protagonist’s strong connection to her home and the power of the authority in this world to remove rights without explanation due to its lack of humanity.