Abruptly she decided not to.
Her shoulders slumped, her head bent down, she turned and walked back to her parent’s house.
6. JESUS THING
Saul Kalman retrieved an urgent message on his desk terminal – a new account had been set up for a Russian company: “Jacovik Premium Imported Vodka.” It was to be advertised subliminally on the Travels network, and it was part of Saul’s job to supervise the design of the subliminal message.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself as he stared at the screen. He was feeling more than a little dizzy. Saul didn’t approve of advertising on Travels; the company didn’t need it, subscriber fees paid for the channel. Ratings were phenomenally high for the network and still growing; Travels had a continuous 37% to 51%
share of the total television audience. Telcron Systems Inc., the company that produced Travels, was upsetting the balance of the entire video industry, dominating the other networks – and Telcron was yielding, at last, to advertisers clamoring to use the Travels medium, and to Telcron stockholders who wanted the advertising for the tripled income. Commercials were now present on Travels, but they did not interrupt the program – the program must remain endless, uninterrupted – so advertisers were paying multi-millions to be part of the background, the commercials entirely subliminal. Also, there was a maximum limit of commercial accounts accepted by Telcron; advertisers fought and backstabbed each other to acquire accounts. Saul wondered uneasily about the antics “Jacovik Vodka” had gone through to secure this new account.
“Shit,” he said again. It was hard for him to concentrate on the problem, it was too early in the morning. He gave up trying, deciding to drop the whole matter in the lap of Vicky Zcavowitz, his assistant creative engineer. Pushing a button on his terminal, he sent the memo and information down to her, and paused for a moment to add a few suggestions to help her along. Maybe, he thought, we could stick it on a billboard in the background. Hell, have the ball bounce off the billboard, slo-mo, in an erotic and suggestive way.
He shook his head. That was too obvious. Hell, he thought, let her think about it. With a decisive motion he slammed the send button and his notes joined the rest of the problem down in Vicky’s terminal, waiting for her just as it had been waiting for him. He looked at the time readout on the screen. Hmmmm. She would be calling in about 5 minutes madder than hell, and he was going to have to placate her, calm her down – show confidence in her and promise a raise or something, then pray she does a good job or it would be his neck. But dammit, he thought, I don’t have time for this! Saul had to be out in the field in an hour, and he should be taking his morning dose or Mataphin about now. If they wanted advertising, they should have a whole department to take care of it – not just him.
The terminal in front of him buzzed, a call came in. The point of origin was the main 54th floor terminal, probably Lisa Schemandle. If it was Lisa, Saul knew what it would be about –
something related to the Second Coming stunt that JTV was pulling.
Saul reached over and picked up his Mataphin dispenser, deciding to take the creativity enhancer immediately, to get it into his system before having to deal with this money-head bitch.
Her face blinked onto the screen, off-center. It was ruddy and lined, her eyebrows clenched, her expression dour. “Saul,” she said.
“Good morning, Lisa.”
“We’ve got to do something about this Jesus thing. We’ve got to neutralize it somehow.”
“Why?” Saul said.
“Well Saul, use your goddamn mind! They’re trying to get their ratings back! If they pull this off, the bottom will drop out – isn’t that obvious to you? We’ve got to take steps to neutralize it!”
“You really think they have a chance?”
“Saul, you know who owns JTV, right? The United Church! The United Church leases satellite time from the Swiss National Trust, which has large holdings in the U.S. Food & Materials Corporation.
The USFMC is owned by the United States Government. The United Church has special rates on their satellite time because they own a large chunk of Swiss Trust, and the USFMC donates a hell of a lot of money to the United Church. Do you get the picture, Saul?
Do I have to spell it out any more? We’re dealing with a giant, a megacorp! We can’t take any chances.”
Saul didn’t appreciate this downward tone of her’s; he glared at her, frowning. “Telcron is owned by Mitsubishi.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Well then what is the point? We’re a megacorp too. Why should we panic? I mean, it’s not like we can stage a counter-spectacular. We can’t change the format, Travels is Travels. People–-”
“Shut up for a second and listen to me. Saul, my own personal neck is on the cutting block here. I have no idea what to do either, but something must be done – something. You and I can come up with something if we think. Muck with the AHL intensity, increase the pace, anything! We’ve got to. Those bastards have pulled a fast one, Saul. This is serious. But they’re dough-heads, fucking god-freaks – not professionals like us, not artists like you. Consult with your expert systems, your staff, and phone me after you get back from the field. Around six o’clock.” She cut the connection, leaving Saul with sweating palms. He took another Mataphin tab without realizing he’d already had his morning dosage and shuffled out of his office, escaping down the elevator.
The fresh morning air did nothing to cheer him, and he felt rotten about what he had done to Vicky. He dreaded facing her.
She’s in the same goddamned position I’m in, he realized. I’ve put her there, out of panic, just like Lisa Schemandle panicked and put her job on my lap.
The Mataphin began taking strong hold as he found himself a seat on the crew truck. He settled back, made himself comfortable, and tried to relax and think. The crew would be down in a few moments along with a fuming Vicky Zcavowitz, but for now, at least, he had peace.
So, he thought. What to do?
Well, the strength of Travels was its high Attention Holding Level; motion and music created by the human mind for the human mind, enhanced and reinforced to produce a strong mesmerizing effect. When Saul had first joined Telcron Systems the AHL was merely an afterthought, a study done by one of the Mitsubishi executives long since gone – the study did nothing more than pin down what it was that made beta-test versions of Travels so pleasant to watch. Later this was seized upon, developed, artificially enhanced by teams of creative engineers of which Saul had been a key member. Now the AHL was more important than the program itself – the “art” that had been Travels was relegated to the background. The AHL was Travels, and if there were an answer to the present problem, it had to lie in the AHL.
That was the solution.
If our viewers are already in heaven, Saul thought, what would they need a savior for? The AHL needs to be intensified. But that means a hell of a lot of work, the entire production system would have to be re-geared.
Shit, he thought. Why do it? Why panic and over-react? Why couldn’t we just ride it out? JTV’s stunt, after all, is risky –
it could backfire altogether, eliminate the need for a Travels response. And our “response”, our compensation for their stunt, could backfire as well. The Politico Network would end up with all the ratings.
Nevertheless Saul had to do it, it was now his job. As he sat there thinking about all his problems, made colorful and even larger by the oncoming influence of Mataphin, Vicky arrived to complicate everything and make Saul even more miserable.
7. FELLATIO
The screen on Dodd’s bedroom telephone read: MESSAGES: 00 MAIL: 01
Someone had sent him mail. Probably junk mail, he thought as he retrieved it to the screen. The ancient art of “SPAM”. As the message flashed up in little glowing letters Dodd wondered if it was junk mail or if it was truly directed at him: TO: Dodd Corely DATE: 6/1/42
FROM: friends SUBJECT: your soul THESE are the LAST DAYS.
BEWARE the ANTICHRIST AI!
Don’t be fooled by the LIAR who mixes Truth with his LIES.
<<< BELIEVE NOTHING! >>>
Believe nothing and nothing will fool you.
Trust only what you can reach out and touch!
GUARD your SOUL!
BELIEVE NOTHING! BEWARE THE ANTICHRIST AI!
Digital graffiti junk mail. Dodd could do it himself, if he had the right program and was willing to pay the phone bill. He erased the message, wishing he had an Artificial Intelligence program of his own to shield him from such things.