Authors: Nancy Kress
Violet said, “Speak English!”
Rafe said, “I am.
Who–You
was all about electronic voting. And the show shaped public opinion—including opinion of us—on the Internet. That’s where things happen now.”
Amy got up from her chair. With great deliberation, she walked toward Rafe. Saliva or no saliva, she intended to kiss him.
A piercing scream in the corridor stopped her. Then another, even more horrible. Shouts, and a phantom leaped into Amy’s brain:
a huge golden lion, wounded and bleeding, trying to bite a rearing snake
.
All four of them tore into the hall.
Tommy stood over Myra, who crouched on the floor with her hands over her head. Tommy held an IV pole grabbed from a patient in a wheelchair. The patient cowered in his chair. Tommy raised the IV pole and brought it down on Myra, shouting, “You did it! You made the squirrel bite Rafe! And I’m not going back to Sam like you said, I’m not getting locked in that insitution again, I’m not I’m not I’m not! You told Sam he would get money for letting you use me but I hate the show and hate it and hate it! And Cai said you made the squirrel bite Rafe! You’re a bad person a bad person a bad person—”
Myra screamed at the blow from the metal IV. It landed on her shoulder, not her head, but with enough force to send her sprawling across the floor. An orderly rushed toward Tommy, who continued to yell. The orderly tried to grab Tommy, but he was nowhere near Tommy’s size and Tommy threw him off. “I won’t go back to Sam and the insitution I won’t—” He raised the IV pole again.
Myra pulled a gun from her purse and fired.
Tommy screamed and went down.
Then the orderly grabbed Myra, joined by two more men who rushed from nearby rooms. Amy darted toward Tommy but was immediately blocked from getting to him. The men jumped on him, pinning him to the floor. A nurse was shouting into a phone. Patients yelled in nearby rooms, and people caught in the corridor either stayed flattened to the wall or tried to flee.
The orderly had Myra’s gun. Blood gushed from Tommy’s arm but it seemed to Amy that he wasn’t dangerously hurt. He wasn’t fighting the men pinning him, and he wasn’t shouting anymore. In fact, his broad face had smoothed out, looking almost peaceful. The men looked at each other, then cautiously eased off. Tommy sat up, cradling his arm, and looked down the corridor. “Hey, Amy,” he said. “Rafe, I see your ass!”
Hastily Rafe clutched his hospital gown, open down the back, around himself.
Violet laughed. Kaylie touched first Amy’s arm, and then her camera lens in its nest of chains. “Got it. All of it.”
“Where’d you get those chains, anyway?” Violet asked.
“Tore them off the tampon dispenser in the ladies’ room. They were holding it to the wall.”
Violet made a noise that could have meant anything. Cops burst into the corridor. Myra struggled to stand, but the orderly wouldn’t let her. A doctor bent over Tommy’s arm. Amy, light-headed, suddenly had to sit down. She turned to go into Rafe’s room, saw Rafe standing there clutching his ridiculous hospital gown, and walked straight into his arms. His lips felt full and soft.
Behind her she heard Violet say softly, “Thank you, One Two Three.” But it didn’t matter. At this moment, at least, only Rafe mattered. At this glorious moment.
Thirty-eight
W
EDNESDAY
THEY RAN THE VIDEOS
on a laptop Violet bought with her credit card; she was the only one who had one. Amy refused to let Kaylie steal anything else. They also bought a cell, putting it in Rafe’s name. “We’ll never get back the ones taken by the copter,” Rafe said regretfully. “They’ll all just conveniently be misplaced.”
Rafe had been released from the hospital that afternoon, after police officers had taken all their statements as witnesses. Amy warned everyone to tell the cops only that Myra had come to check on Rafe’s progress. Otherwise they might have been stuck giving depositions forever. Tommy stayed in the hospital while his arm was being treated; he didn’t seem to mind. “I got her,” he told Amy. “But I didn’t kill her.”
“No,” Amy agreed, fervently glad that he had not. She wasn’t sure whether Tommy was under arrest for assault. A bored-looking cop guarded his door. Well, the Lab Rats would deal with that when they had to.
Rafe, Violet, Amy, and Kaylie did minimum editing on the two videos, the one of Myra in the hospital room and the one of Tommy going berserk in the corridor. All they did was cut out Amy’s disappointed statement about Myra (“She didn’t admit anything”), plus Amy’s questioning Myra about the infected squirrel (“I don’t know for sure,” Rafe said, “but that might open Amy up to charges of libel”). He added, “I don’t know if they can tell whether we tampered with the video, but just in case, let’s not. I’m going to make six DVD copies and we need to put them in six different safe places. OK, Amy, you’re on.”
Amy stood self-consciously in front of a blank white wall in the hotel room they’d rented, again on Violet’s credit card. Kaylie recorded on her stolen microcamera. “My name is Amy Kent. You may have seen me on the TV show
Who Knows People, Baby—You?
If you didn’t, the show has six kids—wait, there were seven in the beginning, right? We had Lynn and—”
“Cut,” Violet said. “Amy, you’re no actor. Just say the speech the way we wrote it. Start over again.”
Amy grimaced and began over. “My name is Amy Kent. You may have seen me on the TV show
Who Knows People, Baby—You?
If you didn’t, the show has six kids thrust into various scenarios, and then viewers vote on how they think each will react. The show is produced by Taunton Life Network. But TLN didn’t just create harmless scenarios for us six. They used terrifying, real-life events like the Fairwood Hotel fire during the city riots. That might be objectionable, but it’s legal. What is
not
legal is to deliberately send some of us into real danger—and that’s what Myra Townsend, the executive producer, did. I and another participant, Waverly, were told by Myra to take my dying grandmother”—Amy faltered, but caught herself and went on—“directly into the path of a fire and of people shooting automatic weapons. What you are about to see is some of us confronting Myra about that, and our evidence. Then you’ll see Tommy, a mentally challenged show participant, make his own accusations against Myra—and her violent response. You might have seen something about the hospital shooting in the news, but here is the
real
story.”
“Good,” Kaylie said. “You look pathetic.”
“I don’t want to look pathetic.”
“Well, you do.”
They put Amy’s introduction at the head of the video, titled the whole thing “The Truth About Hospital Violence: Why Tommy Shot TLN Producer,” and added Rafe’s new cell number. “OK,” Rafe said, “here goes.” They uploaded to YouTube.
They each produced tweets on their newly opened Twitter accounts.
They took turns on the laptop e-mailing everyone they could think of to look at the YouTube video. “The problem,” Rafe said an hour later, when their hit rate was still low, “is that there are millions of things on YouTube, most of them junk. We have to get people to look at ours. If we could just reach somebody really influential!”
Kaylie’s stomach rumbled. She said, “How about we go out for—” when the communal cell rang. Rafe answered. “Yes?”
A deep voice said, “Amy Kent, please,” and Rafe passed the cell to Amy, who put it on speakerphone.
“This is Amy.”
“This is Harrison Tollers.”
Amy, Rafe, Violet, and Kaylie looked at one another and shrugged; nobody knew the name.
“I’m Waverly Balter-Wells’s father. My daughter just showed me your YouTube video. I would ordinarily discount this sort of hole-in-the-wall slander—James Taunton is a business acquaintance of mine—but Waverly assures me that you are not the sort to make things up or play stupid hoaxes. Is it true that this Townsend woman actually put my daughter in great danger in the hotel fire? Greater than occurred by chance?”
Amy drew a deep breath. “Yes, sir. She did.”
“And that tape you played of the phone call to . . . Waverly, what was the name of . . . oh, yes, to Violet—that tape is legitimate?”
“Yes, sir. It is. We have it.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Then why should I believe it’s legitimate?”
“It is. Waverly told you that I don’t lie.” A ridiculous statement—how many lies had Amy told in the last twenty-four hours? But she plunged ahead. “Besides, sir, would I take a risk like this if the tape weren’t legitimate? I think I might be opening myself up to libel charges.”
“You most certainly are. But if what you say happened really happened and my daughter’s life was deliberately endangered, you will have all the legal help you need, as well as a countersuit. I’m sending a car for you immediately. Where are you?”
Amy gave the name of the hotel. She added, “But the others involved in making the tape are coming, too. My sister Kayla Kent, Rafael Torres, and Violet Sanderson. Waverly knows them all.”
“Very well. Be out front in half an hour, Ms. Kent.” He hung up.
“Waverly,”
Violet said. “Who would have thought.”
Kaylie said, “Does
he
have a TV station, too? Are there roles available on his shows, do you think?”
“He doesn’t have a TV station,” Rafe said. “He has a bank. And a brokerage house.”
“Oh.”
Amy turned to the others. “Listen, we stick together on this. Kaylie, you say nothing against Violet, do you hear me? I mean it.”
“Saint Amy,” Kaylie said sourly. She was disappointed that Waverly’s father had no TV station. “Do I have to be nice to Waverly, too?”
“Yes!”
Violet had ducked her head. When she raised it, her eyes were watery. She tried to smile at Amy.
“Come on,” Amy said. “Let’s pack up.”
Rafe said, “I’m just going to check YouTube one more time before I shut down the—oh my God!”
“What?” Kaylie bounded forward.
“Half a million hits. And it’s going up.”
Amy closed her eyes. The room had suddenly quivered a bit. No phantom came to her mind, but a thought did, clear and shining even if it made no sense:
Thank you, Gran. Thank you
.
Forty
TLN EXECUTIVE ARRESTED ON CHARGES OF INTENT TO ENDANGER SHOW PARTICIPANTS
ASSAULT CHARGES DISMISSED AGAINST TOMMY WIMMER, “HOSPITAL BERSERKER”
Extenuating Circumstances Cited
MYRA TOWNSEND FIRED FROM TLN
TOWNSEND TRIAL TO BEGIN TODAY
TOWNSEND COUNTERSUIT AGAINST TV “LAB RATS” QUIETLY DROPPED
Says plaintiff lawyer caught off the record: “You can’t win against that much public opinion, no matter what the law says. That’s not the way the system works.”
CANCELED TV SHOW BECOMES CULT FAVORITE ON INTERNET
Notorious “Who Knows People, Baby—You?” Spawned Scandal, Court Cases, Largest Viral YouTube Video Ever
MYRA TOWNSEND CONVICTED OF RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT IN FIRST DEGREE
Could Get Five Years in Jail
Epilogue
A
NOTHER
S
PRING
“HEY, AREN’T YOU
Amy Kent?” the gardener asked, straightening up from the flowerbed on the university quad. He’d been weeding azaleas in full purple bloom.
“No,” Amy said, hurrying past.
This had been easier in the winter. Hoods, scarves, people rushing to class with their heads lowered against the fierce New England wind. She had scarcely ever been recognized, except in class or in the dorm. Either her classmates, after a few curious stares and some tentative questions not too difficult to evade, had dropped the subject of the TV show, or else she had dropped them. The circle of friends that she and Rafe had built up regarded them as who they were on campus, not before.
Anyway, most people were more interested in their own lives than in others’. Gran had always said that.
But not everybody, and here it was spring with its light, revealing clothing, and the kind of people interested in defunct TV shows and public scandal and court cases were going to recognize her again. Ah, well. In the most pragmatic terms possible: The money was worth it. Amy’s final two bonuses from TLN had gotten her through the bridge course and to college, and the settlement won from them by Waverly’s father’s lawyer would keep her here until she earned her degree.
But the degree wasn’t on her mind today. Kaylie was. Kaylie, and the reunion.
Rafe rounded the corner of the science building and waved at her. He had bulked up a little in the past year, but not much. Often he forgot to eat, especially when he stayed at the lab all night. Rafe had tested out of most freshman classes and was officially a second-year student, but he was taking mostly junior classes. In another year and a half he would apply to med school. Amy’s heart quickened at the sight of him. His kiss was deep and sweet.
“Where is this meeting, again?” he said when the kiss was over.
“You know, Rafe, you used to keep track of everything and now I’m the only one who ever knows what we’re doing.”
“I know what
you’re
doing,” Rafe said, “every little thing.”
It was true. He was interested in her classes, her activities, her mind and heart, just as Amy had always longed for.
You feel too much, Amy
, Gran had always said. But with Rafe it was safe to feel that much, because he returned it.
She said, “The reunion is at Di Capa’s.”
“Kaylie?”
“She said she would be there.” Amy’s voice was grim.
“So, all of us except Cai.”
“No, Cai’s coming.”
“He is! How did that happen?” He took her hand and they began walking.
“Tommy persuaded him. But I think the real reason is that Cai is finally over Kaylie. He’s bringing a girlfriend.”
“I see!”
“Tommy’s bringing a girlfriend, too. I think it’s more interesting that Waverly will be there.”
“Slumming, I’m sure.”
Amy laughed. “Either that or she’s lining up a future doctor for her future old age.”
“No, I’ll bet she just wants to remind us how much we owe her father. Subtly, of course.”
Amy sobered. “Well, we do.”
“He owes you, too. Waverly might not have gotten out of that hotel fire alive if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Oh, rot. Waverly always gets out alive. Who’s paying for this meal?”
“You are. I got it last time. Besides, I had to requisition more guinea pigs.”
Both of them had enough money to cover the costs of college, but not much more. Rafe could use the university lab equipment for his extra experiments only if he paid for the supplies himself. Research into the effects of various toxins on the amygdalae in the brain was expensive.
Amy’s own classes were going well. She might never find out what her phantoms really were, but she enjoyed her biology classes, she was on the dean’s list, and more scholarships were open to her. She could afford the next three years if she was careful—and if Kaylie didn’t need any more lawyers.
They reached Di Capa’s, an Italian restaurant off-campus, not so far away that the city became dangerous but not so close that many students would be there. Especially not at three in the afternoon. Cai, Tommy, and two girls were already seated at a table in the back. “Hey, Amy!” Tommy called. “Hey, Rafe!”
Cai smiled. Amy smiled back, feeling nothing. Cai was more gorgeous than ever, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his muscular body perfect in a white tee that made his skin even more golden, his blue eyes like a sunny ocean. Next to him, Rafe looked like a scrawny, monochromatic chicken. Amy didn’t care. She was more interested in the girl beside Cai, who was—
Oh my God. It was Aliya Brandon.
Amy managed a smile. Rafe frankly stared, and kept at it so long that Amy wanted to pinch him. Aliya Brandon’s beauty made even Cai look plain. Well, no, nothing could do that, but Aliya was not only spectacular, she was famous. Her skin, the color of milk chocolate, seemed to have no pores and to glow with an inner light. Her hair, deep auburn, framed a delicate face with black eyes and full red lips. Amy had seen that face blown up to ten feet across on a movie screen. And even ten feet across, she’d still had no pores.
Tommy had evidently been learning to do formal introductions. His brow scrunched with the effort to get it right. “Amy Kent, this is my girlfriend, Natalie Smith. And this is my friend Aliya Brandon. Natalie, Aliya, Amy Kent. Rafe Torres, this is my girlfriend, Natalie Smith. And this is my friend Aliya Brandon. Natalie, Aliya, Rafe Torres.”
“Hi,” Amy managed. Natalie, a quiet-looking girl with masses of ringlets, smiled shyly.
“Hello.” Aliya’s smile and her Caribbean accent, musical and husky, seemed to finish off Rafe. Amy had to poke him.
“Hi!”
“Hello,” she said again.
Tommy was practically bouncing in his chair. “I haven’t seen you since a long time!”
“I know. How are you doing, Tommy?” Amy and Rafe sat down.
“Good! I’m doing good!”
“And you still like your group home?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s awesome. And Sam is in jail. Did you know that Sam was in jail?” Natalie nodded vigorously at everything Tommy said.
“Yes, I did.”
“He can’t get at me. But I’m sorry that Kaylie is in jail, too.”
Amy glanced at Aliya. “She’s out. Aliya, how did you and Cai meet?”
“Surfing. I sneaked away from the studio to Malibu, and he was there. I had to sneak because they don’t like me to surf.”
Of course not. Break one of those exquisite bones, chip one of those perfect teeth, and an entire movie could be delayed.
Aliya said in her seductive accent, “I fell in the water and the board hit my head—a beginner’s mistake, really. Cai rescued me.”
Amy nodded. Cai was a rescuer—look how he continued to see Tommy—as long as it didn’t put Cai in personal danger. Like with Violet on the island. Now Cai blushed faintly, and his long fingers fiddled with his water glass. Was he still embarrassed about how they had all parted? Maybe. Yet he’d come today for Tommy.
Or maybe to show off Aliya.
But it could easily be both. Amy knew now how mixed anyone’s motives could be. Look at—
“Violet!” Tommy shouted. He half stood, shaking the table, before his face twisted in concentration. “Violet Sanderson, this is my girlfriend, Natalie Smith. And this is my friend Aliya Brandon. Natalie, Aliya, Violet Sanderson.”
“Hello,” Violet said. She kissed the tops of Amy’s and Rafe’s heads. “You all look great.”
It was Violet who looked great. Her long black hair was twisted in a high chignon. Her body looked toned and fit, kept that way by dancing in a show in New York. She’d taken the train up for this reunion. Things had gone well for Violet since the trials ended. She had resumed her own name, Jane Patterson, but Amy could never think of her as anything but Violet. Now she looked critically at Aliya, who gazed coolly back. Amy waited for the moment of recognition, but it didn’t come. Then Amy realized that of course Violet had already known about Aliya and Cai, and was refusing to act impressed.
Amy realized something else, too—Waverly knew. Aliya was the reason Waverly had deigned to join this party—not gratitude to Amy nor interest in Rafe’s medical career. Waverly hoped that Aliya could help her. Waverly had had a few bit parts in TV shows over the past year, but as the notoriety over the case had faded, so had her acting career. Amy had actually seen one of the shows, practically the only television she’d watched since her classes started. Amy didn’t think Waverly had been very good in her role. Somehow she’d seemed . . . flat. Lifeless. She—
“Waverly!” Tommy stood, again jostling the table. This time Rafe’s water glass tipped over, but he caught it deftly. “Waverly Balter-Wells, this is my girlfriend, Natalie Smith. And this is my friend Aliya Brandon. Natalie, Aliya, Waverly Balter-Wells.”
“Hello,” Aliya said.
“Hello.” Big smile. Waverly, in a Carolina Herrera dress that toned down her punk-socialite style and that probably cost as much as Amy’s rent for the year, sat down gracefully. She said to Aliya, “I’m a big fan of your work. Particularly in
Morning Light
.”
“Actually,” Cai said easily, his arm across the back of Aliya’s chair, “we were hoping to have a lunch free of industry gossip.”
Waverly’s smile became slightly strained. Amy looked at Cai: “
We
were hoping”? Like industry gossip was something he had to be burdened with too. And the proprietary way he spoke up for Aliya . . . What had Amy ever seen in Cai? Kaylie had had his number much earlier.
And yet he was so good to Tommy. Mixed motives.
Where was Kaylie? Amy’s gut tightened.
Oh, please, not another “incident”! Kaylie was out on bail. If she was arrested again . . .
Rafe was telling Cai about his experiment with guinea-pig brains. Cai didn’t look very interested, but Aliya did. Tommy was telling Waverly about Sam’s being in jail. Amy knew she should join one of the conversations—Waverly needed rescuing—but she was too nervous to speak. The waitress took their order, so absorbed in looking at Aliya that she barely glanced at anyone else. Now Kaylie was ten minutes late, and Amy reached for her cell. Although Kaylie didn’t always answer.
For the last year, Kaylie had been drifting. The island episode of
Who–You
had never aired, blocked by some sort of injunction by one of the lawyers. Kaylie was not recognized on the street (an “honor” Amy would gladly have done without). She’d had no offers of TV parts. She’d left school and worked part-time, low-wage jobs, when she could get them. Between jobs, Amy had given her money and Kaylie had hated Amy for it, and then hated herself for her own ingratitude. Two weeks ago she’d gotten arrested for shoplifting. Amy had scraped together bail, knowing that if Kaylie didn’t show up for her court date, Amy would have to leave college to make up the bail forfeiture.
And come to think of it, how did Tommy even know that Kaylie had been in jail?
“—and cut out the diseased brains to centrifuge them,” Rafe was saying to Cai. Amy poked him and whispered, “Stop it!” She knew what Rafe was doing: getting even with Cai for leaving them on the island. Cai hated grisly descriptions.
“Kaylie!” Tommy cried. “You came!”
Amy let out a long breath and turned in her chair.
Kaylie looked terrible. She’d lost weight, and her tee sagged on her. It had a small food stain on the front. Her hair could have used shampooing, although it still curled becomingly around her face. Nothing could dim the emerald of her eyes, but the skin under them was shadowed and stretched. Amy’s worst fear was that Kaylie would become hooked on some of the terrible designer drugs on the street, although so far as Amy knew, she wasn’t yet.
“Kaylie,” Tommy said, “this is my girlfriend, Natalie Smith and my friend Aliya Brandon. Aliya, Kaylie Kent.”
“Amy’s sister,” Aliya said. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Kaylie dropped into a chair, obviously determined to not be impressed by Aliya’s presence. “Hi, sis. Rafe. Everybody.”
“Hi,” Cai said neutrally. Rafe, seated beside Kaylie, hugged her. The waitress brought their salads.
“Would you like to order, miss?”
“Just black coffee.”
Amy burst out, “Kaylie, eat something!” and immediately regretted it. Kaylie hated to be ordered around.
This time, though, Kaylie surprised her. “OK. A small salad, please. When they have their entrees.”
Aliya said, “A salad is all I’m having too.” She studied Kaylie closely, and Amy grew angry. OK, Kaylie looked a wreck compared to everybody else, but it was rude of Aliya to stare at Kaylie’s poor grooming and tired face. And why was Kaylie so tired, anyway? What had she been doing?
Then Aliya said, “Actually, Kaylie, it’s you I came here to meet.”
“Me?” Kaylie looked startled, then suspicious. “Why?”
“Do you by any chance have an agent?”
“A what?”
“No? Then I can talk directly to you.” The longer Aliya spoke, the prettier her accent became, but also thicker so that everybody at the table leaned slightly forward in an effort to decipher every word. Amy began to realize why Aliya’s movie roles featured such short speeches.