The setting is a small city in New Zealand. The hero has an odd name, the reason for which is explained as it his less than a smooth journey into adulthood. Dio falls into an usual occupation that connects him to an assortment of offbeat characters and soon it becomes apparent that Dio is enjoying a life richer in many ways than most people around him. It appears that when he's between girlfriends two married females from schooldays are available to handle his needs whenever it suits. Dio is between girlfriends when he meets a damsel in distress on the roadside, with a puncture to her mom's car. Dio helps out and the twenty year old Carra invites him to accompany her to a function. They forget to exchange addresses but smart Carra wakes up during the night and the image of his email address on the side of his ute comes to mind; so she emails Dio
.
*
Dio Wellington, self-employed under the business name of Mr Computer Cleaner was delirious that the young woman from last night had miraculously come into possession of his address and has emailed him. Pleased at her initiative he looked at her name on the email: Carra with a C, not a K, and two R's; he must remember that. He wondered if she really thought that he, ten plus years older that she, was likeable. He thought she was – totally, and a very bright girl!
Dio left on his first call, loudly humming 'You Are So Beautiful' well knowing why that song had jumped into his mind.
Fiona Stokes, 3 Brightside Apartments, 13 Smith Road
It was a ground floor apartment so Dio knocked on the door that opened to a small patio.
"Enter the passage through the foyer, you fool," called a woman. "And stand in front of the video camera so I get a clear view of you before letting you in."
Oh, the charming Miss or Mrs Stokes, waking up with a sore head after hitting the gin bottle last night. Well, grumpy Miss/Mrs Stokes can Dr Helpdesk remove your spleen while removing filth from your computer, you temperamental lady.
Walking to the foyer Dio wondered why all of his calls were from people of European origins. Where were the Indians, Turks, Pacific Islanders, Laplanders, Maoris and Egyptians with filth-on-my-computer problems? Perhaps it was a culturally sensitive issue, with Indians requiring an Indian Helpdesk man, and Laplanders requiring a Helpdesk man who made house calls by sled and Islanders would only want a tribally-acceptable technician to call. Either that or else they were not into filth, but wasn't filth endemic in the culture of some people of Indian, Turkish, English or Egyptian origin?
Perhaps the answer was that pretty pornographic images were just that – pretty images, and appealed to some minorities of every race.
Wow, he thought; what inspirational thinking, standing in front of the high-mounted camera, waiting to be beamed up.
"Who are you?"
"Dio from Helpdesk; you called me."
"I did. Dio's a funny name."
"My mom would have bopped you one for saying that."
"Cheeky bugger, aren't you; confirms you are who you say you are; rapists have no humor."
"I wouldn't guarantee that's a correct assumption."
"Do you want to come in or not?"
"Please yourself."
"My, you really are a cheeky bugger. As Clint Eastwood says, 'Make my day'."
A buzzer sounded and the door opened.
"I'm up here in the lounge which is my bedroom."
She wasn't really old, about forty-five but there was an empty gin bottle beside her and she told him to call her Fiona.
"Been in a bit of trouble?" he asked kindly.
"Yeah, had a hip done last year and the other a while ago. The first replacement went brilliantly but this one's turned to shit, and now I have back problems as well, so currently I spend most of the day in bed and go to the bathroom on this chariot," she said, patting a very basic looking wheelchair beside her bed.
"That's bad luck."
"Perhaps it is, but I gave my body a pounding when I was young and now am paying for it." She waved her hand at one of the walls.
Dio looked at the multitude of photographs. This woman appeared to have done everything – a child ballerina, a gymnast as a teenager, a hurdler as a young woman and then she diversified into mountaineering, riding with the hunt and show jumping. Ribbons were pinned to the wall and the glass cabinet below was filled with cups and silver mugs and trays.
"I went hell-for-leather at everything, and tried to do my very best," she said. "In the process I even wore out two husbands, making the mistake each time of marrying older men as they were the ones with the money. Nowadays, of course, many young women are really wealthy from their own endeavors. Anyway, you are not here to learn my life story."
"Bed is not a choice place for someone with your background," said Dio, wanting to display sympathy.
"Listen, if you're going to feel sorry for me, piss off now and take your money."
"What's the problem on your computer Fiona?"
"Well, this may be a bit embarrassing for you but not me. My second husband was French, in love with his own body. So we used to photograph and film his very good physique for a man of his age, and then the cameras later turned on me and eventually we got into recording ourselves having sex together; you know, like big kids."
Dio didn't understand that last comment except that she may have meant they indulged in immature behavior.
"Many people say if you've got it, flaunt it," he said helpfully.
"Yeah, I thought so too. But now I want all of this stuff off the big box because I want to trade it in for a laptop. I was slightly famous, you know as I competed at two Commonwealth Games so imagine what the Sunday papers would do if some of these images got into their hands! My parents are still alive – mum was high up in church work, so imagine her embarrassment!"
"Right, I suggest we put everything you want onto CDs and then I totally clean your computer including all hard drives."
"Sounds good to me."
Dio placed his clean-up disk into the CD drive and selecting a number of tools to load. "I'm ready; tell me where to find the so-called filth. I'd like to have a look at some of the still images or if you wish I can totally delete them sight unseen."
"Why would you want to look? I am not very developed in the breasts department."
"I suspect that in your younger days you had a beautiful body, and what you said about your late husband he must have been in rather good shape if he admired himself."
"Well, better than average I do declare, but self-adoration is a bit like a disease, you know – a mental disease."
"I know, but what's your verdict?"
"Take a gander, but don't be too long about it. And don't salivate down your chin – I'll be watching you."
"An aficionado like me would not do such a thing," replied Dio sharply.
