As I was studying the women and Mike, I had been ignoring the other man in the room. Well, because if I looked at him, I’d get tongue-tied for sure. Sitting next to me was one of the stars of the last successful knock-off of the Original Big Bang. I swallowed an “uh” and gulped back an “eep.” Then he smiled so slowly that I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“You’ve seen my show?” he ducked his head like it was more of a burden than a joy that he had the face of one of the most beloved characters on all of VR.
“Only the free episodes,” I admitted. “They were great.” What I’d also done is read all about how he was the current Hollywood VR magic maker. If he picked someone, they made it. I did a double-blink trying to find the VR edges of the screen. It was a prank. Dr. Fuckhead was messing with me.
“I’m looking to sign you and your program,” he said, and I looked under my chair.
“I tried to tell you,” Mike murmured to the big man. “She’s too skittish for this level of blindside. You’ve got to let her get there.”
“I’m not here to baby her into accepting me,” Big-man said, a laugh still in his eyes. “I make people. If she doesn’t grab the opportunity, then she’s not as all that as you thought she was. I know you think you can find talent in the prison system, but I don’t agree. She’s not ready. Let her deal with a lesser agent for a while and then come crawling in.”
“Wow,” I butted in. “That was quite a mouthful of words that were both condescending and insulting.” Where had I gotten that spine? I was half-sure that this was some sick prank or joke. Maybe a dream or nightmare or something. “Dr. Dickhead used that kind of good-cop/bad-cop negotiating tactics too, so this is not convincing me to trust anyone here.”
“There’s her spine,” Big-man laughed and it was exactly like I remembered from his show. The guy was a lot older now, but he still commanded a room. “Good. That’s a good sign. Sorry for being a prick. We can get serious now.”
I gave him a look like he’d stood up and pissed in his own coffee. “I’m not jumping in bed with yet another asshole who’s going to try to own me or trick me or push me around!”
“Not even for a six-figure salary, big house, and company car?” he challenged me, and it just got me mad. Like stupid, crazy kind of mad because most of me knew I was supposed to be sitting down and saying yes sir and no sir a lot.
“Not even for a full copy of my original cast and crew, which the prison is probably deleting as we speak,” I stood up to yell back at him. “Not for that six-figure slavery contract, or for a house and car you can hold over my head anytime you want to push into my programming to tell me I’ve been a bad girl! I’m a person! A real live person! I’m not some doll you can take out and play with just because you have a bunch of money and are bored of people kissing your ass.”
The women had paled, leaning back in their chairs to get further from me. Mike looked up and away, covering his mouth in a swish to try to wipe away a smile. Big-man cocked his head to the side and perused me like a side of beef, his eyebrows hiked into his receding hairline. My stomach sank. I’d been under a lot of pressure but was that really an excuse for blowing the best chance I’d ever had at getting up out of the gutter? Who was I to think I could do it all on my own?
“Crazy, stupid, or genius?” Big-man blew out a breath and directed his question to Mike.
“Look, Dad, I’m not sure, honestly,” Mike shook his head. I didn’t hear what came next. Dad? Dad!?!?!?!? Yeah, I was so out of my league.
“Where are you going?” Big-man called out to me as I pushed back from the table and stood to leave, the women following but not to catch me, rather running away from me and my wild insubordination.
“I’m going out to that office there with the lovely secretary like it’s the 2020s,” I stated, shuffling toward the door. “I’m going to grab my duffle bag from wherever the lovely secretary stashed it, and I’m going across the street to have another overpriced cup of coffee while I search my phone for someone that’ll take me as a client after they hear about this.”
“Janet, wait!” Mike was saying, but I could barely hear him over Big-man’s laughter. I just figured I didn’t have a chance. All this was so far above my pay grade that I shouldn’t even be breathing this air. My little show was not something that was worthy of Mr. Dream-maker, not even the boy-wonder of said Dream-maker. It was just a show.
“Janet!” Mike called again, but I was halfway to the elevators by the time he caught up with me.
“How bad am I going to be blackballed?” I forced myself to ask, hitting the button for the second time because it was the only thing keeping me from crying.
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“Janet, listen, this is serious,” Mike stood between me and the elevator. “We really do want your show. At least I do. Dad can be a pill and he’s too old-school to be politically correct, but he’ll grow on you.”
“You want me to believe that the biggest Dream-makers in Hollywood want my little show,” I punched the button again. Why was it taking so long? Had they shut them down? Was this really a VR where they could do that? The World AI would have done it to me on my show. Did it matter?
“Your little show got 2 million viewers in seventeen days,” he announced.
“So? I can’t be the first,” I sulked, looking up into his eyes and seeing frustration in Slick’s gaze.
“You’re the first to do it from the prison system, with a prison pod, against the machinations of the warden of said prison disliking you,” he ticked stuff off as the doors opened to the elevators.
“And there’s a lot of how bad of a prisoner I am in all that,” I twirled my finger in a crazy motion around my ear even as I ducked around him to get into the elevator.
“And you did it with a prison set of AIs that aren’t even designed for good programming,” he held the door open.
“They were fabulous AIs!” I argued back with renewed ire. “What they didn’t know, they learned to do!”
“That’s what I’m talking about Janet!” he held the door even as it started to protest. “Nobody’s taken a NOOB network show from zero to over 2 million with prison-crippled AI systems and no programming. Nobody. Not ever!”
“That can’t be right,” and I pressed the close-door button insistently. “The AIs did most of the work and I don’t have them anymore.” The last choked out and I fought back tearing up by looking at the numbers over the door that couldn’t move because he was holding the door open.
“Would it change anything if I said I could get your specific AI programs back?” Mike gave up holding back the doors and just got in the elevator with me. It was like he’d kicked me in the gut.
“You really think Dr. Psychofuckhead is going to do anything to help me?” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at the numbers on the elevator like they were going to save my life. “He hates me.”
“The only reason he hates you is that you refused to make any money for him,” Mike explained, but it was like he was talking to a child. “He gets a commission of all program profits.”
“Figures,” I threw my hands up. “That’s just more reason to not make money for him,” I fisted my hands and straightened my arms at my sides. “People like him are what’s wrong with everything! They have all the power and get paid to be sadists. If you even try to fight back, they always win in the end. What you really mean is that you could buy out those AIs and fill his corrupt pocket with a chunk of money! How does that change anything?” I was surprised to find that I was yelling, but the elevator was empty except for the two of us.
“Maybe you need to pick your battles!” Mike shouted back at me. “Let money pay this bill and then hit him back. You can do that out here! You can say what you want to say, the things they didn’t let you say before. Isn’t that worth a paycheck to the guy you want to put out of business?”
“I couldn’t put him out of business if I had a million dollars!” I complained.
“You don’t need a million dollars; you have two million viewers!” he looked like he wanted to shake me.
“What are you saying?” I challenged him, the elevator halfway to the lobby.
“I’m saying you can put your Dr. Psychofuckhead in your show and kill him over and over again for all I care!” He was yelling pretty loudly now and I’m ashamed to say I was listening better because of it. Seeing Mr. Slick lose his cool and get a little red around the ears was gratifying in a perverse way that I liked. “You can slam the prison system and everything about it or you could just expose Dr. Psychofuckhead as the sadistic bastard he is. You could make your own prison and run it differently. I. Don’t! Care!!”
“No, I couldn’t,” I nearly whispered in that echoing elevator.
“Why do you think that?” he demanded, trying to lower his voice to match mine, but still alarmingly flushed.
“Defamation of character,” I insisted. “There are laws against this stuff. Hell, there were laws against me minding my own business! What’s going to stop all those assholes like Dr. Psychomoron from finding some trumped up charge to get me under their thumb again.”
“That’s why you need me and yes, my dad,” he stood in front of me, his back to the elevator door, maybe to try to stop me from bolting the second it opened. “We have a staff of lawyers who just love to fight people like that. What we don’t have is someone with the nerve to call them out on their bullshit.”
The elevator doors opened on the lobby and a small group of folks waiting to ride up stood there gaping at the scene we were making. They couldn’t get in because Mr. Slick stood in the doorway of the elevator blocking everyone. I thought for sure someone was going to get mad or protest, but they turned away from the scene like it could be contagious.
“I’m a nobody!” I finally shouted at him. “Invisible! Incapable of making a difference even if I had a billion viewers!” Did a part of me think that if I shouted that someone would come to my aid? If so, that was stupid because Mike was just another one of those people that were born with the clout to do what they wanted and get away with anything. “You don’t know what it means to wake up convicted of social ineptitude! You would never be tossed in a program where everyone gets to see you stripped of all dignity and rights, with programs specifically designed to torture you into compliance in a way that entertains the public! And for what? So, some sadist can make some money?! No. Thank! YOU!!”
“The only reason you couldn’t change anything was because you didn’t have someone like me backing you,” Mike tried to explain, but how could he understand?
“What’s the catch?” I planted my feet. “I’d just be going from one sadistic, control freak to another. How are you going to be different? Not only are you going to BUY my old programs and put money in that sadist’s pocket, but then you’re going to own me, and I’ll be stuck with whatever sadistic rules you want to put on me.”