seven an analysis
seven short stories from downtown auckland part two the man the intern the tourist the sitter the boss the cleaner the driver
the proposal
the man part two
He lay, listless, on the pavement. He turned in his worn blanket, in an attempt to reclaim the sleep that had escaped him during the night. Succumbing to the morning light he listened to the sounds of the waking city – the hum of the idling cabs, the birds arriving in the square, the rattle and warmth of the nearby vent and the opening and closing of doors. As he lay there he heard heavy footsteps approach. Pulling back his blanket, he saw two young men looming over him. Dressed in vests and hardhats, they politely asked him to move on. He nodded his head and hauled his tired body off the ground. He gathered up his few possessions and shuffled to the corner of the block. He watched as the two young men disappeared behind the glass façade of the tower. With a curious mind he followed. There in the square he saw them. He figured there must have been twenty of them, most in vests and hard hats, although one man in a shirt and tie was attempting to organize the men. He watched from a distance as they shifted materials and machinery from the trucks that lined Quay Street to the square before the mall. The men worked in small groups and soon enough they had erected a wooden partition wall across the mall frontage.
When he was younger he had had a job working for a construction company. It had been his first job after leaving school. A friend of his fathers had given him the job and he enjoyed the work, and enjoyed being outside. He had been a distracted student but at work he had excelled and it had given him a sense of accomplishment – a feeling that had been new to him, but a feeling he had
4
been unable to cling onto. A lot of time had passed since then but he wondered how things would have been if he’d been able to hold onto that first job.
He sat on the steps of the old post office watching the site across the road. He watched the walls of the mall come down till he could no longer see the building behind the wall. During his time in downtown he had seen many buildings come down, only to be replaced by newer, shinier ones. He dreaded the new building that would replace the mall for he knew that everything new and loved was guarded from undesirables. Getting up off the stairs he moved away from downtown.
5
the intern part two
Passing the rows of desks, she retreated into her office, closing her door to silence the morning office chatter. She hung her parka and placed her bag beneath her desk. Standing in the small room, she sipped at her coffee and stared out onto the morning scene in the square. She noticed that, like a drawn curtain, the new partition wall across the square had caught the interest of the commuters and workers. She examined them picking up their heels and lifting their chins to get a better view of the hidden mall. It had not been given much notice before but she had noticed when it closed its doors for the last time the week before. She had watched as the workers filed out at closing, some lingering in the square awhile, talking and smoking in small clusters. She had wondered where they would go from there. Now as she looked down on the abandoned site, she saw the construction workers lingering around the periphery seemingly awaiting instruction. Sitting down at her desk she saw herself in the blank screen of the computer. Sighing, she turned the machine on and began her day.
It was a morning of dull emails and even duller reports. Needing a break from the monotony, she left her office for the kitchenette. She leaned against the bench, as she stirred the milk and sugar into her coffee. A group of older women sat at the small round table, discussing their agreed grievance with the noise of the demolition. Leaving them, she moved back to her office and
8
watched as the wrecking ball blew into the concrete façade of the old mall. Cascading down in a hundred fragments, the debris raised a cloud of dust over the site. She thought it curious that something that had required such thought and care to build could be destroyed so quickly and absolutely.
At midday, silence fell on the site. The men had left for lunch and the reprieve from demolition had allowed the dust to settle, exposing the broken form of the building. A few colleagues knocked at her door inviting her out for lunch but she had bought a sandwich before work. She preferred to eat alone anyway. She didn’t enjoy talking about work during her break, and with the topic of work all that she had in common with the two of them, it was a pain best avoided. Instead, she sat at her desk picking at her sandwich. She looked at the crumbled mall; she wondered what it would become. The women at the table had talked of it being replaced by a bigger mall. She hoped not; not if it would become like its predecessor. A part of her hoped the square would be destroyed as well. She felt the need for a place to sit alone awhile, a place that felt connected to the rest of Auckland. A place she could retreat to from work.
9
the tourist part two
It was nearly eleven when she headed downstairs to the concierge. She paid the bill and with her suitcase in hand, headed outside. It was another beautiful day in the city. She was glad for she knew she had a little time to enjoy it before her flight that evening. She had hoped to be out of the hotel earlier but she felt her age had betrayed her - her body slower and weaker during this trip than she had anticipated. As she ambled along Quay Street, she watched the workers, young families and tourists enjoying the waterfront. She was surprised at how quickly the last three weeks had passed. It seemed as though she’d just arrived in Auckland, but, in fact, she’d been able to see a great deal of both the north and south islands. She had written to her brother a few times but was excited to show him photographs of the places they had heard so much of as children.
At the intersection of Queen and Quay, she noticed for the first time a large bronze sculpture of a Maori chieftain standing above the pedestrians, peacefully guarding the land. She felt the rough texture of the bronze against her fingers - an allusion to the texture of a feather cloak, she thought.
Behind the sculpture sat the small glass café. She took a seat at a table beneath the shade of a small pohutukawa tree. A young man emerged from the café to take her order. Soon enough the young man returned placing the cup of coffee before her. She asked him about the sculpture and he replied that he
12
knew little of the artist but that it had been quite controversial when it was installed in downtown. It had originally been situated outside the old post office and he raised his hand to point to the building across the road. She replied that she thought it a marvelous representation. He agreed it was a beautiful sculpture but he felt there was still too little association to the rich history of the place. The café was quiet and the young man seemed in no hurry, so she asked him what he meant. As she drank her coffee she listened to him speak of what he knew about the area - the nineteen iwi who had laid claim to the area, including Ngati Whatua, a large tribe that once controlled much of Northland. He spoke of the reclamation of the land to build a new capital city that soon erased the fishing and pa sites that had once been so vital to the people of the land, who were, themselves, slowly pushed out of the city to Orakei. A loud thud echoed through the square. She asked where it had come from and he replied that the mall behind the office block was being demolished but he didn’t know what it would become once flattened. She replied that it would nice to see something built that engaged with some of the history he spoke of, and although agreeing with her, he did not seem optimistic.
As the café began to fill with workers on their lunch break he returned to his work – his notebook in hand. She looked about the café, noticing the many different ethnicities. She thought how lucky Aucklanders were to live in such a diverse and accepting society. She thought about its relatively young age as a country and its ability to meld its bicultural history into its contemporary. She reflected on her own country’s inability to merge the divisions in its communities. She made her way to the bus, ready to get home to her family.
13
the sitter part two
She moved with easy grace about the apartment, collecting her things into her small case. Closing the clasp of the case, she placed it next to the door. Standing there at the entrance she looked about, trying to recall how the place had been when she had arrived three weeks ago. She quickly plumped the cushions, returned all the books to the shelves and realigned the trinkets. As she sat down on the couch, next to the cat, she felt a little reluctant to leave the apartment. She had become accustomed to it, the quiet of the morning, the warmth of the day, the fading pink light that filled the living room at dusk and even the noise from the streets below no longer bothered her, but, rather,
intrigued her.
She sat reading one of their books as she heard the rattle of the key turning in the lock. She placed the book back on the pile on the coffee table and rose to greet them. They moved through the doors bringing in with them their large suitcases. Their figures and eyes tired and weary, they hugged her. He placed his keys on the table and she her bag before they took a seat in the lounge. They spoke a little of their trip and enquired after the cat before the wife asked if she’d like a cup of tea before she headed home. She agreed and followed her to the kitchen.
The two of them stood there staring out the window to the city below, waiting for the tea to brew. The sitter spotted the construction site across
16
the street; she had wondered what all the commotion had been about this morning as she had tried to sleep. She pointed it out to the woman, adding her wonder as to what it would become. The wife was surprised by the demolition of the mall. She remarked that she did not feel sentimental about it being destroyed but that it had just been there so long it seemed it would never go. She called to her husband who joined them in the small space to see the site over the way. The wife poured out the tea and led them back to the lounge, asking after the sitter’s family and enquiring about her studies. It was the husband who brought up the topic of the mall again; she could tell he had been quietly mulling it over. As he talked, it was obvious that he was resigned to the idea that it would become another office tower that would pay no respect to New Zealand architectural history and especially not the historic architecture that surrounded the block– the old post office, the Dilworth building, customs house, the ferry building and even their own Endeans building. He spoke of the importance of the heritage in downtown especially because so much had already been lost, that to disguise the rest in a sea of sky of skyscrapers would be shameful. His wife apologized for him becoming so carried away but the sitter agreed. She replied that in the small amount of time she had spent in the apartment she had become enamoured with its character, and to see others like it overshadowed by towers, although perhaps a necessity in a growing city, seemed a pity.
Her cup was nearly empty and so she thanked them and made her way to the door. Taking her case, she said goodbye to the couple, the cat and the small apartment and made her way home.
17
the boss part two
He had been in his office when he heard the first wrecking ball break into the concrete building below. He had stopped what he was doing to listen carefully, unsure of what had happened till it happened again. The process of demolishing the mall took the better part of the day. The men must have finished for the day at five but it wasn’t until quarter past that he realized the noise had stopped. The sound of the site was temporarily replaced by the sound of his employees packing up their things and leaving for the day; but at six all was quiet in the office.
He knew he’d be awhile longer sorting through his work. He called his wife. She knew from his call he’d be there late. It had been weeks since he’d had dinner with his family. He could tell she was worried. She had stopped asking him about work a couple of weeks before; he hadn’t been able to give her the response she wanted.
The problem had started three weeks ago when the report had come back to him. The partners had worked hard for two weeks to successfully resolve the issues it had raised. He was tentative about the solution though, and he had been working over-time to make sure it wouldn’t happen again, and of course all his other work had been delayed too long already and needed attention.
20
At seven thirty, he took a break from his work to grab some dinner. He took the lift down to the foyer. Leaving the building he looked at the demolition site to his right. In the light of other buildings he could see the rough edges of the shattered building just above the partition wall. The plaza was usually quiet at night but he had never seen it look so forlorn. He realized, looking at the site, that he knew very little about what would happen once the area had been cleared. He knew that there was just one property developer across the whole block now, which he saw as a good sign. His partner had informed him that the developers were planning to build in conjunction with the Council’s new underground railway. Looking at the site he assumed another tower would be built on the land. It was the logical thing to do. The land, he presumed, was incredibly valuable and would need to be used wisely to ensure the best return. A tower with a view of the harbor would be the simplest way to achieve that. He realized the potential changes that a new office tower could make on Auckland’s small business district. More competition he believed was a not necessarily a bad thing. It had the potential to bring in more international business. If the council was going to be involved he knew they would incorporate some of their shared space techniques which he had seen change the productivity of the Fort Street area.
Looking up towards his own office he saw no other lights on. He realized that though there was work to be done he’d rather be at home having dinner with his family, so, leaving the square, he made his way up to his office, grabbed his briefcase and turned out the light.
21
the cleaner part two
He held his son’s hand as they disembarked the bus in downtown. He noticed the new construction site next to the office tower he cleaned and so did his son. Tugging at his jacket, his son begged for a better view of the trucks and cranes he imagined behind the wall. He had to tell his son it was too dangerous. He hadn’t been over the moon about his son accompanying him to work that night, but his wife and daughter were unwell and his wife did not have the energy to look after him as well. He dreaded his boss finding out and knew it was not the best place for a child at night but they had no family to look after him so there he was, sitting next to him on the bench outside the tower. They sat there awhile waiting for all the workers to clear out before heading inside. They moved across the foyer to the cleaning supplies room where he hung up his fleece jacket and backpack. They headed over to the elevators and, letting his son push the button, they ascended to the fourteenth floor. As the doors opened to the top floor, he watched his son run to the glass walls, putting his forehead against the glass to see the ground below. He shouted to his father that the people were so small they looked like the bugs in his mum’s garden.
He began his work while his son ran up and down the aisles of desks before eventually tiring himself out. He set him up at a desk with the paper and pens from his backpack; he left him to draw while he continued to work around him. It kept him occupied for a couple of floors. As they reached the eighth floor he made himself a tea and heated up some milk for his son. They sat in the small
24
kitchenette and he called his wife. He thought she sounded a little worse than she had this afternoon, which worried him, but she told him she would be fine. He held the phone to his son’s ear so he could say goodnight to his mum and his sister.
At nine he could see his sons eyes getting heavy so he lay him down on a couch in the small foyer of one of the floors. He continued with his work, trying to finish each floor as quickly as he could. He knew his son needed to be in his own bed at home. As they reached the last floor, the lights of the foyer woke his son. He saw his eyes flicker open as he carried him over to the couch. He saw his son watching him from the couch as he cleaned the stone surfaces of the floor.
Finishing his work, he put away his gear and grabbed his jacket and backpack. Pulling his son’s backpack over his shoulder he lifted him into his arms and carried him out of the building. He said goodnight to the guard and headed to the light of the bus stop. He had a few minutes to wait before the bus arrived. Sitting in the cold fluorescent light of downtown, he turned and looked at the demolished site behind him. He wondered what it would become. He had seen the changes in the city over the last few years. He could see the beauty in what had been built in Britomart but he knew it wasn’t built for him or his family. There was really very little to bring him into the city other than the temporary events the Council allowed. He looked at the abandoned site and hoped that whatever it was to become, it would be something more interesting than another office tower to be cleaned.
25
the driver part two
It had been a quiet night in downtown. He had had a few jobs around the close of business but by seven there seemed to be very few people about. Even his radio had gone silent. He stood with the other drivers. They reassured him that Thursdays were often this quiet. He had just forgotten with time. He called his wife. She was glad to hear from him. She told him about her day while he walked back and forth along the pavement. He told her he would likely be home early with so few people out and about. He said goodnight and leant into the car and put the phone in his glove box. Standing beside his car he saw two men emerge from the small bar on the corner and make their way towards him, both dressed in dark suits, and as they neared him, he asked where they were headed. They replied that they were headed to Ponsonby. He climbed in the car and, starting the meter, he drove down the road and into Queen Street.
He hadn’t made a habit of listening to the conversations of his passengers. He felt it an unnecessary invasion and most of the time, with liquor-loosened lips his passengers talked such nonsense it was better to tune them out. The two men initially sat in silence, but after a minute seemed to resume a conversation they had been having earlier. He heard them speak of the great progress the demolition team had made today. This caught his attention for it was the only thing the drivers had spoken of all evening. He had been surprised when he drove past the mall this afternoon - seeing that so much of it had disappeared in just one day. He figured his passengers must have had an important role
28
in the project for they talked of things he didn’t believe others would know.
One seemed to be preparing the other for a presentation the next week. He was reiterating the points he had in front of him; he listed the landscaped park as a focal point for the development. He spoke of it offering a gathering place for the public and workers of the block while creating a breathing space for the developed city. The design of the garden would focus on developing an extension of the existing axis ways of Britomart and creating a connection to the council’s shared space initiatives in Queen Street and along Quay Street. He made a comment about the success of precedents in Fort Street and Elliot Street in establishing increased productivity to the existing retail spaces. He said the park would offer ample seating - an open performance space as well as room for food trucks and public art commissions.
He began to talk of a mall he described as being partially underground retail space that would link to the Britomart train station. The construction of the retail space below ground they felt was important as it significantly reduced the footprint of the building while connecting with the ground level through a light filled atrium.
Clearing his throat the man started to talk of the last component being the economic backbone of the design: the tower. The tower would be small in form, to not overshadow neighboring buildings or block out the many heritage sites across the area. While taking advantage
29
of the central location and views out to the harbor, the simple tower, he stated, would undoubtedly bring economic return on their investment.
He heard the men arrange a time to meet the following day as he pulled over at the edge of Ponsonby Road. He turned to receive the fare in cash, thanking them and seeing the imagery laid on their laps.
As he headed back to downtown, he passed the wreckage of the mall he trying to imagine how the site would look with all that they planned to do. He was intrigued by the idea of there being a park in the CBD, it was seeing the New Zealand landscape that he had misssed most about his old job. He could see himself in the park, he could see himself enjoying the space they had described.
30
the proposal
32
the park
34
the mall
36
the tower
38