Last Cab to Darwin Page #2

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Heaven for ya. I'm flying home

for good week after next.

Of course I can, Simon.

But it's just that. Fear.

Can't get away from this sh*t

even if you try.

- Hey!

- You will die.

Surely the big question is not

whether we'll die, but how we die.

Well, let's see if our listeners agree.

Time to take some calls.

1800-500-260.

Are you there, Terry?

And we've got time for just one

more caller. Rex in Broken Hill.

- Hello?

- Hi, Rex.

I left a message on your machine.

You didn't call me back.

- What's your question, Rex?

- Well, I'm crook.

Real crook.

- And I'm not gonna get any better.

- I'm sorry to hear that, Rex.

You're looking for a volunteer,

aren't you? To be first, right?

Rex, I'd need to know

so much more about your situation.

I've got stomach cancer.

They cut out half my gut a while back,

but they didn't get it all, so...

So, what else do you need to know?

Well, you'd need to speak first

with your family.

I haven't got any.

I think the doctor means

those closest to you, Rex.

There's no-one else.

It's just me.

Any time this century?

So do I come to you or do you come to me?

- It's not that simple.

- Well, it's legal now, right?

Well, the Northern Territory

Government has passed the bill.

Well, I guess I'll have to come to you.

Okay. Slow down.

This isn't the right time.

We might have to leave it there anyway,

folks. It's coming up to news time here.

Thanks for your call, Rex.

Thanks, Dr Farmer. It's news time.

Come on.

Come on, mate.

Anything in the papers, Col?

Oh, yeah. There's... You know, there's...

stuff.

- Stuff?

- Yeah. Stuff.

Rex, we heard you. The whole

bloody world must have heard you.

Darwin? What do you think

you're doing, hey?

Who do you think you are?

Joan of f***in' Arc?

It's too bloody weird, mate.

It's not natural.

Boys... I'm dying.

Oh, Jesus, Rex. You are not f***ing dying.

You're sitting here

having a beer with your mates.

My Uncle Jack had cancer

for f***in' years.

Used to dance around the living

room singing. Cancer, cancer...

Hey.

Yeah, well, my grandad

had cancer of the bum.

He said that was okay. He reckoned

Grandma was a bigger pain in the arse.

Everyone gets cancer. F***in' everyone.

You'll be right, Rexie.

We'll look after you here.

Darwin's a long way, mate. A long way.

Give the boys a round, Stella.

On the house.

Hey?

Me ears! Something's happened to me ears!

So, this is what it's like inside?

Not much, is it?

You made it sound special.

- Polly...

- Don't you say a word, Frank Brown!

I know you don't serve blackfellas

in here, do ya?

Well, don't worry.

I'm not asking you to start now.

Is it true?

Want a beer?

Why not?

You packed your mum up.

Are you really gonna do this?

- How are you gonna get there?

- I'm gonna drive.

- It's 3,000 kilometres!

- I do that in the cab every week.

Jesus, Rex. You've never left

Broken Hill in your life!

Yeah. I know.

- What you got here?

- Oh, just some old photos.

Don't think I'm gonna stop being angry

at you just 'cause you put Livvie on.

Worth a try.

Mum tried to get to Darwin once.

Said she'd never seen the sea.

- Did she?

- No.

Got close.

Made it all the way to Daly Waters.

Used to be an air force base

there during the war.

That's where she met Dad.

He was a looker.

Mum thought so too.

So she gave him a little present.

Me.

Anyway, 'cause of that,

she had to go back to Broken Hill.

Dad stayed and built the airfield.

Promised he'd come back to her

when it was all over.

And he did.

Back to a family he didn't know.

To a place he didn't want to be.

Look at 'em. I can't remember

ever seeing them that happy, Pol.

Ever.

How come you never told me that before?

You never asked.

Rex!

Rex!

- Take me with you.

- No.

Listen to me!

I will hold your hand.

- I will clean your mess.

- Oh, you hate mess, Pol!

You told me so a thousand times.

And it doesn't get any messier

than a black woman

holding the hand of a dying whitefella

who can't even wipe his own arse!

We had some fun.

On the sly.

The cab driver

and his gin across the road.

But that's it now. Finished!

Miserable old bastard!

I left some stuff for you inside.

Oh, Rex.

You stupid bastard.

You stupid, stupid, bastard.

Yeah, so... so, when are you thinking?

But that's tomorrow!

Then I'll have to fly back to Sydney.

Oh, look, hang on, would you?

- Dr Farmer.

- Hi, Doc. It's me. Rex.

Rex! I'll call you back.

I have been calling that number

you left me, Rex, but...

I'm about two hours out of Broken Hill.

About to cut across country,

through the Flinders Ranges,

hit the Oodnadatta Track,

then straight up the guts to you.

You're driving?

But, Rex, we haven't even...

- Where do I find you when I get to Darwin?

- Hang on a sec. Sonja!

- Do you have a pen?

- Yep. Hold on.

- It's 238... Bagot Road.

- Yeah. Bagot Road.

- Casuarina.

- Casuarina.

You're really driving, Rex?

Yeah. Should see you

in four or five days, I reckon.

Wait, Rex. Could you please call me?

Just let me know

where you are and... and, Rex?

- Keep your fluids up.

- Right.

Jesus.

Call that bloke from The Territorian.

I think we might finally have

a story for him.

Keep your fluids up.

It's Aussie-made, recyclable, weatherproof

and guaranteed for five years.

Log on now for a special offer

at easyline.com.au.

Welcome back. We're having a chat with

right-to-die campaigner Dr Nicole Farmer.

Dr Farmer, tell us about this machine

you've developed. It sounds scary.

No, Tom. No, it's not scary at all.

It's just a laptop computer

attached to a simple machine.

- How exactly does it work?

- Well, perhaps I could show you, Kylie.

Could you give me your arm? There we go.

So, the computer speaks to the machine,

which is attached

to the cannula in your arm.

Now, here we have

a lethal dose of pentobarbital.

But the plunger can only be activated

after the patient has answered yes

to three simple questions,

which will appear here

on the screen of the computer.

Okay, so, why the machine?

Why not just ask the questions yourself?

It's a safeguard for the patient.

It means that the final decision

is the patient's and the patient's alone.

- So, are you ready, Kylie?

- I think so. I'm a little scared.

Sure you want to do this?

We've only just... renewed your contract.

- So, first question.

- "Do you wish to proceed?"

Second question.

"Do you understand that

if you proceed, you will die?"

And the third question.

"In 15 seconds, you will receive

a lethal injection and you will die.

"Do you wish to proceed?

'Yes' press the space bar."

I'm sorry. I don't think

I can... I'm sorry.

Kylie. That's a perfectly normal reaction.

- Can I just have some water?

- Yeah.

Perhaps we'd better take a break

and give Kylie some time to recover

from her near-death experience.

After the break, toenails...

what they can tell you about yourself.

"Open". "Open".

"Open? "Open".

F***!

What the f*** is that?

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