Syrup

by Max Barry

  When the sunlight starts leaking through Jerry’s Star Wars blinds, it’s a surprise. We blink and look at one another for a second, trying to remember what we were doing before we were consumed by a world of Coke-drinking aliens.

  “Hey,” 6 says. “It’s Saturday.”

  we’ll be right back after these important messages

  “That’s it,” Jerry says. The screen reads: Compiling Movie: Pass 1 of 17016. “It’s rendering.”

  “We’ve done it,” I say wonderingly. “We’ve really done it.” I look at my watch. “And with twelve hours to spare.”

  “No.” Jerry is shaking his head. “Scat, I told you about this. It’s rendering. We can’t lay it onto film until the computer finishes rendering.”

  “Yes,” I say slowly. Irritably, too. “But it’s rendering now.”

  Jerry sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Rendering takes a long time, Scat. Even with computers like this.”

  “How long?” 6 says.

  “Can’t tell. Some parts take awhile, some render real quick.” Jerry points to the screen, just as it clicks over to Pass 2 of 17016. “But it’s got to do that another seventeen thousand times.”

  “Holy shit,” I say.

  “Jerry,” 6 says tightly. “How long?”

  Jerry shrugs. “Twelve hours.”

  6 loses control

  6’s eyes widen. “Jerry, that’s not good enough.”

  “Hey, guys, there’s nothing we can do. It has to render.”

  “Don’t tell me there’s nothing we can do,” 6 says. “There’s always something we can do. How can we make it go faster?”

  “Look,” Jerry says, starting to lose it, “this is it. This computer is fully maxed out doing the rendering. And it’s a fast computer. Unless you want to go buy yourselves a Hewlett-Packard V-class, this is it.”

  “How much?” 6 demands. “For a, uh—”

  “A million,” Jerry says. “Okay? A million. And even if we had one, we’d need days to get it loaded and running. Look, it can’t be done faster.”

  6 takes a couple of deep breaths. “Okay,” she says. “Okay. What’s the worst-case scenario?”

  Jerry rubs his eyes. “Well, if we’re lucky, it’ll take nine hours. It’ll probably take ten to twelve. If we’re not lucky . . .” He shrugs. “Fifteen.”

  “Fifteen,” 6 breathes.

  I force myself through the addition. “That’s eleven at night. We’re scheduled to screen at eight.”

  “That’s unacceptable,” 6 says. “We can’t stall a hall full of celebrities for three hours.”

  Jerry looks like he’s about to scream, or cry, or maybe both, so I say, “Okay, let’s calm down. We’ll probably finish in time. 6, I know this is difficult, but you just need to face the fact that this is out of your control.”

  6 stares at me, and for a moment I’m sure she’s going to argue. Then she takes a deep breath. “Fine,” she says. “I can do that.”

  begrudgingly

  In the cab, 6 mutters, “I can’t believe we just have to wait.”

  zipping along

  We’re showered, changed and at Mann’s Chinese Theatre by ten. 6 has slipped into something less comfortable but a hell of a lot more attractive: a long, sheer black dress, killer heels and tiny ear studs. She’s also wearing her glasses, and I can’t believe how sexy she looks.

  “6,” I say again, “you look gorgeous. Really.” I tug at my collar. “How do I look?”

  6 frowns at my suit. “Aggressive.”

  “Aggressive? Really?” I’m a little taken aback; it’s just a suit and red jacket. Okay, the jacket is pretty sharp. And the tie has little pictures of Uncle Sam, scowling and pointing. But they’re pretty small pictures.

  Despite myself, I’m awed at being here. I’ve never visited Mann’s before, not even to gape at celebrity handprints: the only time I’ve ever seen this place has been on TV. Today there are already a lot of people around, sweeping the sidewalk, arranging signs, roping off areas. 6 spots California in the lobby and we head over.

  “California,” 6 says, “this is Scat.”

  She’s young, blond, and even wearing a Coca-Cola T-shirt. “Hi, Scat. You excited?”

  “Just a little,” I lie.

  “You should be,” she says, grinning. “This is going to be the biggest film of the zips!”

  “What?”

  “The zips,” California says, tossing her hair happily. “You know, two thousand and zip. The ‘80s, the ’90s, the zips.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “So, are you here to help?”

  “We sure are,” I say. “Although you look like you’ve got everything under control.”

  “Ha,” California says, grinning. “Looks are deceiving. I really need you guys.”

  completion

  At three, I break to call Jerry. “It’s doing pass 12,020,” he tells me.

  “Is that good?”

  “Well, if it was linear, it’d be finished by five.”

  “Hey, great!”

  “But it’s not,” Jerry continues. “The end is loaded up with special effects, so that’ll take longer.”

  “How much longer?”

  Jerry sucks in his breath. “Maybe another two hours. But probably no more than that.”

  “So ... ?”

  “My guess is ... you’ll have this thing by seven.”

  I whoop. I can’t help it: I let out a big, good old whoop. 6’s eyes shine.

  “It’ll take half an hour to dump onto film. I’ll do it fast and dirty, but you won’t notice the quality loss in a standard cinema projection. I’ll courier it to you by eight.”

  “No, no couriers. I’ll pick it up personally. Just call me when it’s time, okay?”

  “You got it,” Jerry says, and hangs up.

  I turn to 6. “It’ll be finished.” The words sound like magic. “It’s not definite, but he thinks it’ll be finished.”

  6 nods slowly. I think she is trying to keep a smile under control. “Good boy.”

  mktg case study #15: mktg the channel

  LAUNCH AN INCENTIVE PROGRAM FOR THE STORES THAT SELL YOUR BRAND; SO THAT, FOR EXAMPLE, EVERY SALES ASSISTANT WHO SELLS A NUMBER OF YOUR STEREOS GETS A FREE STEREO THEMSELVES. FOR THIS, THEY WILL PERSUADE, DECEIVE, AND CAJOLE IGNORANT CUSTOMERS INTO BUYING YOUR PRODUCT OVER YOUR COMPETITORS’. PRACTICE THE LINE: “OUR COMPANY CANNOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE UNSCRUPULOUS ACTIONS OF A FEW RETAILERS.”

  enter

  Jamieson arrives at five.

  Sneaky Pete is with him, as is @. They stroll down the red carpet that’s still being brushed down, resplendent in their tailored suits. I think even their sunglasses match. They pass 6 and me in the lobby without even noticing us and head straight into the main theater. We watch them all the way in.

  “He needs to decide if we’re going to make it or not,” 6 says.

  I look at her. “Huh?”

  “Sneaky Pete has to make a decision.” She turns to me. “If he thinks we’re going to make it, he has to claim the glory. But if he thinks we’re not going to make it, he’ll disown himself.”

  I stare at her. “But as soon as he sees us here attending to all the details, he’ll know. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t have a film to show.”

  6 sniffs. “Sure we would. We’d be here trying to make him think we’d finished, to trick him into claiming ownership of the project. ”

  I blink. “We’re pretty smart.”

  6 shrugs. “It’s what I would have done.”

  “So now ...”

  “Now we can’t let him know we’ve finished.” She steps closer, her eyes dark. “Do you understand this? If he finds out we’ve done it, he’ll stand up tonight and call Backlash his baby. He’ll take all the credit.”

  “No way,” I say. “Oh, no way.”

  “So you see,” 6 says, just a touch menacingly, “it’s critical that we let him continue to believe we’re not going to make it.”

  “Uh,” I say, �
��and how are we going to do that?”

  “By lying.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Of course.”

  “Not to Jamieson. Sneaky Pete expects us to tell Jamieson everything’s okay regardless of whether we’ve actually finished or not, so that’s exactly what we’ll do. But when Sneaky Pete wants a private chat—and he will—we let him force it out of us that we haven’t made it.” She eyes me. “And we do this convincingly.”

  “Right,” I say slowly. “Well, I can try.”

  “You’ll do better than that,” 6 says darkly. “We’ve worked too hard to lose it to your conscience now.”

  the last meeting

  Jerry calls at six, just as night is falling. The streetlights are warming up, the traffic cops are moving the barricades into position and the early stargazers have already turned up for the best positions.

  “We’re done,” he tells me. He sounds in desperate need of sleep. “I’m dumping it to film now. Be here by seven.”

  “Count on it,” I say. “And, Jerry? If anyone else from Coke asks you about our progress, you say we haven’t finished yet, okay? ”

  He pauses. “Should I ask why?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” Jerry says.

  I find 6 with California in a corner of the lobby and relay the news. “Good,” 6 says. “That’ll give us time to finish with Jamieson.”

  I start. “Jamieson?”

  “He wants to see us. To make sure everything’s under control.” She shrugs. “He’s still worried, of course. So we’ll sit down and reassure him. We’ll be finished in time for me to go collect the film from Jerry.”

  “You?” I say, surprised. “Don’t you want me to go? So you can stay and, uh, keep things under control?”

  “No,” 6 says, “you stay here. I can’t control everything, right?”

  “Uh, 6,” I say, “you don’t have to begin your journey of self-discovery right now, okay? How about I go get the film?”

  “Why?”

  “Well ...” I swallow, then lean close to 6. “What if Sneaky Pete wants to talk to me?”

  “He probably will. You just do what we talked about.”

  “Right ...” I shift from one foot to the other. “You know, 6, I don’t feel real comfortable about this. What if I can’t fool him?”

  “Then we’re fucked,” 6 says. “But that won’t happen. Right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, not feeling sure about this at all. “Right.”

  mktg puffery

  Jamieson gathers us inside the actual cinema, strung along the front row like late patrons. He separates 6 and me from @ and Sneaky Pete as if it was intentional.

  “Team,” Jamieson says, “I want to say what a great job you’ve all done to get us to this point. This is going to be a sensational event. It’s a credit to all of you.”

  I blush modestly. 6 says, “You’re too kind, Mr. Jamieson.”

  “Not at all,” he says, then pauses. Not for long. It’s a tiny, tiny pause. But it’s long enough to telegraph that he’s about to get to the real reason he wanted to see us. “So how does the film look? In its finished form?”

  The question isn’t directed squarely, but I think it’s fair to assume that it’s meant for 6 and me. It’s interesting, then, that @ jumps in first. “We haven’t actually seen the finished product,” she says, arching an eyebrow at us. Definitely not as good as 6’s. “I understand that Scat and 6 were too busy to send us a copy. And we haven’t been able to get in contact with either of them for the past two days, which is why, regrettably, we weren’t able to show you a preview as we originally intended. But I’m sure Scat and 6 would have reached us if there was any problem?”

  “Of course,” 6 says. “The film is... finished. Of course.”

  I glance at 6, surprised at her pause, then realize that this is part of the trap. She’s being deliberately unconvincing.

  “So you have reviewed it?” Jamieson presses. “The entire product?”

  “Yes,” 6 says, more firmly now. “We’ve seen it. It’s fine. It will be a credit to the organization.”

  “Right,” Jamieson says slowly. “Good.” He almost leaves it at that, but can’t quite do it. “Are you sure? I don’t mean to go on about it, but . . .” He smirks. “This is quite important.”

  “Mr. Jamieson,” 6 says, looking shocked, “it would be humiliating for this company if we didn’t have a film to present tonight. I wouldn’t expect to put the company in that situation and keep my job.”

  “No,” Jamieson says. “Of course not. Good.” He favors us with a smile, but his lingering doubts leak through. I anticipate an urgent exchange with Sneaky Pete as soon as we leave. “Then let’s do it, team. We’ve got Hollywood arriving here tonight.”

  6 leaves

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” I ask her anxiously.

  “Scat,” 6 says, exasperated. She slides into the cab. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Okay,” I say nervously. I watch the cab until it’s lost in traffic.

  stargazing

  “Hey!” someone in the crowd shouts. “There’s Bruce Willis!”

  The Premiere

  fear

  I just know he’s going to find me.

  It’s not that I’m scared of him. I mean, okay, maybe a little. But I’ve gone up against him before, and even beaten him once. This, however, is different. Back then, I had the truth on my side. Now I have to lie.

  I don’t know if I can do it.

  I mean, I don’t have a moral problem with it. If there’s one person in the world I wouldn’t mind lying to right now, it’s Sneaky Pete. But the thing is, I’m not very good at lying. I’ve never been good at it. It’s like acting, and, like I said, I’m a terrible actor.

  I can’t believe Sneaky Pete won’t see through me in an instant.

  So I hide.

  show business

  I ask California what I can do to help, and out of the long list of possible jobs, I pick the one that takes me up into the projection room. The projectionist, a little bald man named Harold, is already there, checking over the equipment, so I engage him in a long and slightly inane conversation about the history of film media. I figure I only have to hide for an hour, and then I can go downstairs and find 6 and we can tackle Sneaky Pete together.

  As the minutes tick by, the rising noise level signals the growing accumulation of stars, press and Hollywood powermongers. At a quarter to eight, I can’t stand not knowing who’s out there any longer, and, figuring 6 should be back by now, I escape my conversation with Harold to head back down to the lobby. The band—which is actually a mini-orchestra—is playing the theme song from Backlash, and the bass reverberates through the staircase, mixing with four dozen Hollywood conversations. It sounds really exciting, and I probably hurry down the staircase just a little too quickly.

  He catches me halfway down.

  lies

  I freeze.

  For a long moment, he just stares at me. His sunglasses glint dangerously. “Scat,” he says softly. “How are you?”

  Again, I have forgotten his voice. It’s like an oiled massage. It’s a voice to open your soul to. If he wasn’t already worth upward of three million dollars, I’d suggest he consider a career as a telephone counselor.

  “I’m good,” I say. My first lie! I’m off to a great start. I’d feel pretty pleased, if I wasn’t nervous enough to wet myself.

  He cocks his head at me.

  “No, really,” I say. “I am good. Very good. Really.” And that’s just pathetic. Ruined all my early work. “How are you?”

  “I am concerned,” Sneaky Pete says, “that we may not have a film to show tonight.”

  “Oh!” I say, in a truly humiliating attempt at surprise. “Really?” And already I’m in trouble, because I’ve forgotten what I’m meant to lie about. Was I meant to tell him that we haven’t finished it? Or was I meant to say that we have, and then, when he presses me, admit we haven’t? Yes, I
think that was it. But the long seconds it’s taken me to get this straight haven’t done wonders for my credibility. “We’ve done it,” I say, a little breathlessly. “Yes. Film finished.”

  “Where is it?” It’s a kind question. I could almost believe he just wants to help.

  “It’s—” I say, but a blond model in a shiny pink dress abruptly pushes past us. She looks around uncertainly. “Bathroom?”

  Sneaky Pete regards her expressionlessly, so I say helpfully, “Down the stairs, corridor on your right.”

  “Thanks,” she says, patting my behind as she passes.

  “Hoo,” I say, startled.

  “Scat,” Sneaky Pete says. “I need to go out in front of these people tonight and tell them whether or not we have a film for them.”

  “Yes,” I say. This much I understand.

  “If there is no film, I need to know now. I need to apologize to them.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “So,” he says. He takes a step toward me, and then, to my horror, removes his sunglasses. This is the first time I have ever seen Sneaky Pete’s eyes, and I am stunned to discover that they are beautiful. They are mesmerizing. They pierce me. “Is Backlash completed?”

  no

  “Yes,” I say convincingly.

  no, no, no

  It sounds very much as if this comes out of my mouth.

  repercussions

  He stares at me for long moments. I literally feel the blood drain from my face. I have fucked up, and Sneaky Pete can see it.

  “Thank you,” he says softly.

  He turns, snaps his shades back on and descends the stairs.