Your Mother Has Left You In a Coffee Cup

The plane has departed for Adelaide.

Unni walks back through the airport, thinking of catching a train.

As she passes the Coffee Club, she sees a security guard placing flags round a table.

It's the table where, earlier, she, Arthur, Pablo and Dries had been drinking their coffee.

It might be a bomb threat. She goes up to the guard.

I was just sitting there! says Unni.

Oh, were you? says the guard. Did you by any chance place a dead bird in a coffee cup?

No, says Unni. But I know who might have. Why?

Because there is a dead bird in this coffee cup, says the guard. Can you identify it?

He holds out the cup.

A bedraggled baby Bristlebird is stretched out on the bottom, not breathing.

I know it, says Unni. It's only just hatched. I knew Arth.... my friend shouldn't have given it coffee.

Your friend gave a newly hatched bird coffee! says the guard. I must say, milk would have been better. I wouldn't be surprised if this little tacker's gone into cardiac arrest.

Can we get him out of the coffee cup? asks Unni.

Sure, says the guard, who likes birds, and hates to see dead ones.

The guard tips the baby Bristlebird onto the table.

A crowd has gathered.

Is it a bomb threat? asks someone. Should we be running?

It's a fake bird, says another. I think it's ticking!

Please move on, says the guard. It's a small medical emergency. If you want to help, go and fetch a defibrillator. There's one on the wall there.

The crowd parts so that one of them can run to the wall and fetch the defibrillator.

It's too big, say Unni, when the defibrillator is brought to the table.

Yes it is, says the guard. I should have known. I'm a bit flustered. Time is crucial in cardiac arrest cases.

Look, it's moving, says a woman.

So it is. All it needed was to be taken out of the coffee cup.

Hic squaw wee! The baby Bristlebird looks round for his mother. Where is she?

She had deep blue eyes and a pocket full of feathers. She gave him a very strong stimulant. He can still smell it.

( The baby Bristlebird has taken Arthur for its mother, in a natural process which biologists call IMPRINTING.)

Give him to me, says Unni.

Okay, says the guard. Here he is. All's well that ends well.

He removes the flags from round the table and returns the too-big defibrillator.

Unni cups the baby Bristlebird in her hand and strokes it gently.

What am I going to do with you, baby?

The baby Bristlebird glares at her with the same steely eyes as its parents.

NOTHING, LADY. YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER.