In the twisted fever dream of Pelican Park, I encountered Doug, a man with wild, bloodshot eyes and a grin of lonely teeth. He questioned me about the council man, who had been taking pictures of our cars. Doug and I were denizens of Pelican Park, the final refuge for those whose dreams had been chewed up by society. We lived in our vehicles, monuments to the cruel joke of the Australian Dream.
I introduced myself as Tom, vowing to write a letter of protest to the council. Doug lived in a rusted-out van with his loyal Border Collie, Samuel, and lamented the impossibility of finding a place with a canine companion. Doug had acquired Samuel as a pup, and he fed the magpies as a small gesture of kindness.
The Breakfast Club, a food delivery van, sustained us, the wretched souls of Pelican Park. Doug had been living this life for the last ten years, accepting only cash in hand when he worked. He despised the government and had been cut off from the dole for not jumping through hoops.
Another lost soul, Andy, sported piercings, a long goatee, and tattoos—a wild woman with flowing hair, a dragon, and a smoking skull. During infamous four-day benders, Andy would wreak havoc with a baseball bat. Doug and Andy, both truck drivers on the brink of oblivion, sought refuge at the Salvation Army.
As the self-appointed scribe of our motley crew, I set out to defend the honor of the misfits and outcasts of Pelican Park. With the assistance of Open GPT, I forged a letter of protest to the Moreton Bay Shire, a howl of rage echoing through the digital void.
The AI assistant crafted a letter that channeled the rage of the downtrodden:
> Hey, Moreton Bay Shire,
>
> Today, some council goon went berserk at Pelican Park, branding folks with trailers as homeless losers. The guy spewed venom and snapped pics without permission. Invasion of privacy much? Didn't even identify himself!
>
> Could've asked what's up. Nope! Just assumed we're all abusing the place. Way off base, buddy. Investigate this lawless council jerk, or I'm taking it further. Happened May 2nd, 2023, pre-10 am.
>
> Yours in fury,
>
> A pissed-off ratepayer.
Doug, a gentle soul, beamed with pride as I typed. The letter symbolized our fight against the injustices that plagued us. Together, we would defend our right to exist in a world that sought to cast us aside.
As we clung to the fringes of society in Pelican Park, our battle for dignity and recognition raged on. Buoyed by the strength of our makeshift family and the strange, disembodied voice of an artificial intelligence, we found hope amidst the chaos. The letter became a symbol of our collective will to fight, a testament to our resolve, as we battled for our dignity and our right to exist in a world that seemed hell-bent on casting us aside.
