Channel Blue

by Jay Martel

  He suddenly thought of Debbie Drimler, a development executive he’d dated back when he’d been successful. Debbie was pretty, smart, had a great sense of humour and, most importantly, liked him. Then, on their third date, while they were sitting in a Beverly Hills restaurant discussing spirituality, Debbie had absent-mindedly opened and shut her denim pocketbook over and over again. Perry hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but when he went to call her back later that day he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Suddenly, they were man and wife sitting at the Oscars. He was about to collect his award and she was opening and closing that damn denim purse. The world watched them wondering: How could that incredibly successful screenwriter be with that compulsive woman? And who brings a denim purse to the Oscars? And Perry hadn’t called her – that day or ever again.

  Now Debbie had her revenge: He was about to die and all he could think of was her.

  How would death happen? he wondered. The Green Room was apparently Galaxy Entertainment’s version of Gitmo, a dungeon for prisoners it couldn’t prosecute but couldn’t release. Perry swallowed hard and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. What terrible tortures awaited him before he became the latest victim of the Earth’s finale? The elevator slowed and Perry felt his heart accelerate as it came to a stop. The doors parted and he squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the blows of his jailers. Instead he heard... music. Soft, calming music. He opened his eyes to see: A pristine carpeted lobby with light green walls. The copbots escorted him from the elevator, then stepped back into it. The doors closed and they were gone.

  Perry recognised the music. It was an instrumental version of ‘Suspicious Minds’.

  A pretty young woman holding a plain white envelope suddenly appeared next to him. ‘Welcome, Mr Bunt. We’ve been expecting you. Today you’ll be playing the role of Distressed Passenger No. 72.’ She handed him the envelope. ‘This envelope contains your script. The rest of the cast is waiting for you.’ She pointed to a door at the end of the lobby. ‘Make yourself comfortable. The director will be joining you shortly to talk about your scene.’

  Perry stood frozen, unsure. The young woman smiled at him again. ‘Go right on in,’ she said. ‘And please let any of the assistant casting directors know if there is anything we can do for you.’ Perry walked slowly with his envelope through the door, stepping into a large room with green walls and green couches. While there seemed to be over a hundred people scattered amongst the furniture, there was little noise or conversation.

  Another pretty young woman, who Perry recognised as identical to the first except for being blonde instead of brunette, approached him. ‘Hello, Mr Bunt,’ she said. ‘Can I get you water, coffee or any other beverage?’ Perry shook his head. ‘Feel free to help yourself to the buffet.’ She gestured over to a sumptuous table of food set up along the far wall. Succulent fruit platters and trays of glazed doughnuts glinted reassuringly in the muted light. ‘If you’re not hungry, just have a seat wherever you’d like.’

  Perry walked slowly to the first group of couches and studied the faces of the men and women sitting there. Most were reading books or magazines, a few dozed, and a few sat staring straight ahead with expressions of tranquil anticipation on their faces. Amongst them, Perry noticed Ralph, the homeless man who frequently made him uncomfortable on his morning coffee runs. Identifying him wasn’t easy: Ralph had been given some kind of makeover. He was cleaned, shaved and wore a polo shirt and khakis. Perry took a seat on the couch next to him.

  ‘Ralph?’ he said.

  Ralph looked at Perry and seemed to recognise him immediately. ‘Hello, Buddy,’ he said. ‘Isn’t this exciting?’

  Perry wasn’t sure how to respond. ‘Do you know what we’re doing here?’

  ‘Of course, Ralph knows,’ he said. ‘Ralph’s known it for years. The aliens have been watching us. Ralph kept telling people, and every now and then these weird men in blue would take Ralph into their van and shoot something at Ralph’s brain that made it feel all fuzzy, and they’d do it again and again but Ralph would tell them, you can’t shoot nothing at Ralph’s brain on account that he’s a veteran. Ralph’s an American hero. You can’t shoot the brain of an American hero.’

  Perry stared at Ralph, trying to make sense of his blather. Ralph pointed to both sides of his head. ‘Firefight in Tikrit. Two steel plates.’ He beamed with pride. ‘Nobody can shoot Ralph’s brain.’

  Perry suddenly understood why he, along with Ralph, had been privileged with the terrible knowledge of Channel Blue. ‘After a while they just said, “OK, Ralph wins. Ralph can be in the show.”’ Ralph clapped his hands with delight. ‘Ralph can’t believe it. Ralph is First Class Passenger No. 12!’ He pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket and read from it deliberately.

  ‘God help us!’ Ralph paused for a moment, savouring the line. ‘Ralph can’t decide. Do you think it should be, God help us! or God help us!? Ralph wants to get it right. You can only say it once when the plane starts crashing.’

  Perry blinked. ‘A crashing plane?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Ralph said. ‘That’s what the whole show’s about: our flight. It’s called Flight 240. Cool, huh? Gives me chills, just hearing the title.’

  Perry swallowed. ‘Flight 240?’ He remembered that in his visit to Nick Pythagorus’ office, he had heard the boy executive discuss a flight in connection with the finale. He vaguely remembered something about an airplane crashing into a nuclear power plant.

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Do you know anything else about... the show? Anything else about what happens?’

  ‘We crash into a nuclear reactor and all kinds of people die. What’s your line?’

  Perry stared at him. Ralph motioned to the white envelope in Perry’s hand. Perry tore it open and removed a single sheet of paper. It was blank except for the following:

  DISTRESSED PASSENGER NO.72

  We’re all going to die! Yaaaaaah!

  Ralph peered over Perry’s shoulder at the paper. ‘What does it say?’

  Perry heart was pounding. ‘We’re all going to die. Yaaaaaah.’

  Ralph chuckled. ‘You’re going to have to do better than that,’ he said. ‘Come on, Buddy. This is your big opportunity. Half the galaxy’s going to be watching.’

  Perry looked around, trying to contain his panic. He slowly pulled his cell phone from his pocket. No service. He slipped it back in. He leaned closer to Ralph and spoke in a hushed voice. ‘Ralph, listen to me. Everyone who gets on that plane is really going to die.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ralph said, smiling. ‘That’s what’s going to make the show so exciting to watch.’

  Perry shook his head. ‘You don’t understand. Everyone is going to die for real. And the plane is really going to crash into a nuclear power plant. It’s all part of their series finale. They’re destroying the Earth.’

  ‘That’s cool,’ Ralph said. ‘You must have read the script. Can you get Ralph a copy?’

  Perry had to restrain himself from yelling. ‘I’m not talking about a script. They are really crashing that plane. And if we get on it, we are really going to die, along with a lot of other people.’

  By now, several other cast members were watching the exchange between Perry and Ralph. A large grey-haired man seated on the other side of Ralph pulled on his sleeve. ‘What’s he saying?’ he said.

  ‘He’s read the script,’ Ralph said excitedly.

  The man broke out in a smile. ‘How about that? How does it end?’

  ‘Everyone on the entire planet dies,’ Perry said.

  ‘Wow,’ said the grey-haired man. ‘Boffo.’

  ‘I know,’ Ralph said. ‘My mother’s going to love this. She likes all those shows where the world ends. Like the one with Fresh Prince and his dog.’

  Perry rubbed his head, trying to contain his impatience. ‘No one’s going to be able to watch it, because no one will still be alive.’

  ‘Right,’ Ralph said, smiling. ‘That’s a good one.’


  ‘I can’t believe my luck,’ the grey-haired man said. ‘Twenty years I’ve been a janitor at this cable TV company. Yesterday, I walk through the wrong door and there’s a giant slug sitting there. Next thing I know, they’re offering me a part. Just goes to show, it can happen any time. Never give up. Nearly sixty years old and I’ve got my first acting job!’

  Perry sat back on the couch, defeated.

  ‘Can I have your attention please?’ the blonde casting assistant said from the front of the room. Her voice was amplified to a perfect volume, though Perry couldn’t see any microphone. ‘We’re very fortunate to have the show’s director here to say a few words to all of you. Please welcome Richard DeLong.’

  The room applauded as a lanky man in tinted glasses stepped through the door. He wore freshly pressed jeans and a bomber jacket with the Channel Blue logo stitched over the breast pocket.

  ‘Hello, everyone,’ he said. ‘I just want to thank you all for being part of this. This is a great project and all of us at Galaxy Entertainment are very excited about it. As many of you know, Earth has been the setting of some of our most popular shows over the years, and we think what we’re doing here today will become an instant classic. Now, you’ve all been specifically chosen because of your interest in what we’re doing, and we appreciate that. So give yourselves a round of applause.’ Everyone in the room applauded, except for Perry, who watched with disbelief as the director continued.

  ‘Now, in a few moments, you’ll all be taken up to our set, the Los Angeles International Airport. Pretending to be passengers, you will board Flight 240.’ A smattering of excited applause greeted the announcement of the titular flight. ‘Once the plane takes off, remember: just relax and be yourselves until you hear the right engine explode. That will be your cue to say the lines you’ve all been given. Let’s have a quick rehearsal, OK? When I say boom, that will be the engine exploding.’

  The room filled with the sound of excited actors unfolding sheets of paper. ‘Ready? OK, here we go. BOOM!’ The room exploded in a cacophony of hysterical screaming.

  Next to Perry, Ralph shouted, ‘God help us!’ over and over again, changing the emphasis from word to word each time, while the grey-haired man next to him simply yelled, ‘Nooooooooo!’ at the top of his lungs.

  After what seemed to Perry an incredibly long time, the director said, ‘That was awesome! Give yourselves another hand!’

  After the applause died down, Richard DeLong continued: ‘Just one more thing: The plane might take longer than you think to hit the ground, so keep up that great energy even if it seems like you’re doing it for a really long time—’

  Perry couldn’t take it anymore. He jumped to his feet. ‘We’re really going to die! Don’t get on that plane! It’s really going to crash and we’re really going to die!’

  The director chuckled. ‘That’s great, I love it, but let’s save it for the scene, OK?’

  Ralph frowned at Perry. ‘That’s not even your line.’

  The brunette assistant casting director appeared next to Perry and took him by the arm. ‘Come with me, Perry,’ Amanda said. Perry turned. The woman wasn’t Amanda, but she sounded exactly like her. ‘I’m speaking through the casting bot. Follow her. I’m in the next room.’

  Richard DeLong continued addressing the room as the assistant casting director led Perry through a door and into a corridor, where Amanda waited. Perry wasn’t sure he’d ever been so happy to see anyone.

  ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘Can you get me out of here?’

  She nodded. ‘I told them you weren’t right for the part and you’ve been recast. Let’s go before Nick finds out.’

  Perry started to follow her, then paused. He looked back through the open door at Ralph, who was studying his lines while silently moving his lips.

  ‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘I need to bring someone.’

  After Perry slipped back into the green room and escorted Ralph out, the three of them hurried into an elevator. The doors slid shut and their car ascended. ‘When the doors open, go straight through the lobby to the street,’ Amanda said. ‘It would’ve been much easier with one of you. But if you act like you know where you’re going, maybe no one will notice.’

  ‘Ralph still doesn’t understand why he couldn’t do his part,’ Ralph said.

  ‘You weren’t right for it,’ Perry said. He turned to Amanda. ‘Are you coming with us?’ She shook her head. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the finale? Remember? The destruction of Earth?’

  Amanda took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘We tried. There’s nothing more I can do.’

  Perry felt his pulse throbbing in his temples.

  ‘Ralph had a good line,’ Ralph said. ‘He was really looking forward to that plane crash.’

  ‘You’re not doing it, Ralph!’ Perry barked, then turned back to Amanda. ‘That’s not good enough.’

  Amanda frowned. ‘I rescued you from the Green Room. I saved your life.’

  ‘Only so I can die with the rest of the planet.’

  ‘If there were anything else I could do, I’d do it.’

  ‘Can’t you throw some switches in the control room? Anything to slow it down a little?’

  Amanda shook her head. ‘I’ve already broken the Producers’ Code. And even if they weren’t watching me, this is too big a production – they’ve been planning it for too long and there’s a lot of money on the line. We have hundreds of stations like this all over the world—’ Her voice trailed off. ‘No one could stop it at this point.’

  ‘Ralph would have been great,’ Ralph said.

  ‘Shut up!’ Perry yelled. Then, to Amanda, ‘What if I came up with another idea?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Amanda said. ‘We had our shot. Nick is running the show now.’ The elevator slowed. ‘Head to your right, through the double doors, and don’t stop until you get to the street.’ The doors slid open and they stepped out. The hall was empty. ‘Go,’ Amanda said.

  Perry hesitated. ‘What’s going to happen to you?’

  ‘They’re shipping us all back to corporate headquarters in two weeks,’ she said.

  Perry gazed at Amanda. She stared back at him, unwavering. He walked towards her until they were inches apart. Her eyes widened.

  ‘Run,’ she said. Perry looked over his shoulder to see several tall security guards running towards them. ‘The lobby,’ she said. ‘I’ll slow them down.’

  Amanda spun towards the charging copbots and yelled, ‘I have an ache in my right leg, my mouth is dry, and my breathing is irregular!’ The security-guard stampede stopped suddenly and the guards all stared into space, confusion on their faces. She turned back to Perry and Ralph. ‘Why are you still standing there? You’ve got maybe twenty seconds. Go!’

  ‘Why did they stop?’ Perry asked.

  ‘The first generation of bots were medical computers. You can still stump them with the right symptoms. Now move!’

  Perry grabbed Ralph by one arm and steered him towards the double doors. He stopped at the doors and turned back to Amanda, who, improbably beautiful in the harsh light of the hallway, stood like a sentinel before the silent mob of robot security guards.

  ‘Goodbye,’ Perry said. She gestured impatiently for him to go. Instead, he ran back to her, took her in his arms and kissed her. While the kiss lasted – and Perry had no clue as to how long this was, whether it was three seconds or a minute – every nerve ending in his body seemed to end in his lips, which felt fused with Amanda’s. For a few dizzying moments, he had no idea where he ended and Amanda began, or even if it was necessary to make such distinctions. They separated and stared at each other, stunned. Amanda, in fact, appeared as if she’d just seen a ghost. ‘What was that?’

  ‘I kissed you,’ Perry said.

  ‘I know. But... What made you... What did—’ For the first time in her life since a teaching bot had taught her to speak at the age of fourteen months, Amanda
Mundo was at a loss for words.

  ‘Symptoms psychosomatic,’ one of the guards said.

  ‘Go! Now!’ Amanda said. Her urgency was warranted: Perry saw that the guards, all repeating the words ‘symptoms psychosomatic’, had come back to life and were trotting towards them at a brisk clip. Perry grabbed Ralph and bolted through the double doors into the lobby. They raced across the shiny floor to the glass doors. The guards, now sprinting, were quickly closing in on them.

  ‘Faster!’ Perry urged Ralph.

  ‘Ralph doesn’t even want to go,’ Ralph gasped. ‘Why is Ralph even running?’

  They burst through the glass doors and hurled themselves down the granite steps to the sidewalk of Ventura Boulevard. But the blue-shirted guards were suddenly all around them, and there was nowhere to go.

  CHANNEL 14

  THE SEASON FINALE

  With the strength of a true coward, Perry flailed his body against the security guards. But the copbots were locked onto him, their talon-like grips digging into the muscles of his arms and legs.

  Like soldier ants expertly transporting two unwieldy crumbs of bread, the guards picked up Perry and Ralph and carried them back towards the entrance of Galaxy Entertainment. Perry, though exhausted, had a sudden inspiration. ‘I have a headache... and seizures... and rashes—’ He searched his brain for symptoms. ‘And a stiff neck. I have a stiff neck!’

  With no hesitation at all, the guards barked ‘Meningitis!’ and continued on.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ a voice demanded. The guards paused in their rush to the double doors. An agitated meter maid appeared on the edge of the fray. She was brown, plump and exceedingly short, resembling a Bosc pear in a tight beige uniform. On top of her head sat a brimmed cap that appeared to have been knocked to one side. A shiny nameplate on her jacket read: