Again, Dangerous Visions

by edited by Harlan Ellison

  "Cal, baby," Carmine continued, "Art suggested that I call you in here today for a little conference."

  Public execution? wondered Randall.

  "It's like this," said Carmine. "KNBS-TV has one of the best equipped, best staffed, most competent news teams of any station in the metro area—in fact, we probably have the best news department. Of course, Cal, the credit's got to go to you for doing such a tremendous job reorganizing the staff and lifting it to where it is now. Naturally we're looking forward to seeing you keep up the good work."

  "The point is, Mr. Randall," interjected Hedley, "the good work is going to have to be accelerated. The Network has closely studied your operation here at KNBS and we generally agree with Mr. Carmine's evaluation of your news staff. Unfortunately an external factor has entered the situation. Are you aware of this station's present rating figures, Mr. Randall?"

  SHOCK CUT TO:

  Naked, the figure of the girl lay motionless. Tico's rough hands pressed heavily against her shoulders and she felt the gravel bite into her back. Carl and the third man stood above her, panting.

  "Man, this chick's got a real hang-up about losing her clothes," Carl said. "If I had to work this hard to undress my old lady I'd be too tired for anything else."

  "Too tired now?"

  "Hell no." Carl kneeled and unbuckled his belt. "Now relax, baby. This'll be a groove." He touched her hip.

  "Christ!" Carl screamed in agony and toppled onto his side on the rough pavement. His body doubled over, he retched in the darkness.

  The third man laughed. "Keep hold of her shoulders," he said. He looked down at the girl. "You're a real tiger, aren't you baby. Looks like Carl's going to have to hold your legs when he figures out how to breathe again." His voice was flat, emotionless. "Sorry you did this, baby. I mean it was just going to be good, clean fun and games. But now it's going to be something else, chick. Really something else."

  Overhead, the voyeurs.

  DIRECT CUT TO:

  "The rating figures?" I knew it, Calvin Randall thought. Those goddam ratings. "More or less," he said.

  "Let me refresh your memory, then," said Hedley. "As you are no doubt aware, our new rating system is quite reliable. The electronic equipment we have installed in our aircraft and trucks is quite accurate in detecting and measuring the small amounts of radiation emitted by each and every television set in the city. We can depend upon the computer-evaluated interpretation of this data to get a very clear picture of where we stand in the ratings competition. I'm sorry to say that this station has consistently fallen below par in its averages over the past few months, particularly during the time-slots allotted for news broadcasts."

  "And does the Network have a solution?" asked Randall rather stiffly. Other than firing the news director? "Do we know exactly why KNBS has fewer viewers during our news-shots?"

  "Yes," said the Network man. "NBS Audience Analysis has discovered what they are confident is the root of the problem."

  "I'm sure Cal would be interested in hearing about their analysis," Carmine interjected. Hedley shot an annoyed glare at the Program Director.

  "It's relatively simple," continued Hedley, "and it is something I truly regret having to say." The Network man's voice took on a distinctly paternal tone, a bit scolding. "Mr. Randall, the Network feels that your news department here at KNBS has been letting the viewing public down."

  Randall was startled. "Letting them down? My God, we've broken our necks getting the most comprehensive news coverage possible."

  "But you have still failed. We have failed," said Hedley. "Let me offer two cases in point. If you will, please recall last November when Congressman Coghill was so tragically murdered. You may remember that Channel 34, as it happened, was on the scene taping the final seconds of the Congressman's speech when the fatal shot was fired. Thirty-four was the only major station present. As a result, they presented the viewing public with a videotape of the assassination a full half-hour before any other metropolitan station could assemble a special newscast. We were one of those other stations. By falling down so badly in our coverage of the tragedy, we did our public a disservice.

  "Another case I might mention was that unfortunate disaster at Los Angeles International when that 737 liner exploded on takeoff. By coincidence it was being filmed by a Channel 34 crew engaged in doing promotional shots for an airline. Because of this chance circumstance, Channel 34 was able to beam live, vital coverage of the catastrophe to the public almost immediately. KNBS crews, however, did not reach the area of the crash until minutes after Thirty-four had already aired their first comprehensive report.

  "What I am trying to illustrate by these examples, Mr. Randall, is that this station must now make an increased effort to keep abreast of the very immediacy of the news. This is certainly not a problem revolving solely around audience ratings. You must realize that we are licensed by the Federal Communications Commission to broadcast in the public interest. In the public interest, Mr. Randall. Our license obliges us to keep that duty always in view; indeed, obligates us."

  "That's all well and good," said Randall. "But the practical aspect of what you're describing depends a lot on the breaks of the game. My staff has a conscious dedication to covering as much news as quickly and comprehensively as is humanly possible. But we can't tell the future and figure out where to assign teams to catch the news as it happens. We're just not—" Randall searched for a word "—not fortune tellers."

  "Admittedly," Hedley said, "we cannot foresee the future. But on the other hand, neither can we talk about 'the breaks of the game.' The Network feels that competent news reporting cannot afford to deal in such imprecise concepts. That is for the past. This is 1980, and the key word now is professionalism."

  Wasn't it always? Randall thought.

  "That's right," said Carmine. "Professionalism. The Public Events Department at the Network has been doing some fine work on this. They've really come up with something exciting, Cal; what I believe are the freshest and most radical innovative concepts in news coverage I've ever seen. Mr. Hedley and I want to bat them around with you." He picked up a yellowed newspaper clipping from his desk and handed it to Randall. "Here," Carmine said. "Read this first."

  Less than an hour later, Calvin Randall, News Director of KNBS-TV, resigned his position. Two hours later, he was very drunk.

  DIRECT CUT TO:

  Sweat flowed and dripped from the florid little man who was mayor of Carroll, California. In the everyday real world he was the owner of a hardware store. Now he cowered shaking in his leather chair in the Carroll City Council chambers. He was stripped of everything that seemed to him important: his clothes, his dignity, his courage.

  "What has this town ever done to you and your friends?" he pleaded.

  "Nothing," answered the mayor's black-jacketed warden. "Nothing but exist."

  "But why us? Why Carroll?"

  The mayor's captor grinned wolfishly, his dark glasses glinting above bared teeth. "Why not, man?"

  DIRECT CUT TO:

  The rest of the team was assembled in the KNBS briefing room when Barney Chandler arrived. The team director, Mike De La Ree, was speaking as Barney seated himself.

  "Remember that this is a major coverage operation," said De La Ree. "There'll be three mobile crews placed at strategic positions through the town. They'll use hand-held Sony SonoVid units. Chuck"—he gestured at his assistant—"Chuck and I will be back at the chopper with the monitor equipment. Everyone will be plugged into a central radio link." He checked his watch. "Okay, we're behind schedule already. Let's move out. I'll finish the briefing with you individually in the copter."

  The men scrambled to their feet and began picking up equipment cases.

  "Hey, Chandler," called De La Ree. "When did you come in? I think you missed out on the first part of the briefing. Get Parker to fill you in while you're getting your gear."

  "Okay," responded Barney, unclipping his SonoVid from its rack. "Parker, what gi
ves? How come all the big rush?"

  Parker's sandy eyebrows rose and he shrugged his thin shoulders. "Beats me, Barney. De La Ree's been pretty close-mouthed about the whole operation. Apparently there's some kind of cycle gang running around in the hills out west of Barstow. I guess they're hitting a town tonight and we're going to take pretty pictures of the mess."

  "Oh great," said Barney. "An all-nighter. Ella's going to kill me."

  DISSOLVE TO:

  TEASER

  "Carroll, California, high in the Santa Mira Hills west of Barstow, was attacked tonight by a rampaging motorcycle gang.

  "Hi, this is Irvin Conley. I'll have a complete report on this and other late-breaking events from around the Golden State at ten tonight on the Enerco Ten O'Clock Report."

  DIRECT CUT TO:

  Slowly and nearly silent, the dirigible swam across the smoggy sky. From the pods of sophisticated equipment freckling the airship's belly, electronic fingers reached down and precisely measured the tiny amounts of energy radiated by each of the millions of television sets scattered through the sprawling city. Telemetry relayed each bit of information to a computer miles to the north. Machines and men teamed in the attempt to read the composite mind of that mythic figure, the average televiewer.

  "It's incredible," the night-man at the computer center muttered to himself. "Eighty-seven per cent of the sets in the whole city still on at midnight—and more than ninety per cent of those tuned to one station." He scanned the read-out card again. The numbers hadn't changed. "The KNBS brass'll go out of their skulls when they see these figures."

  DISSOLVE TO:

  "Violence headlines the news tonight.

  "Good evening. This is Irvin Conley with the Friday edition of the Ten O'Clock Report. I'll have news for you from around the state of California right after this word from Enerco, the kerosene fuel that keeps your turbine humming like a top . . ."

  DISSOLVE TO:

  The dim light from the monitors washed the color out of De La Ree's face. His gaunt features evoked the image of a specter crouched over scenes from hell.

  "Two, pull back to cover the whole crowd by the bar. Now pan up to the broken windows. One, get ready to cut in with a close shot of the looters." De La Ree's voice was level and professional. "Three, move to the east edge of your position. Look for an alley below and to your left. There should be some action soon. Switch in your starlight scope; I don't think there'll be enough available light from the burning stores."

  Three was the designation for Barney Chandler's SonoVid unit. Parker and Barney crossed to the east edge of the roof. The Farmer's Bank of Carroll was solidly constructed of brick—it wouldn't burn. Barney looked down and to the left as De La Ree had ordered.

  "Dark as sin," Barney said. "I'll switch on the scope." The four figures in the alley below sprang into sharp relief in the starlight scope's eyepiece. Barney violently drew in his breath.

  "Mike," he whispered into the throat-mike. "You sure you want us to shoot this bit in the alley?"

  "Hell yes," returned De La Ree from the KNBS copter. "Shoot everything—they'll edit it back at the studio."

  DIRECT CUT TO:

  Calvin Randall, one-time KNBS News Director, nursed his drink in morose silence. He had been conserving a steady procession of drinks for almost a day now. Calvin Randall was worried about his future.

  You should have gone along with Carmine, he thought wryly. Stayed with a young station on the make. Stayed on the make yourself. In six months that station will be the highest-rated channel in L.A.

  The TV above the bar was tuned to KNBS. So were most of the television sets in the Los Angeles area. Other stations had rushed teams to Carroll; millions of feet of tape had whirred through cameras and recorders. Everyone had beautiful shots of the aftermath. But only KNBS had footage of the real thing; the actual events as they were occurring. The fires, murders, lootings, rapes.

  The men and women seated on either side of Randall watched the screen as though hypnotized. Their eyes reflected the flickering shadows of the television. KNBS was running an in-depth report on the rape of Carroll, California.

  "My God," the man on Randall's left hoarsely whispered. "How can they show pictures like that?"

  Inside Randall a delayed explosion found release. He jumped to his feet. His arm flailed against his glass, smashed it to diamond tears scattered across the bar.

  "Because you bastards watch them!" he screamed. He turned and rushed blindly for the door.

  DISSOLVE TO:

  CLOSE SHOT—IRVIN CONLEY

  " . . .and now the news.

  "One of the most brutal dramas in the history of California was played out tonight in the sleepy little town of Carroll, high in the Santa Mira Hills west of Barstow. Carroll is customarily a quiet agricultural community of a thousand inhabitants. This evening the summer calm was shattered when a roving gang of black-jacketed motorcycle toughs, estimated to number at least three hundred, invaded Carroll. Preliminary reports from the scene indicate extensive looting and bloodshed. KNBS airlifted a complete news team to Carroll tonight and is on the scene. Here now is correspondent David Parker with an exclusive report videotaped earlier this evening . . ."

  SHOCK CUT TO:

  They finally left her there in the alley. She didn't note their leaving. She was incapable of that now. The girl never saw the monitor light of the distant SonoVid wink out, never heard the mechanical purr click off. She lay motionless in a swell of pain, hardly breathing. For a brief minute her mind swam close to consciousness. She moved her hand and was vaguely aware of the blood dappling her legs.

  DIRECT CUT TO:

  CLIPPING (YELLOWED) FROM LOS ANGELES TRIBUNE-OBSERVER,

  JULY 28, 1966

  SET ON BROAD MAHOGANY DESK-TOP

  CAMERA MOVES IN:

  Rumbles for Rent?

  Los Angeles (UniPress) An unidentified spokesman for a major television network today revealed his organization last week was offered "the inside track" in covering the activities of a notorious California motorcycle gang. A man purporting to be the gang's "press officer" approached Hollywood representatives of the network July 13 with the proposal that in exchange for an undisclosed sum of money, the gang would create a "rumble" in any small town the network chose. For its money the network would receive exclusive photographic coverage of the event.

  The unidentified network spokesman stated: "We turned down the offer, of course. It was never treated as a serious proposal by any of the network management personnel. If the self-appointed "press officer" were quite sincere in proffering his offer, then his proposition is a deplorable commentary on our times. If he were attempting some sort of hoax, then his effort was in the worst possible taste."

  The network spokesman stated further that the man's description has been turned over to Los Angeles County authorities for possible investigation.

  DIRECT CUT TO:

  MONTAGE:

  The Personnel Director was kind, but firm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Randall, but I'm afraid that KNBS cannot see fit to rehire you in any capacity." The Network was not, however, without a sense of largesse. Don't rock the boat, Cal. We'd hate to put your name on a blacklist.

  "Tell your brother to shove his car-peddling job," Barney told his wife in the morning. "I'm sticking with KNBS. News reporting's gonna be a job with a future."

  A still form, white against the darkness of the alley. Not dead yet, but waiting. Hoping.

  MATCH DISSOLVE TO:

  The plastic flash of capped teeth. Feral, somehow. The television-blue shirt. The pleasantly deep baritone.

  " . . .and those are the latest stories currently making headlines in the Golden State. From behind the Enerco News Desk, this is Irvin Conley saying good night, and have a good weekend."

  FADE OUT:

  Afterword

  "Ten O'Clock Report" is a story about prostitution. I was angry when I wrote it and I become angry each time I read it again. I am angry with the vast majority of good citi
zens who sell out their souls for their particular messes of pottage, be they money, prestige, emotional titillation, or whatever. I am angry with everyone who submits peacefully to having his mind seduced by the vast-scaled rotten things that pervade our society. Further, I am angry with all you people who don't even attempt to do anything about those aforementioned rotten things. And that includes me. After all, all I did was to write the story.

  No, I don't have a thick, black beard and dwell sullenly back in the hills in a cave. My beard is brown and scraggly and I live out in the world, just like the rest of you. But I have worked as a broadcast newsman and have had experiences with events such as described in "Ten O'Clock Report," although on a much less spectacular scale. And I have grown up as a member of the generation which has seen America adopt violence as a spectator sport second in popularity only to sex (sex as a spectator activity doesn't turn me on either, but that's a theme for another story . . .).