Screen (6 page)

Tsai
looked like a little girl who felt both indescribably scared and guilty. “You
said you wouldn’t hurt her,” she whispered. Dr. Little flung his head back and
issued a fake laugh. “Don’t be so stupid. Tell
Misha
what you’re getting in return, Tsai. How we were planning to air your TV show
in exchange. Except we’re not. Sorry, your ideas are just dumb. I guess you
were fooled too.”

Misha
blinked back tears as her eyes met Tsai’s. It had always hurt to assume
people didn’t care, but it hurt even more to be tricked into thinking they did.
Now was not a good time to cry, she realized. “Why were you looking for me?”
she asked Dr. Little. She gestured to the small group around her. “Why were you
looking for us?” She suddenly realized who “Dr. Little” really was and why he
looked so familiar to her. He was Brent McKenna, the host of the old reality TV
singing competition called “Bring It On.”

Brent
spread his arms wide and projected his voice so that everyone could hear.
“Welcome to SciTech, also formerly known as the Sacred Touch Company.” He began
to applaud. “We are the largest, most advanced biotechnology company in the
world. The big screen that you are not a fan of,
Misha
,
was invented by us years ago…pioneered by the computer programmer and
entrepreneur, Matt Stills. He was a spiritual and technological visionary and
revolutionary. We continue his vision today—toward a more unified and
compassionate world.” The employees of SciTech nodded and clapped in unison. “I
myself have been in the entertainment business for years. You may be familiar
with the multitude of shows I hosted and produced. I owe my life to the big
screen. Growing up, I was called an “ugly nerd” and ostracized at school. In
the big screen, no one could push me around anymore. I was the cool one, the
trendsetter, and I called the shots. Using my extensive background and
accolades from the big screen, I now stand as the proud figurehead for
SciTech.” He bowed to more rowdy applause.

“The
scientists here at SciTech are the most innovative in the world at running the
big screen and keeping it current to the trends. But today we stand together
facing a bit of a challenge. As the screen developed and spread across a global
audience, copycatting reached unforeseen levels. Television shows that
premiered were consistently knockoffs of previous shows. Electronic books
became dull and redundant, new authors seldom standing out. Musicians rose to
number one overnight and flopped the next week. Only five played out songs ran
on the radio, over and over again. This has all affected the economy over time.
People are not spending as much money in the virtual environments we created
especially for them long ago. We are just not entertaining effectively.”

Brent
paused to choose his wording carefully. “It seems, people, that real character
is lacking today in the big screen. The screen is becoming devoid of a real
life force, if you will. True creativity. Daring. Originality. Without these
elements, we can’t sell anything. We need character back. Don’t worry, though,
this will all change soon.” Brent gestured to the people restrained in front of
him. “We’ll be extracting character straight from you.”
      

The
group sat in shocked silence, trying to interpret what Brent McKenna’s sentence
meant. “Oh, don’t be alarmed,” Brent continued, “SciTech has been researching
the process for many years. We identified the parts of the brain that most
contribute to human character, and we can infuse the energy found there into
the screen. The whole thing is much simpler than you would think, using the
advanced technology of our day and age.” Brent beamed proudly and his face
seemed to shine like a brand new yellow light bulb. “The hard part, though, was
finding people who had enough character left to extract. We looked long and
hard. Most people were too far gone in the screen to be of any use. But not you
folks. For some reason, you’ve been bucking the system, which is pretty
annoying. Employers in the virtual world have marked you as essentially
unemployable. We’ve quarantined and examined all your virtual files.” Brent shook
his head at them. “But at least you have a stockpile of character left for us
to 'borrow,' so to speak. We’ve hand-picked each of you, you should feel
honored. When we’re through, you’ll be better adapted to today’s society. Too
much character in one individual is never a good thing. 

“Don’t
think of yourselves as special just for having character, though. Everyone in
the world has it. Some people have a larger responsibility to the world to
share with others and so they run out of it faster. Take me, for example.
Character is not unique. Using your brain waves as fodder, SciTech employees
will be able to weave your character seamlessly into the screen in real time
using mathematical algorithms and equations. It’s all a bunch of numbers at the
end of the day, that’s what is so beautiful about it. The numbers you give us
will help SciTech build a more creative platform for sculpting and enhancing
the virtual environment. As long as the audience responds once more to what
they see in the screen, we have done our job. You can thank us for having had
the chance to participate after we’re through here. And no—you won’t suffer
detrimental side-effects from the procedure. In fact, you may notice you're
new, improved, and better able to adapt to this world.”

Brent
McKenna pulled on a green lever attached to his screen and
Misha
felt a small steel dome lower loosely around her head. Around her, she heard
everyone screaming as the same happened to them. Electrical wires sprouted from
the domes and attached to screens all around the lab. The screens emitted a
soft hum of sound while the domes warmed up with electricity.
Misha’s
forehead began to feel warm and unsteady and the
screams around her began to die down.

As
streams of numbers and letters appeared on the screens,
Misha
felt her panic rising. What were they going to do? Brent McKenna was seated on
what looked like a throne, watching the spectacle as if he were at the movies.
Misha’s
brain felt softer and mushier with each passing
minute and she didn’t know how much longer she could last. Her body felt like
that of a ghost, slowly floating through the air and hovering nearby instead of
staying attached to her. She looked at those restrained around her and saw
people squirming with what energy they had left.
Misha
felt like throwing up and saw the Love Channel flash before her eyes. Rock Hard
Abs. Veggie Popsicles. Her muscles twitched aggressively in response and a buzz
took over her whole body.

Misha
tried desperately to remember what she had talked to Earl about the
other night at dinner. Her mind slowly pieced together fragmented memories of
words and images. The thing that can’t be pegged makes people scared. Who was
she while she was in the screen?
Misha
could feel the
answer on the tip of her tongue, and then it came hurtling from her throat all
at once and she screamed it out with all her might.  

“Nobody!
Nobody!” The group of faces around her turned and tried to look. “There’s
nobody in there, in that screen.
Own
who you are,
what you have, and they won’t be able to use you for it! Take ownership of what
you got. Right now! You already know how!”

Misha’s
words kept coming and she saw Brent McKenna yelling at his
lab techs and rising angrily from his throne. “Shut her up, immediately! She’s
infecting the screen, she’s infecting the virtual environment!”
Misha
kept shouting at the top of her lungs until she felt
her voice would give out, and then she strained to yell out some more. Wisps of
smoke started to rise from the screens attached to the group. The wires were
beginning to fry and the heat in the helmets covering the group was diminishing
in intensity. The lab techs were too slow in responding to Brent’s order. They
seemed to be mulling over what
Misha
had said. “Stop
her!” Brent shrieked as he started running toward
Misha’s
chair. He was within twenty feet of her when a white blur shot out in front of
his foot, tripping him and sending him sprawling to the ground. Poof panted in
Misha’s
direction and decided to finish off the job. He
hopped over to Brent’s hand and bit down hard. Brent wailed in agony and
writhed on the ground. Then Poof went after Brent's nose and was quick enough
to get away once the celebrity's face started gushing blood.

Misha
looked around her as all the lab screens simultaneously short-circuited
and died. The helmet above her head lifted as Poof ran over and jumped in her
lap. The small group of individuals around her rose from their constraints and
looked at each other in utter amazement of their newfound freedom. The
scientists and lab techs were helpless, staring into black screens that no
longer communicated with them. Brent cradled his hand on the floor and ordered
his team to do something.

A man
picked up his blue and red baseball cap from the floor and replaced it on his
head. A petite woman shivered and ran her hands over her arms and face, making
sure everything was still there. Another lady patted Poof on the head, silently
thanking him for his unexpected heroics. A gangly teenager with messy hair and
ripped jeans wondered out loud, “What now?” Silence filled the air for a moment
as they all shrugged.
Misha
turned to everyone and
said, “I guess we just keep on living. Out here in the world.”
Misha
turned to go retrieve her backpack when she heard
commotion over her shoulder.   

"Watch
out!" The man in the baseball cap blurted out in her direction. Poof
yelped in alarm as
Misha
turned and saw Brent
charging at her, his broken and bloody nose leaving a crimson trail behind him
on the steel floor. His cool attitude and control had evaporated along with the
smoke from the broken screens, and the madman that he really was twisted into
all his features. "You aren't worthy, you aren't worthy," he was
chanting with wide eyes as he closed the space between himself and
Misha
.

There may
not have been anything inside those blue pills, but
Misha
knew she had what it took inside of her. And she was ready to end this.
Instinctually, she cocked back her fist and released just in time to see it
meet square with Brent's face. He staggered back and grabbed his precious nose,
which was now fully broken thanks to
Misha
and Poof's
combined efforts. Something intangible had broken inside of Brent too and he
crumpled limply to the ground. He had given everything up. A lost soul, his
gaze lingered toward a big screen on the wall that could no longer verify his
existence for him.

The
crowd started to thin as everyone regained their bearings and exited the hall.
Misha
found an unmarked exit door and left through it with
Poof in tow. The two of them welcomed the fresh air of the world around them
and stared up at the full moon in the sky. Tree branches were silhouetted
against the midnight brightness and birds were unexpectedly chirping as if
throwing a party for a new day. The heady scent of spring rode the waves of
breeze around them.
Misha
stopped to sit on a park
bench down at the bottom of the hill and, with Poof’s help, examined her
fingers. They were all there, one of her fingernails longer than the rest.

Thank you for reading "Screen"
and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have the time, I appreciate a brief review on
Amazon!

--R.T.

About the
Author
  

R.T. Patel lived in a variety of places such as Ohio, Boston, Seattle,
France, and South Africa before finally settling down in California. She currently
resides in the San Francisco Bay Area.