The Distant Joke
Act I "Tell him the quota is met, Faye. Tell him we have the parts."‌​⁠⁠‌‌‌​​‌⁠‍​⁠‍⁠​‍‍⁠​⁠⁠⁠⁠​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍⁠⁠‌‌‍‍‍‍​‍⁠⁠⁠​​⁠‍‌​⁠‌‌​​​‌‌ The magistrate’s voice was thin, stretched over the static of the radio, but the weight of the command sat heavy on Faye Barlow’s shoulders, a physical burden she had carried since the Iron Guard dissolved into the terrace rows of Melbourne. She stood in...
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