Free Cassie by Barry Jonsberg

workload and timetable. Greg Adams had been happy to agree. But he suggested that on a few occasions during the week, usually when students were doing practical subjects like sports or home economics, Cassie would benefit from one-on-one tuition.
    Greg wheeled Cassie into a computer lab. They had it to themselves. He positioned her at a series of desks in the centre of the room, away from the monitors lining the walls, and put on the wheelchair’s brakes. Then he sat opposite.
    â€˜Cass,’ he said. ‘I rang your school in Darwin, just to get a bit more information about the learning programs you’ve been on. They send their love, by the way.’
    Images – faces, places – flashed before Cassie’s eyes. They made her wince. Greg tilted his head at her expression.
    â€˜What do you say we ring them next week?’ he said. ‘You could have a chat, catch up.’
    Sounds bubbled in her throat and her right arm moved in a sawing motion across the arm rest of the wheelchair, but Cassie’s reply was in her eyes.
    â€˜Good. We’ll do that, then. Now for work. Your school told me you have some experience with smart navigation software. Is that right? Okay. But you had difficulty with it. What I suggest, Cass, is that we try again. I have the latest equipment – which you can borrow so you can practise at home – and I’ve designed some software to go with it. Do you want to give it a go?’
    He nodded again.
    Greg brushed back his long, thinning hair and wheeled Cass to a computer terminal, applying the brake once more when she was squared in front of the monitor. Then he opened a briefcase and took out a laptop computer and a small device that looked like a webcam on short tripod legs.
    â€˜This is yours to borrow, Cass,’ he said, pointing to the laptop. ‘I’ve installed the software, which is also on this machine in front of you. I’ll just plug in the sensor and we’ll take it from there.’
    He placed the camera-like object on top of the monitor and then knelt to insert a cable into a USB port on the tower. His knees cracked and Greg winced.
    â€˜I’m getting old, Cass,’ he said. ‘I used to run five k a day. Now, when I squat, my joints go off like firecrackers.’
    They waited while the computer registered the new hardware. Then he used the mouse to open a couple of programs.
    â€˜You will be familiar with some of this, Cass,’ he said. ‘But there’s some learning to do. Mainly, my software. Of which I am incredibly proud, by the way. So if you have difficulty with it, it’s all your fault, okay?’
    Cassie smiled and her head rolled from side to side.
    â€˜As long as we understand each other,’ said Greg. ‘What we have here,’ he continued, ‘is a smart navigation device that operates the computer without a mouse. This will take time to master. There’s also an onscreen keyboard facility linked to a Realtalk program. It converts text into speech. Now, in the past, such programs were . . . well, lousy if you want the plain truth. But there have been huge improvements recently. We can choose a voice you like the sound of, one that matches as nearly as possible your own internal voice, and the computer will speak what you write – with emphasis and intonation. You’ll be amazed at how realistic it is.’
    He opened more windows on the screen.
    â€˜But we don’t want to get ahead of ourselves. Today we’ll stick to brushing up your mouse skills. Now I’m told your head is where you have most control. Is that right? You can’t move your head to tell me, by the way.’ He grinned. ‘Just kidding.’
    Greg took a thin plastic sheet from his briefcase. The sheet was covered in grey dots of varying sizes. He peeled one off and, bending down, stuck it firmly to Cassie’s forehead, directly above her nose. There was a loud crack from his knees