The Park (Evenstad Media Presents Book 1) (4 page)

MINUTES: EVENSTAD MEDIA BOARD OF DIRECTORS MEETING

11/13/2071

PAGE 6

N. EVENSTAD (cont.): moneymaking machine.

S. CALDER: And the worst public image we'll have ever had.

N. EVENSTAD: Not if we play it right, Sarah. You know it's
all in the marketing.

S. CALDER: And I know that marketing can only do so much.
You're talking about a game where even the winner comes out in need of therapy.
How do you think the public is going to react to that?

N. EVENSTAD: The same way they react to a car crash. They'll
watch it, and then they'll keep watching as long as possible. Which is once a
week. And the winner will be compensated a small fortune for their
participation.

M. GRAND: I don't think the psychological trauma will be all
that intense. That was one of Mr. Evenstad's key concerns when he presented the
premise of the experiment to me. I won't say that the winner, or anyone, will
come out of it in perfect mental health, but I hardly think anyone can expect
that with an experiment of this nature.

N. EVENSTAD: You see. As I've told you all several times,
I've been through the psychological ramifications of the experience in depth.
In your folders, you'll find a complete copy of Dr. Grand's thoughts on the
matter.

S. CALDER: I still don't agree with this, Niels.

N. EVENSTAD: You don't have to agree with it, Sarah. We've
taken a vote. The show will go into production. And I am personally done
humoring further discussion of this matter. There are more pressing things to
go over.

D. YOSTER: I agree. My people have gone through the current
proposal for this show and, according to the numbers that you have given as an
estimate, there's hardly any profit in this for us.

N. EVENSTAD: I had your department run the numbers as well.
And I agreed with you. Which is why I am making an addition to the initial
proposal. Online content. Special, extended footage. Obviously, we'll have
hundreds of hours of footage that we can't put into the weekly shows. But, for
a small fee, any fan can have access to any of the footage our cameras record.
I had your department run the numbers with that included, and the profits are
considerably prettier to look at, even if only ten percent of our expected
viewership subscribes to the program.

D. YOSTER: How much prettier?

N. EVENSTAD: An increase in profits of about seventy-five
percent. Possibly more, depending on our final decisions on the matter.

D. YOSTER: That is impressive, Niels. But there are much
more efficient ways of making more money on this program. I mean, the current
proposal involves acquiring a truly massive amount of empty land, one-hundred
mobile homes, and more than a years' supply of food for these twelve mystery
contestants, plus electricity and water and construction costs. And these
energy storage units. That's a six-figure cost alone.

N. EVENSTAD: I'm currently in negotiations with my brother
Frederick. When this show airs, it will be an excellent chance for Evenstad
Technologies to debut their technology. And there's no better stage than
national primetime. I believe we can use that to get a greatly reduced price on
the CESUs.

D. YOSTER: And the land? Leave alone the fact that we have
to find empty land not owned by the government, the average cost of an acre is
over ten-thousand, right now. Something has to be sacrificed, if this is to be
a true moneymaking machine, as you claim.

N. EVENSTAD: I'm sure we can find a compromise.

JOURNAL 09TINA

ENTRY 003

DATE: 1/11/2074

I can't take this crap anymore. I'm starting to see things,
cooped up like this. I don't care if it's safe, according to logic. Logic
obviously isn't working anymore. No matter what I tell myself, no matter what I
actually know to be true, there's this big, heavy ball of fear and worry and
angst and shit that just sits there in my stomach and grows and throbs.

I don't think there's any way out, either. I think this is
my life, until I die. I tried to break out, but I wasn't willing to go out
close to the edge and draw attention to myself. The medallion made a loud
noise, but I had to try. I couldn't see, but I don't think I got anywhere close
to the ceiling. I can't even see the ceiling. Probably too high up, anyway.

But I'm still stuck here, just waiting for something
terrible to happen. I'm forcing myself to eat, right now, because I know that I
need to keep putting fuel into my body. But I'm barely even tasting it,
anymore. It's like I can feel myself fraying. Right now, it's small things,
tears at the edges of my senses. But it's only going to work deeper and deeper.
Something has got to change. Otherwise I'm not going to make it out of this
hellhole intact. Of course, I still might not make it out intact, even if I can
pull myself together. Not if only one of us can survive.

ENTRY END.

JOURNAL 02CHRISTINA

ENTRY 002

DATE: 1/11/2074

In the end, it was the food that got me where I am. I could
smell it on the air. I never learned to cook. I guess it got sacrificed for my
career. Not that big of a deal, really. Except that I've spent nearly two weeks
subsisting on tap water and canned vegetables. So, I admit it, I was weak. I
smelled real, cooked food and I went for it. I was fully ready to attack
whoever it was that had it, too. Luckily for both of us, it didn't come down to
it. This Julia lady, she was willing to share her dinner with me. I'd actually
say she was happy to share, which I don't get. Unless she wanted me to eat it.
Flashing on the witch in the gingerbread cottage. Come eat my food so I can
shove you in the oven.

That's why I ate in the living room, not with her in the
dining room. She wasn't about to get anything over on me, if that was her
intention. Really good chicken, though. I'm all around impressed with this
lady. She's managing to keep her cool a hell of a lot better than I am. Which is
pretty damn scary. She's carrying on life like nothing's going on. Which means
she's got a reason to be confident. Or she's some kind of sociopath. Either
way, not things I want in an opponent.

But, so far, she hasn't tried to kill me. After I finish up,
I'm going to head to a new trailer so she can't find me. But she's already
invited me back for breakfast. I'll probably come. If it's anywhere near as
good as this dinner, I'll be more than satisfied. But I'll be keeping a good
watch on her, too.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 11SUSAN

ENTRY 002

DATE: 1/12/2074

I've set up defenses around the trailer. It's taken some
time, but it's important. I have no tools, but I've torn apart pieces of the
house to do what I could. I dug holes, made some makeshift nets from sheets,
put some things around the door. I had to go to a few other trailers, get
hinges, tear open mattresses for springs. Nothing is strong, but it will
suffice. Good enough for me to get at them with the medallion.

I want that money. Twenty million dollars. I can hole up
here and be just fine, too. No need to run about looking for people.
Eventually, they'll find me. Will replan if I run out of food before then.
Already gathered provisions from surrounding trailers. Should be able to stay
here a while. Will improve traps and alarms tomorrow. Sleeping now.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 04JUSTICE

ENTRY 003

DATE: 1/12/2074

I'm a fucking idiot. I'm letting everything get twisted
around in my head. This Desiree, I think I like her too much. Not, like, loving
kind of way or anything, but definitely something. She's hard not to like.
She's kind and kind of broken, and I can't resist someone broken. I see so many
broken people driving cab. So many people in general, but the broken ones stand
out to me. Always have, and it's been known to get me in a lot of fucking
trouble. When you get involved with broken people, things don't necessarily
turn out for the best. Not in my experience.

And that's why I'm a fucking idiot. She's so broken, she
believes in God. Honestly, how the hell can she believe in some benevolent,
all-loving sky daddy when we've all been chucked in this fucking nightmare? I
don't get it, and I just worry that she's not strong enough. And if I'm
attached to her, however I'm getting attached to her, that's a weakness to me,
too.

I'm doing my best not to let her get too close, or let me
get too close. I don't think I can afford that. But I also don't think it's
working. I keep finding myself wanting to spend time with her. I even thought
about what would happen if someone attacked her. Trying to work it out so I
could have some kind of rough escape from the whole thing, if escape was an
option. But I kept on feeling this little tug in my guts. I want to fucking
protect her. Just like I do with every other broken person I find. I try to
protect them, and that's what gets me in trouble.

You'd think I'd learn my God damn lesson.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 05CRAIG

ENTRY 003

DATE: 1/12/2074

I just about died. I'm good. I think I'm good. But I can't
really say anything for sure. I'm currently with the lady who wanted to kill
me. I think I have her trust, but it's not really an auspicious way to start
off a relationship.

I was still looking for tools, and hers was the next trailer
in line. The lights were off, so I couldn't see a damn thing. That's where the
problems started. She set up traps. Primitive traps, but pretty good,
considering that she didn't have tools. Or she claimed she didn't have tools. I
probably believe that claim, though. Haven't seen so much as a screwdriver in the
whole time I've been out looking.

So I fell in a hole. And the lights came on. I saw a figure
and I did the only thing I could think of. Closed my eyes and pressed the
button on the medallion. I could see the brightness of it through my eyelids.

The hole was shallow enough that I managed to get out, but I
didn't get away. Either she wasn't looking at the flash when it went off or she
grabbed after the sounds I was making, or she just got really, really lucky, I
don't know for sure. But she got hold of me. Threatened to burn straight
through my head. Crazy jabber or justified threat, I wasn't going to take the
risk. So I started talking. The only thing that came out of my mouth was shit
about engineering. With the lights on in the trailer, I could see some of the
traps and shit she'd put together. I started telling her how she could fix
them. I don't know. I wasn't exactly in full control of myself.

Apparently, she liked what she heard. A little. Not enough
to put the medallion down, but enough to let me go. She kept asking all these
questions about the traps. I figured it was either come up with some possible
fixes for her setup or find out what that medallion could actually do, so I
talked. It was probably an hour. She didn't say much. Very concise. But I must
have pleased her. She offered not to kill me if I could help her out. I wasn't
entirely sure that I could. I mean, no tools, if I was to believe her. But I
went for it.

So that's where I am: a silent room, sitting across from my
captor. Or ally. I'm still a little fuzzy on the exact nature of our
relationship. Fuzzy enough that I'm planning on keeping a sharpened up piece of
metal siding in bed with me tonight. Just in case. But maybe I'll be okay. And
once I get some alone time with her scrabbled together tools, I can break into
the CESU and get the hell away. At least, that's my best plan right now. Which
means I really am desperate.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 07JULIA

ENTRY 003

DATE: 1/13/2074

I'm so happy that Christina came back again. It gives me
more to cook for and I'm actually feeling pretty good. I feel useful. I haven't
felt useful since I moved in here.

Christina's finally starting to relax, too. She actually
took her jacket off for dinner, which is a big step. She looks like she takes
care of herself. Her skin is a bit of a nightmare. She probably wore a lot of
makeup. She looks like some kind of businesswoman, to me. Slacks, jacket, nice
shirt. Like she just got yanked off the sidewalk on the way to some corporate
skyscraper sort of job.

I think I could get used to having her around. I'm going to
offer her one of the other bedrooms, after dinner. She can take whichever she
wants. She's told me several times that she doesn't want to stay here. She
doesn't trust me. But lately, she's not putting as much force behind the words.
Or it's just my imagining it. I could see myself getting close to her, if
she'll actually allow it. I think she will, too. It might take a little bit of
time, a few more days, maybe a couple weeks. It seems to me that I have a lot
of time to work her down. But I want to keep her around. She makes me feel
good. Beyond the extra cooking I get to do with her around, too. She just kind
of makes me feel good. And I like that.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 09TINA

ENTRY 004

DATE: 1/14/2074

I'm so lucky to be alive right now. But I am alive, and I
have this Craig guy to thank for it. Not my stupid ass, that's for sure. I
couldn't just hole up in my house alone anymore. I was weak, and I admit it.
Rather than push through or find a way to stop the stupid, pointless paranoia,
I ran away. At the time, I guess it must have made sense. I wasn't doing well
in the house, so leave, right? Leave and run out into the huge death trap
trailer park for everyone to kill me. At least I didn't go and use the medallion
against a flutter in the wind. That kind of noise would have drawn everyone
straight to me, I bet.

It didn't save me. I tripped over a hole and didn't think
anything of it. But pulling away didn't happen. It was a snare. A painful
snare. Whoever made it stuck some nails or tacks in there. As soon as it
tightened, it drew blood. But when I fell, I didn't quite have the mental
capacity to figure that out. All I could think was shit, shit, shit, shit, get
away. And pulling like that just dug the sharp shit deeper into my ankle, which
made me panic even more.

When the lights came on in a trailer, my head cleared.
That's when I looked down and saw the snare around my leg. White fabric,
twisted and knotted and reddening with my blood. I slid back, grabbed the knot,
and pulled it loose. I saw a shadow come my way and yanked my foot out. Too
late, though. I managed to get to my feet and raise up my medallion, but there
was another one pointing in my face. The lady carrying it was a little dumpy
looking, with totally unnatural red hair. I didn't get any more than that. Fear
tends to blur things out.

I tried to threaten her, but I couldn't make words. I could
see the difference between us, and it left me in a weaker position. Weak, weak,
weak. My hand was shaking, but her medallion stayed even, aimed right at my
head.

I don't remember exactly what she said, but it meant that I
wasn't walking away. That's when I got my ass saved. I heard someone else
coming and figured one or both of us were screwed. I was leaning toward whoever
it was probably killing both of us.

But he put himself right in the middle. Him, I heard fine.
That's how it always works, I figure. No one ever mishears their savior.

"Susan, just wait."

"All but one of us has to die. I don't want to go
through you, but I will. You already did your part."

"She could help. She got out."

"Doesn't matter."

Bless him, I knew he was trying to help. But it was a snare.
Who can't get out of a snare? At least once they see it. But he didn't give up.

"You don’t know what she can do. She could be
helpful."

"Two is already too many people. I won't have
three."

I just started talking. I said anything I could. And all I
could think about were the traps that I, like an idiot, had gotten into. In the
light from her trailer, I could see things a little better. Simple things, but
effective. More snares, some crude nets made out of fabric, holes, sharp things
scattered around.

About the stupidest thing I could have done, but I started
criticizing. The couple nets strung up in trees or from the eaves of the
trailer were easy to cut or tear through. The holes weren't deep enough to do
real damage, unless someone sprained an ankle. No alarms.

That got a reaction from Susan. "Plenty of alarms. You
don't need to hear them."

Craig sighed. "Don't you think she can help us? She
already found errors that I could fix."

I hadn't. This was about as good as I could think it would
get, given the lack of any real tools. I never would have thought to make traps
in the first place. That would have been a lot better than running around like
an idiot in the dark.

Susan lowered her medallion. Kind of. It wasn't pointed
directly at my head, which I would settle for. But it would do some real damage
to my knees, the way she had it now. Enough that I wouldn't be getting away
without help. "You stay, you help fix things. We don't talk unless I start
the conversation. Leave when you want."

That was it. She left me alone. I touched Craig on the
shoulder. "Thank you."

"I don't know if I helped you."

Comforting.

ENTRY END