by Jay Martel
‘Del. I was wondering if I could have a quick word with you.’
‘OK.’
‘In private.’
‘That would be great,’ Del said, looking past Perry to someone more important at the party – namely, everyone. ‘But I have a lot of guests to say hello to. Maybe later on.’
‘I think you’ll be interested,’ Perry said. ‘It’s about saving the Earth.’ The other guests exchanged glances – Perry’s ‘crazy guest’ credentials had officially been presented. Del, however, seemed as composed as ever. He put his daughter down on the grass. She ran off, joining other children in chasing an actor dressed as an angry smokestack with a moustache. The smokestack, Captain Carbon, was an important teaching tool in the Little Greenies program.
Del watched the laughing children scamper away. ‘Well, I guess I have to hear the rest now, right?’
Perry took a breath. ‘This is going to sound crazy, but it’s absolutely true.’ He struggled to find the right words. ‘The Earth is going to be destroyed in a matter of days unless we become better people – unless we help each other more than we’ve ever helped each other before.’
Several guests rolled their eyes. ‘Hello security,’ the woman with the bracelets said in a low voice. But Del didn’t blink.
‘I’m into that,’ he said affably.
‘Would you consider giving more of your money to charity?’ Perry asked.
Del gave a folksy laugh. ‘Well, Perry, do you know how much we’re raising at this benefit? Three million dollars. And that’s going to keep the Little Greenies in greenbacks for years to come.’
‘I mean serious money,’ Perry said. ‘You have forty billion dollars. I know you give a lot to charity by normal standards, but come on. Three million? Thirty million? It’s nothing to you. You’ve got houses, planes, boats, and none of them are going to do you any good if the Earth ends.’
The guests now openly glared at Perry. The bearded man stepped between Del and Perry, lowering his large head into Perry’s face. ‘What gives you the right to be so rude to our host?’ he seethed with resplendent brie breath.
‘Now, now,’ Del said, pulling him away from Perry. ‘Maybe Perry’s right. Maybe I don’t give enough to charity. We should all give more, right?’ The group nodded noncommittally. ‘I’ll definitely give it some thought, Perry. Thank you.’ He patted Perry on the back and began to walk away. But Perry’s hand darted out and grabbed the billionaire’s arm. Del whirled around, stunned – no one had touched him like that since he’d acquired his first TV station.
No one was more surprised than Perry. He’d never been this aggressive with his most obnoxious student, much less the tenth richest man in the world. ‘It has to be now,’ Perry said. He dug the benefit invite out of his pocket. ‘Look. I spent ten thousand dollars on your benefit today. That’s 35 per cent of my annual income. Will you agree right now to give away 35 per cent of your income?’ For the first time in their interaction, Del seemed speechless. He shook his head for a moment, then laughed.
‘You know what?’ he said. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘Right now?’ Perry said.
‘Right now,’ Del said. ‘Follow me.’ Del started off towards his mansion. The bearded man put a hand on Perry but Del waved him off saying, ‘It’s fine, it’s fine.’
Perry followed the billionaire across the lawn through smiling faces that turned towards Del like flowers following the sun. Del opened a side door of the great house and gestured for Perry to enter.
Perry stepped into a vast room that defied easy classification. It appeared to be part study, part den and part games room, containing a billiard table, a widescreen TV, pinball machines and a kitchenette – in other words, it was a room that belonged to someone who had way too much money. As Del closed the door behind them, Perry studied the wall of vintage movie posters and noticed one for his favourite movie, Casablanca. He turned back to Del, saying, ‘Nice pos—’ and this was all he could get out before a foot slammed into his stomach. He gasped for air and crumpled to the floor.
Del kicked off his sandals and pulled his shirt off, revealing a hairless, perfectly muscled torso, the product of a full-time staff that included nutritionists, dietitians, personal trainers, martial-arts instructors and cosmetic laser technicians. He met Perry’s stunned look and said, still smiling, ‘Get ready to die, bitch.’
CHANNEL 21
A VERY SPECIAL EPISODE
Perry was naïve about multi-billionaires. When Del Waddle seemed to respond to Perry’s arguments for giving away his money and saving the world, Perry thought, with some vanity, that the rich man was in fact responding to his arguments. Amanda, however, was not so naïve. Having worked at Channel Blue for several years, during which she’d had ample time to study Earthle behaviour with some objectivity, she knew that Del was lying and became instantly concerned when he escorted Perry towards his house. She also noted that Del Waddle’s security detail, a dozen hulking former Special Forces commandos squeezed into dinner jackets for the occasion, were now shadowing Del.
She gave up her pursuit of Nick Pythagorus and turned back to Perry, who she could see walking with Del across the great lawn, a hundred yards in front of her.
‘Don’t go into the house,’ she said. ‘Stay outside with the guests.’ When Perry didn’t stop walking, she chalked it up to his usual stubbornness. ‘Stop!’ she commanded with enough urgency for the man standing at the buffet to return a second piece of red velvet cake he’d slipped onto his plate. When Perry vanished inside the mansion with Del, Amanda trotted with urgency towards the entrance. ‘Marty, what’s going on? I’ve lost contact.’
Marty sat in the control room, stirring sugar into a vanilla latte. Vermy dangled from his ear, attracted to the sweet steam that in many ways reminded it of its human host. ‘No reason for concern,’ he said. ‘I took you out of his head.’
Amanda stopped in mid-stride. ‘What?’
‘Yeah. We want him in the house.’
Amanda snapped on a pair of sunglasses. On the right lens she accessed the feed from inside the mansion, which showed Del kicking Perry in the stomach. In the left lens, Marty, with Vermy, stirred his coffee.
‘This was not in the script,’ Amanda said. ‘We did not agree to violent content.’
Marty smiled. ‘You’re too close to the material. This is what our viewers want to see.’ Amanda, on a hunch, manipulated the images in her right lens, quickly scanning through background material on Del Waddle. Because so many channels were broadcasting so much material on any given day, and no producer could possibly keep up with developments on all the different shows, Channel Blue maintained an extensive database on every Earthle. Amanda had been given the impression by Marty that this was Del Waddle’s Channel Blue debut, but she quickly saw that this wasn’t true. By examining the archives, she saw that he’d been featured in several shows, and what she saw made her accelerate her pace towards the house.
Marty watched her on one of the monitors. ‘Calm down, Amanda. Check out the ratings right now. We just passed Nebula Sluts.’ Amanda continued walking. ‘Did you hear me? At this moment, we’ve got the number fifteen show in the entire galaxy.’
‘You set him up,’ Amanda muttered, pushing her way past well-heeled guests who stared at the glamorous woman in the sunglasses talking to herself.
Marty and Vermy shrugged in her right lens. ‘We knew that it might be explosive, I’m not going to lie to you.’
‘You already have,’ Amanda said. ‘He could die in there. What happens to the show then?’
‘Anything could happen. But that’s the way it is with Blue. Anyway, it’s all been approved.’
This brought Amanda to a sudden halt. ‘Since when?’ she asked.
Marty licked his coffee stirrer. ‘Bunt to the Rescue is a mini-series, not a franchise.’
‘You have no right to make that call.’
‘I get paid to make that call, and right now, you’re the only producer in the galax
y who thinks it has legs.’
Amanda stood still, fuming. Laughing party guests strolled by her.
Marty adopted a conciliatory tone. ‘I’m sorry. I would’ve told you, but I didn’t have time to deal with artistic differences.’
Amanda resumed walking towards the house. She pulled off her sunglasses, dropped them to the lawn and crushed them under one high heel. She pulled off one of her earrings and prepared to deal it the same fate.
‘Don’t do this, Manda,’ the earring squawked in her hand. Marty’s voice had an urgency she’d never heard, and she stopped inches from the entrance into which Del had led Perry. ‘Seriously. You’re a great kid with a lot of potential. If you go in there right now, it will be over. Not just the show, Channel Blue, and Earth – I’m talking about your entire career. Don’t do it, honey. Don’t throw everything away like this.’
* * *
Perry had been beaten up a few times since becoming a star on Channel Blue, but he now realised that those rough drubbings at the hands of street toughs, prisoners and the LAPD were completely amateurish compared to what was happening to him right now in Del’s den. Perry did his best to run and dodge the blows Del rained down on him, but Del tracked him down mercilessly, cutting him off before he could get to the door or crawl under a table and beating him backwards. It seemed that everywhere he turned fists and feet rained down on him.
‘Amanda!’ he shouted. ‘Amanda, I need some help here!’
This amused Del. ‘Amanda, whoever she is, can’t help you, Perry,’ he said, landing another right hook that sent Perry sprawling over a water purifier. ‘Nor can anyone else.’
Del had always pushed himself to excel in every field of endeavour. Since acquiring his first billion, he had devoted himself to a monk-like study of kicking ass. He’d flown to Thailand and lived in a hut in the jungle to train with masters of Muay Thai. He’d spent seven months in Brazil sleeping on the floor of a one-room concrete bungalow with a dozen swarthy men to learn the discipline of ju-jitsu, which inspired Ultimate Fighting. He regularly sparred with the greatest fighters in the world, flying them in and paying them thousands of dollars an hour to beat him – though, truth be told, not very hard. All these hours of training were now culminating in this magnificent moment, when such brutality, in Del’s mind, was not only fully justified, but the only solution to the insult posed by Perry.
Between punches and kicks, Del embarked upon a running monologue to explain, in case there were any doubts, why Perry deserved this treatment. ‘You come to my home and question my generosity? In front of my guests? In front of my daughter? And grab my arm?’
Perry tried to say ‘I’m sorry,’ but even these two short words did not seem to fit between blows.
‘I am now showing you what having forty billion dollars means,’ Del said. ‘Do you know what it means?’ Reeling from the last few punches to his head, it took Perry a moment to realise that his tormentor was awaiting a response. Del snapped a quick punch to Perry’s jaw that sent sparks of pain down to his toes. ‘I’m asking you: do you know what it means?’ Perry shook his head. ‘It means that later tonight, when you’re found dead in a car at the bottom of a ravine off Mulholland Drive, no one will ask any questions.’
Perry moaned and clutched his jaw. Was this really part of the show? They couldn’t have known. Why would they have set him up for this? Wasn’t he the star of the show that was saving Earth? On the other hand, didn’t they know everything? And hadn’t Nick Pythagorus tried to warn him about something like this? What had he said? Perry’s addled brain couldn’t focus. ‘Amanda!’ he yelled.
The door opened and Perry turned hopefully. But the huge man in the dinner jacket who appeared in the doorway seemed to have no immediate interest in interrupting the proceedings. He stood impassively by the door until Del, catching his breath after another few punches, glanced over at him. ‘Well?’
The man consulted a piece of paper that looked like a note card in his massive hand. ‘Single,’ he said. ‘No connections with anyone important. Works part-time teaching at Encino Community College. Otherwise, he’s an unemployed screenwriter.’
Del turned back to Perry and smiled. ‘Even better,’ he said. ‘I might get a medal for killing you.’ He pulled back a fist and advanced on Perry, who staggered backwards into a wall and sank against it, raising his arms over his face in what he recognised as a futile gesture. He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to fall. Typical – here he was on his first hit show and it was already time for a Very Special Episode.
But no punch came.
Or... the punch had been so lethal, Perry hadn’t felt it and was already dead. He opened his eyes and peeked around his upraised arms. Del still stood in front of him, but now his face was frozen in a terrible grimace. Standing behind the billionaire – and appearing strangely serene – was Amanda Mundo. She was pulling his arm straight back while planting one of her high-heeled shoes against the small of his back. Del suddenly howled with pain and collapsed onto the floor, where he lay motionless.
The dinner-jacketed man grabbed Amanda around the neck with an arm the size of a log – for a moment, she looked like a doll being toyed with by a giant. Her calm expression, however, didn’t change. With blinding speed, she swung her right fist back and punched him square in the Adam’s apple. He made a choking, gurgling sound and grabbed at his neck. She slipped from his grasp, bent her arm and lunged towards him in a precise, seemingly effortless movement, jamming her elbow into the centre of his ribs. His knees buckled and he sprawled onto the floor, moaning.
Perry still sat with his back against the wall. ‘Remind me not to piss you off,’ he said, slowly lowering his arms. Amanda saw his face and gasped. She pulled a handkerchief from the jacket pocket of the guard, who continued to writhe on the floor, like a fish flopping on a dock, and stepped over him to Perry. Dabbing some of the blood from his face, she leaned into him and whispered in his ear: ‘Follow my lead.’
Unlike Marty Firth, Amanda believed that saving Perry’s life wasn’t inconsistent with keeping Bunt to the Rescue on the air. She had a plan that would accomplish both. She wiped Perry’s nose and said, in her regular voice, ‘I recognised you at the party. You’re Buddy, aren’t you?’
Perry stared at her, mystified. Unfortunately for Amanda and her plan, she had whispered into the ear Del Waddle had boxed moments before with a deafening blow. All Perry could hear in that ear was a loud ringing sound.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I knew I had to save you,’ Amanda continued, doing her best to prompt Perry with her eyes. ‘I was at the park. I heard your teachings.’
Perry felt like his head might explode. ‘Amanda, will you please tell me what’s going on?’
Amanda gave him a low, swift kick in the shin. ‘How do you know my name? We’ve never met before. You’re Buddy and I’m one of your followers.’
Perry rubbed his shin as tears welled up in his eyes. ‘Is this what’s happening now? You’re going to beat me up, too? Have you stopped producing the show? For the love of God, please tell me what’s going on!’ He whimpered pathetically.
Amanda sighed. ‘I was pretending to be your follower,’ she told him, dropping the ruse.
Perry was both relieved and confused. ‘Why?’
‘So the viewers wouldn’t know who I was.’
Perry nodded, understanding at last. ‘Are they still watching?’
‘I hope so. But now, thanks to you, they know I’m a producer.’
‘And that’s bad?’
‘Well, it’s not good. The whole thing looks like a set-up. And our audiences hate set-ups.’ Amanda smoothed back her hair, considering their options. From the floor, Del Waddle moaned in pain.
‘Well, if we still have a show,’ Perry said, ‘I’d like you to teach me to fight.’
Amanda distractedly shook her head. ‘No. Your inability to defend yourself is a huge part of your appeal.’
‘Ho
w did you learn to do that?’
‘We don’t have any violence in our culture, which gives us an advantage in any sort of physical combat with Earthles. We can contain our emotions in order to apply the right technique at the right time. It’s basically physics.’ Perry’s nose had begun bleeding again. Amanda handed him the guard’s handkerchief. ‘Are you OK, Mr Bunt?’
‘I was much better five minutes ago. What took you so long?’
Amanda helped Perry to his feet. ‘I had to make a very tough call. You know the parameters we’re working with—’
‘Screw your parameters! He was going to fucking kill me!’
‘Maybe. But I just broke every rule in the Producers’ Code by walking in here. We may not even have a show anymore.’
‘I don’t give a shit!’ Perry flipped off the ceiling with both hands. ‘Fuck you, you sick alien motherfuckers!’ He gave Amanda the same benediction. ‘And you too, for that matter.’ He took a step towards her and nearly teetered over.
Amanda steadied him against the wall. ‘I had no idea that Del was going to try to kill you.’
Perry regarded her sceptically. ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘That runt Nick Pythagorous tried to warn me, but you had no idea. What kind of producer are you?’
A brief flush of irritation passed across Amanda’s face. She took a bottle of water off a nearby table and noticed that the guard, groaning softly, had nearly succeeded in using the table to pull himself up off the floor. Amanda deftly plonked him over the head with the bottle, sending him back down. This time he lay in an inert state next to Del, who also showed no sign of consciousness. Amanda cracked open the water and handed it to Perry. ‘Nick didn’t know anything about this.’
‘Really? Well, he also told me you weren’t being completely honest with me, and based on the last few minutes, I’m inclined to agree.’
‘Drink,’ Amanda said. Once Perry had placed the water bottle to his bloodied lips, she continued. ‘This may be hard for you to understand, but there are forces working against us, forces that will do anything to keep us from producing content. Nick has aligned himself with a renegade producer by the name of Leslie Satan. Satan heads up a group that exists to destabilise productions all over the galaxy called The Movement.’