Kyle was too tired to leap to anger, but he could sense that it might erupt in him shortly. He leant forward in his chair. ‘So, what you’re saying is my benefits have been suspended because I haven’t applied for enough jobs.’

‘You haven’t applied for any jobs,’ Mrs Costello replied, trying to hide her embarrassment. The young man was clearly exhausted, his clothes were filthy and he smelled of sweat and smoke.

‘Yes, because if it hadn’t escaped your notice, the country is on fire. I’m a volunteer firefighter with the Rural Fire Service.’ He hadn’t showered before coming to the welfare office. He’d found the letter on the mat after 14 hours of battling flames through the night and early morning and got straight back in his car.

‘You still need to apply for the requisite number of jobs per week if you want to continue receiving benefits, Mr Kelly.’

‘Are you serious?’ Kyle closed his eyes. He was having difficulty getting his head around the situation: you bust a gut trying to help tackle a major disaster and the state screws you for your efforts. ‘I’ve been fighting fires almost full-time since September. Every day for the past six weeks. I’ve barely slept.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Kelly, but there are rules that have to be followed.’

‘Surely you can make an exception given the circumstances?’

‘I’m afraid not. The system doesn’t accept fighting fires as a valid exception.’ More often than she would admit, Mrs Costello hated her work. She was left to explain the indefensible to people who deserved better. As far as she was concerned the system was failing Kyle Kelly. Not that she could tell him that. Instead, she had to parrot the institutional line.

‘But that’s crazy!’ Kyle snapped. ‘A state of emergency has been declared. Twelve million acres have burnt since July. Hundreds of houses have been destroyed, millions of wildlife killed. People have been evacuated and rescued. Two dozen people have lost their lives. Most of the time day seems like night because of the thick smoke. We’ve been trying to fight dozens of firestorms in 40-degree temperatures, hotter with the flames.’