Herculanium (10 page)

“What grade are you in, Miss?”

“Twelfth grade. I’m the editor-in-chief of our school paper.”

“Thank you for your question. I love your last name, by the way. How will this affect my career? I’m basically promoting the station off-season. We’re shooting a lot of the promos now, and they’re willing to work around my schedule once the season begins. There should be no conflict.

“Overall, this is just another step in my development as a player. I’m almost at the top of my game now and, God willing, I’ll be taking sports to another level—literally. This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, and I’m very blessed to be in this position right now.”

“Dorian Cosey, Associated Press of the Americas. How would you respond to the criticism that space is being commercialized, with you leading the charge? There’s been a lot of talk about space being only for science, and that we shouldn’t bring our problems beyond where we already are…”

“No one ever said space was only for exploration,” he replied. “That’s bullshit. Oh, sorry. You might wanna edit that comment in Post. I equate what I’m doing with the dinosaurs. If you don’t evolve, you become extinct. We always have to improve ourselves and adapt to changes, whether we control these changes or not. We’re maturing as a race, and this is the next logical step forward.”

“Jeffrey Hudson, Scientific America. I represent thousands of scientists in the world who feel that we’ve been slighted with having a jock represent the new frontier. What makes you think you deserve such an honor? Who the hell are you to represent me?”

“Funny,” said Preston, staring coldly back, “one of you scientists tried to kill me and my agent just a few months ago.”

Peryson leaned forward to his microphone. “Next question, please.”

“No, I’m going to answer this.” Preston stood up from his seat and lifted the microphone to his mouth. Max gripped his elbow rest tightly, anticipating a potentially volatile debate.

“There’ve been a lot of questions about me, about whether or not I deserve to do this. There’s been a lot of accusations and finger-pointing about this project and what it represents. First of all, I was chosen to do this. Everyone who filed an application was considered, and I just happened to come out on top.

“Do I deserve to do this? McGinnis Promotions seem to think so. Do I think so? Oh, fuck yeah. I’ve worked my ass off in the gym since grade school. I wasn’t born rich, and I wasn’t born poor. I was just an average kid who had skills with a basketball. I’ve won high school, college, and professional championship titles. I have an Olympic gold medal, more endorsements than you can shake a stick at, and a heart bigger than all you all put together.

“Why shouldn’t I do this? Why not? Why
not
me? I represent the ultimate human ideal. I am a world-class athlete, and everything I am in front of you is something I designed myself. I may not have the smarts that scientists do, but I represent the dream of every little kid that’s ever wanted to be somebody. I live a clean life, I’m a religious man, and I love my wife. And I’m also the most famous athlete this world has ever seen; just ask anyone who has my products. Now I’d put all that against anyone who thinks they deserve this more than I do.”

“Jimmy Sals, Sports Media International. Pres, putting aside all the endorsement deals, championships and media coverage you’ve received in the last five years, do you honestly think you’re the best athlete in the world right now? Are you the best this generation has to offer?”

The audience cheered and stomped their feet, recognizing the celebrity sports host as he asked his questions.

“What’s up, Jimmy?” said Preston in recognition. “Best athlete in the world right now? The best this generation has to offer?” He paused, his face expression changing from one of reflection to one of absolute delight. “Let me put it to you this way: I’ll never admit to being Number One, but I sure as hell ain’t Number Two.”

More cheers crackled from the crowd.

Max slowly rubbed his temples. Preston was never this confident before, or this blatantly arrogant.

“Have your coaches and teammates from the Sacramento Ronins given you any advice?” continued Sals. “How do they feel about your success?”

“All my coaches have been very supportive. My teammates are just going buck wild. They want to know when they can go up to space, too. Hey fellas, just be cool. You’ll get your turn.”

“Moving forward,” interrupted Peryson, making sure the forum’s time was used efficiently, “I’d like to introduce to you the newest member of our team. She’s on loan to us from KMNL News San Francisco, and she’ll be reporting the inauguration ceremonies exclusively through our partner, the World Multimedia Network. Ladies and gentlemen, Michelle Suarez.”

The ovation from the crowd felt different this time, sounding more like the deep applause for a movie star than a testosterone-driven pep rally. Preston also noticed this difference, but remained stoic as he clapped along with the crowd in support. As much attention as he’d received throughout his career, even
he
felt jealous tonight. Micky was easily one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, despite her wearing a conservative outfit. Having met with her several times, he could feel an inner strength and beauty in her character, making her already striking appearance all the more divine.

Micky stood up and bowed her head in humility, waving her hand with practiced grace. She turned and smiled at Peryson, acknowledging that he pronounced her last name with the correct Spanish accent. She taught him that voice inflection just a few days before, and was doubtful he would ever pronounce correctly.

Tonight, she was happily proven wrong.

“Ms. Suarez, my name is Emile Kingstone, with the Troubadour Sentinel. We’ve all seen the commercials, the TV specials, all the—and to be honest, sometimes ridiculous—hype this project has been given. You, on the other hand, are a reporter, and I’m sure you’ve seen your share of candy-coating and sales pitches. In your opinion, is Olympus all it’s been made out to be? Should we believe the hype?”

“Of course, you’re asking me this question in front of my bosses,” said Micky with a wink. “Is Olympus as grand as they’re making it out to be? To be honest, yes! This is a visionary project. It has great potential, and it has great risk. You can look at this whole thing in two ways. One, we’re opening up a new tourist area where people can go and vacation. It doesn’t get much simpler than that. Two, we’re taking the steps to living in space. It doesn’t get more grandiose than that. These are just baby steps we’re taking, and we need to pitch it to the world so they can join in that vision.”

“My name is Rodrigo Arguelles with the Palenque Voice, and I will be asking this question in Spanish,” said the next reporter.

Micky nodded, but then added, “Bear with me; my Spanish is a little rusty.”

“Ms. Suarez,” he proceeded in asking, speaking entirely in Spanish, “you are going to be the first Latina to go to outer space. You’ve already become a celebrity in many parts of Latin America and in Europe. With this achievement, how do you think it will influence the Latin community and its place in the world market?”

“Thank you for your question, Mr. Arguelles,” Micky responded, catching her voice as her second language came back to life. As he was asking his question, she tried to figure out where his accent came from. When addressing the Latin community, she always made sure she spoke in their specific dialect, as casual words in one language could mean harsh words in another.

“First of all, it is an honor to be associated with these gentlemen. I am happy to represent our culture to the world, to share with everyone our contribution to history. I am here not only to represent the ideals of the Latino culture, but the ideals of everyone in the world. If I can make it this far, then everyone who dreams can, too. I thank our native community for the support they have given me, because I would not have made it this far without them.”

The crowd cheered her again, this time mixed with various screams of “I love you, Micky” from both men and women scattered in the auditorium. She gleefully smiled in their direction.

“Muriel Crane of the Village Times, Ms. Suarez. I just wanted to say how wonderful it is to see a woman of your stature involved with such a monumental project. I’m sure all the women of the world are proud of you right now.”

“Thank you for the kind words. I just want to do the best job I can. Did you have a question?”

“Yes, I do. How has your new-found celebrity status affected your love life?”

Peryson laughed out loud, and Preston cupped his face with his hands in mock surprise. The other scientists on the panel either shook their heads in amusement, or rolled their eyes in disbelief. Micky bit her lip and looked around the stage, pretending to not having heard the question.

“You don’t know how many marriage proposals I’ve received,” she said, visibly amused. “To be honest, I don’t pay too much attention to it. I’d rather concentrate on my job, to do what I’m paid for. Let me just say that a lot more doors have opened, on everything.”

* * *

Max entered the reception room behind the stage shortly after the forum ended. Although it only lasted two hours, it felt much longer. He thought it went well overall, with the exception of a few “off” questions that were meant for shock value than anything else. He had a good crew of people on and behind the stage. Working with Peryson’s staff was initially challenging, they being set in their patterned ways of getting everything they wanted and not accepting otherwise. But they seemed to have Preston’s best interests in mind, although they handled Micky’s situation a lot less cordial.

She saved Preston’s life just a few short months before, and it took a lot of arm-and-neck twisting to convince Peryson that she should have exclusive coverage rights on the opening ceremonies. If it wasn’t for her, none of this would have been possible. Max felt he owed her a debt of obligation, and that this was the least he could do. As a compromise, however, Clay Smith could not be added to the project, as the World Multimedia Network already has an army of cameramen assigned to cover the event.

Preston sat comfortably in a plush sofa in the middle of the room. He seemed so comfortable and relaxed that he might as well have been wearing a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops. The scientists stood around a small banquet table full of hors d’oeuvres and drinks, continuing to chat about their work. They never seemed to stop talking about new theories about their own respective fields, something Max had curious respect for. He saw Peryson enter an adjacent men’s room in a rush, unclasping his belt and zipper before even opening the door.

Micky sat by herself in a corner and observed everyone. Despite her striking appearance, the crowd all but ignored her. Either they didn’t have the social skills to approach such a striking and intelligent woman, or they were too entrenched in their duties to care.

Max smiled. “Nice opening speech. You handled yourself well on stage in front of everybody.”

“Thanks. I’m not entirely green, you know. I’m sure I’ve logged more hours than you in front of the camera.” She handed Max a wineglass and poured him a drink.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I thought you looked relaxed in front of a potentially hostile crowd. I especially liked the reference to your community, about them helping and supporting you.”

“Yeah, well, about that,” she said with a shrug, “I just threw that in to score brownie points. Until all this happened, I was never recognized by my own community. I was either too white for the Latinos, or too brown beret for the Anglos. Either way, I was always walking a straight line between acceptance and denial. I got fed up after the first few years, so now I’m just out for myself.”

“I know what you mean,” Max empathized. “I never got recognized for anything either, at least until after I became a public figure. Then everyone and his brother came out of the woodwork.”

“So you’re brown like me?”

“Yes, I am. I think that’s why we get along so well.”

They raised their glasses and gently chimed them together in a toast.

Micky nodded her head in Preston’s direction. “Is it just me, or is he changing before our eyes?”

“You notice it, too?”

“Max, I don’t really know the guy. But he seems to be a different person from when I first met him.”

“Well, he’s my best friend, and I’ve known him a long time.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that…”

“Don’t apologize. You’re not the only one to tell me that. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think he’s starting to believe his own hype. He’s still the same wonderful guy, but there’s a swagger to his walk now. He treats people differently.”

Max tilted his drink high and stared at his best friend through the bottom of the wineglass. “Or it could just be us. No crime in being confident.”

“Course not,” echoed Micky. “But then again, you and I aren’t making over a billion dollars in endorsements like he is. I don’t think we should be worried just yet.”

“Our concern won’t change anything. If you haven’t noticed, we’re just peripherals here.”

“I’ve known that from the get-go, sport. But from my point of view, I owe you big-time. I don’t know how to thank you for everything.”

“It was the least I can do, Micky. We should be thanking
you
. Without you, none of us would be here right now toasting and schmoozing. I’ve watched you. You’re a real person.”

“I just wish Preston would thank me for saving his life.”

“He hasn’t done that yet?”

“Nope. I guess he doesn’t have the cojones to admit weakness. I don’t care about recognition, but where I’m from, saving a life at least merits a thank you.”

“You want to know something? I don’t even know where I am in all this. I’m just a man hiding in Preston’s shadow, and even in there, I get lost.”

“Don’t feel bad, Max. I’m here for you.” She nudged his arm with her fist. “We’ll have each other’s back, okay?”

“Deal! Glad to see I’m not the only one lost here.”

“We’re just along for the ride. At least we’re aware enough not to lose perspective. But we do deserve all of this, not just him.”