"A thronging crowd has gathered in front of the New Victoria Theatre to catch a glimpse of the various celebrities and notables invited to the first screening of the latest film headlined by famed former-Korean actor Hwan-Joon Choi, 'Across the River'. Hello, and welcome to The Filmfest, live at the scene with me, Rebecca Gantry as your host for the event!"
The reporter, Rebecca, stands off to the side of the red carpet leading from the busy sidewalk into the main entrance of the theatre building, a recently rebuilt modern interpretation of the previous historic landmark which burned down a few years prior. The screening was to christen its return. And whether out of a love for the theatre's heritage or because of the people involved in the new production, the crowd turnout was truly massive, the street packed on both sides from the corner of Mission and 18th to the corner of Mission and 14th - all people trying to catch a glimpse of the invited guests as they arrived at the carpet.
"Many of the people gathered here today are doing so in hopes of catching a glimpse of Acadamy darling Mr Choi, but reports from the director, Leon Kinsey indicate that he will not be in attendance for reasons we can only speculate. Indeed, the star has been absent from the public eye for several weeks now, and even I find myself curious about his absence from the event..."
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Straight from the airport lobby into a limousine with tinted bulletproof windows and puncture-proof tires, the Jennings sit on a faux-leather sofa with New Wave pop music playing quietly through the cabin.
Sharon Jennings does her best to ignore the bumpy road as she taps away at a laptop keyboard, humming along to the music. For the event, she's been badgered by her assistant and husband into wearing a red-white patterned halterneck dress and tying her hair into a low bun. Additional accessorising was vehemently rejected, but a compromise of a single jewelled silver bangle was eventually added to her left wrist. Though it currently sits wedged into a cup holder due to the discomfort of wearing it while typing.
Stephen, similarly finds himself preoccupied with a 13" tablet displaying a video with an accompanying written report. He has been watching it on repeat since they boarded his private plane, a fact which hasn't entirely escaped his wife's notice, though she remains more concerned with her own work - more than her concern for his present discomfort.
But his limit has been reached. Steve throws the tablet aside carelessly, pinching at the bridge of his nose and leaning back into his seat, exhaling coarsely, "..Damn it..."
Mid-sentence, Sharon's fingers pause, claw-like over the keys, and with tired eyes narrowed at her husband, "Finally ready to talk to me about what's eating you up?"
Sighing, Steve's head lolls forward and he scratches the nape of his neck, "You know why. The progress of some of the subjects is going a bit faster than we thought they would be able to manage. And it's fine if they go off the rails, it's great even, but if Mr Macklemore keeps going the way it looks like he's gonna go, it's going to move the schedule up way faster than we or the other subjects can handle. It's not gonna happen all at once, but it's going to get exponentially worse if he's not reigned in or distracted, yeah?"
Sharon pulls her arms back from the laptop and rests them in her lap, "Didn't you try bringing it up with him in your one-on-one?"
"You know I can't. That's the problem. I've got Matthew and his team breathing down my neck to come up with a decision of whether to pull the plug on his testing contract or let them intervene before it gets out of control. Which has the technicians and analysts yelling at me not to let the writing guys anywhere near an active, ongoing test cycle."
Frustrated, he throws his hands up in the air and sinks low into the couch, reaching for a bottle of water, "Honestly, I'm tempted to say screw it and let it happen since Matthew and Kirsty should have known better, but..."
Steve gives his wife a meaningful, sad look. She returns it impassively, for several seconds before sighing, closing her laptop and setting it aside.
"It's sweet of you to worry about it for my sake, Steve. But you're worrying too much about it. This is exactly the sort of scenario Project: Eden was made for. Tell Matthew and his book club to have a little faith in the potential of Mr Macklemore and the others. If they don't have any hope for the growth of these subjects, then I have to question why they even agreed to work with us."
Steve smiles slightly, placing a hand on his wife's thigh, "Well if nothing else, you managed to convince me when I was at my lowest. If that doesn't prove the validity of your dream, I don't know what does. I just want to see how things turn out before we're dead and burned, yeah? It'd be a crying shame for us both to miss its official birth. It's taken us half our lives to get this far, and we don't have the time to start from scratch if one subject gets it in his head to ruin it."
He takes her hand into his and squeezes, "I know you want to trust them, but I can't ignore a potential problem just because it's in its early stages. I wouldn't have the wealth I do now if I didn't know how to handle risks when investing."
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Sharon laughs softly, "I didn't marry you for your money, and it's unfair of you to bring it up."
The couple shares a loving kiss, before being interrupted by their driver on the intercom, "Heads up, we're approaching the theatre now, ETA 2 minutes."
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"Ok, I'm getting a report from my colleagues further up the road that...that Stephen Jennings' limousine has been spotted approaching the venue! In fact, here it comes now."
Rebecca turns in anticipation as the all-black limo slows to a halt in front of the aisle. A member of the event's security approaches the driver, exchanges a few words then opens the passenger door to allow it's occupants to exit. The crowd's enthusiasm raises to a bass-y roar, which Stephen acknowledges with a smile and wave before assisting his wife in leaving the vehicle to prevent any potential embarrassment.
Seeing an excellent opportunity to further her career, the reporter suppresses the urge to smirk and calls out to the power couple, "Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Jennings? I'm from The Filmfest, could I trouble you for a quick couple of questions?"
Pausing mid-step with his wife's arm in his, he turns to regard her, then gives Rebecca a slight nod. She grins, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her eyes and beginning the interview, "Hi, thanks for your consideration! Now, I'm sure our viewers back home are dying to know what brings you out here tonight. According to rumour, you're acquainted with Mr Choi, but with his absence, it's odd to see you both in attendance."
Stephen is the one to respond to the question, smiling wide with practised ease, "Wherever he is now, the film he performed in for everyone the world over to watch still remains, and it would be a crying shame not to see it when we already have our invitations, yeah? Besides, one man alone does not make a movie - and the other cast members and the film crew deserve just as much support and attention."
Rebecca nods along, "Just so, just so. Have you any other comments to add?"
Sharon shakes her head after a moment's consideration, but Stephen merely chuckles at his wife's apparent shyness, "Works of art like this are part of what makes our life worth living. I came here expecting a large crowd but I've gotta say it's kind of staggering just how much passion is packed into a couple city blocks. I sincerely wish that whatever the reason for their excitement, they don't ever lose that spark."
"Inspiring words to be sure...Thanks for your time, and enjoy your evening!"
As the Jennings walk onward, the reporter inwardly salivates over the bonus her boss is going to give her for landing an - admittedly brief - interview with Stephen and Sharon Jennings.
Maybe it's time to start looking into booking a trip in that new airship cruiseliner all the celebrities are going nuts for.
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Back in the Think Tank, however, the voices raised aren't out of adoration and respect, but of rage and indignation.
Three people have gathered in the office of one of the project's Lead Technicians, Jamie Melnyk, a middle-aged woman with greying short blonde hair and a physique that is completely at odds with her profession. The other two present and the source of most of the shouting are a female Senior Security Officer and the Head of the Writing Team, Matthew Tildon.
The incensed old man bites back at what he views as an outrageous demand, "ABSOLUTELY OUT OF THE QUESTION! Stephen may have agreed to consider allowing you to enter the simulation, but that is not in and of itself, permission! Moreover, the storyline would be utterly ruined by such heavy-handed interference. No. No, I won't stand for it!"
The security officer, Jillian McDonnell, is not in any mood to back down, however, clenching her fist and stomping a single foot forward, "So you expect me to just watch my sister suffer as she's sold into slavery with no way out?! Oh suuuure, maybe after your beloved 'storyline' concludes in however many years she'll be freed. Or more likely have her throat slit when her usefulness as a hostage dries up because nobody in whatever that place is called cares about it. With your 'storyline' as is, she'll be dead in what, a week? You've stacked the odds so high against her it's beyond unfair!"
"That doesn't mean you can just plug yourself in all willy-nilly and break down the door to her room like an action hero just because you don't have any faith in her ability to take care of herself!"
This last comment rankles Jillian, and for a moment her hand twitches towards her shockstick's holster. The temptation is fleeting, however, and years of discipline and training kick in almost immediately, "Lexi can handle herself against a couple street thugs no problem, but this is clearly well above what a rookie should have to be facing and you fucking know it!"
Instead of Matthew, Jamie speaks up, cutting him off before he has a chance to retort, "Though I understand your concern, and honestly, I kind of agree that it's a bit much for the first day; I still think you should have a bit more faith in Matthew and your sister."
Her voice and demeanour are calm, a stark contrast to the cold fury of Jillian and the red-faced Matthew. Neither one seems willing to listen to the would-be mediator - however, she is not finished speaking, "That's ultimately irrelevant though. I can't sign off on letting you into the game, for a number of reasons. The main one being one that Matthew mentioned - Lack of explicit permission. If Steve or Sharon sent me and the other Leads a message saying to let you in then sure we'd look into a way to do it. But without that, it'd be risking our jobs, the integrity of the system and the safety of the test subjects. It goes without saying that this includes your sister as well."
Jillian folds her arms, scowling, "I hear you, and what you're saying is reasonable. But also fuck you, that's my fucking sister that this idiot and his crew has thrown to the goddamn wolves as a motherfucking sacrificial plot device. Ya think that Mr Jennings is gonna be happier when I point out to him how badly you've fucked her over? Because I doubt he's seen all the footage yet, and something tells me he ain't gonna be impressed."
Worry flashes across Matthew's face, but Jamie is unfazed, "Then, by all means, try and convince him and Sharon. But until I hear an order from either of them, the answer is still no, no matter how many times you yell the F word at me. Now if you'd be so kind as to take your argument somewhere else, I still have actual work to do."