Agent to the Stars

by John Scalzi

“It doesn’t,” I said. “Listen, I never do this. But do you have an agent?”

  “No.”

  “In a week, give me a call at Lupo Associates. My name is Tom Stein.”

  “I will give you a call, but not about acting,” Shelia said. “I want to know what happens to Michelle. It’s going to be hanging over me until I find out. And if I find out she died, I’m going to feel partly responsible. So you’ll tell me. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” I said, and shook her hand. “Try not to worry, Shelia. Michelle’s going to be all right. Really.”

  She smiled a little smile and walked away to her car.

  Miranda stayed in the back with Michelle. I got in the front and got behind the wheel. Joshua was already in the front with me, having driven over with the actor-paramedics.

  “You would think these things would be roomier in the front,” Joshua said. “But they’re not. I spent the last hour squashed down in the footwell. The woman paramedic had to keep her feet under her.”

  “I just met her,” I said. “She seemed nice.”

  “She was,” Joshua said. “The other guy, on the other hand, was a real jerk. Talked about his acting all the way over, and kept hitting on the woman. I nearly ripped out his throat with my teeth. Only the fact that he was driving kept me from doing it.”

  “It’s good that you think these things out,” I said, starting the ambulance.

  “Thanks,” Joshua said. “One of us has to.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I said.

  “Tom,” Joshua said. “If we can’t bring Michelle back, what are you going to do? You can’t just take her back to Pomona Valley, you know. And you can’t drop her off anywhere else. And if she dies, people are going to want to know the circumstances. What are you going to do? You don’t have a backup plan.”

  “What are you talking about,” I said, turning out of the Albertson’s parking lot and towards the 10. “Of course I have a backup plan.”

  “Really,” Joshua said. “Why don’t you share your backup plan with your studio audience, Tom.”

  “Sure,” I said. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll be fresh out of ideas. We’ll have failed. The Yherajk will have to go back. By way of compensation, you can take us back with you.”

  “I like it,” Joshua said. “It’s desperate and half-baked, but with a certain pathetic charm.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I just thought it up.”

  “I’m wondering what Miranda might think of it,” Joshua said.

  “Shhhh,” I said. “I’m saving it for a surprise.”

  We got on the 10 and headed east to the 15, towards Baker.

  “I can’t see a damned thing,” I said.

  “That’s the point, Tom,” Joshua said. “If you can’t see anything, no one else is going to see anything, either. Now shut up and turn left … now.”

  I swerved left onto an unpaved road that I would have missed if Joshua hadn’t pointed it out. The ambulance bounced as it slipped into the ruts left behind by years of ranchers’ trucks.

  “Could you try to drive a little more carefully?” Miranda yelled, from the back. “I don’t want to think what this is trip is doing to Michelle.”

  “It’s not exactly paved road, Miranda,” I shouted back. “We left that world behind about a half-hour ago. I’m going as carefully as I can.”

  The ambulance descended as I hit a ditch that wasn’t there two seconds before.

  “I think I just trashed the shocks,” I said to Joshua.

  “Tom! Carefully!” Miranda yelled.

  “Sorry!” I yelled back. “Are we there yet?” I asked Joshua.

  “No,” Joshua said.

  “Are we there yet?” I said.

  “No.”

  “Are we there yet?”

  “No.”

  “Are we there yet?”

  “Yes,” Joshua said. “Stop the car.”

  I stopped the ambulance.

  “Thank God,” Miranda said, from the back.

  “I can’t see anything,” I said.

  “You’ve said that before,” Joshua said.

  “Well, it’s still true,” I said.

  “There’s nothing to see,” Joshua said. “They’re not here yet.”

  “When are they getting here?” I asked.

  “What time is it?” Joshua asked.

  I looked at my watch.

  There was a very large whump. The ground rattled. A wave of dust pelted the ambulance.

  “Just after midnight,” I said.

  “Well, then, they should be here,” Joshua said. “And there they are.”

  The cube was exactly as Carl had described it—black, featureless, nondescript in every way except that it had just dropped out of space into the middle of nowhere.

  Miranda stopped her hovering over Michelle long enough to peer out from the back. “That’s our ride?” she said.

  “It doesn’t look like much, I know,” Joshua said. “But it gets incredible mileage.”

  “Do we just drive into it?” I asked.

  “Yep,” Joshua said.

  I started the ambulance and inched it forward, cutting the fifty yards separating it from the cube. Then we were inside.

  “When do we leave?” I said.

  “In just a minute, I’d expect,” Joshua said. “Here, let me out. I’ve got to go help pilot this thing.”

  I opened my door and got out, followed by Joshua. Joshua went over to the overhanging ledge on the other side of the cube, where the pilots were; a portion of the ledge descended and allowed him to get on. I went to the back of the ambulance and opened the doors. Miranda peered out at me.

  I nodded at Michelle. “How is she doing?”

  “Fine, I suppose,” Miranda said. “She hasn’t moved or done anything since we got in the ambulance, so all things considered, I guess that’s good.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m all right,” Miranda said. “Actually, I think this cube is helping. If it looked like an actual spaceship, I think I might be freaking out a lot more. How long are we going to be gone?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Carl was gone less than a day when he went.”

  “We should have packed a lunch,” Miranda said. “I’m hungry already.”

  “I’ve got gum,” I said.

  “Hey,” Miranda said. “Do you hear that?”

  I stopped and listened. Not far away, and getting closer, was the sound of a car.

  “Joshua!” I yelled, moving away from the ambulance. “We need to leave! Now!”

  The side of the cube tore open. A dirty white Escort shot through the hole, swerving. It was heading directly towards me. I froze, which was probably not the smartest thing I could have done.

  The driver of the Escort hit the brakes just in time to keep from squashing me like a bug. Then he turned off his engine, undid his seatbelt, and got out of the car. There was a small grinding sound as the automatic shoulder belt moved forward.

  “Sorry about that,” the driver said. “I didn’t expect anyone would be standing right in front of my car.”

  “What in fuck’s name are you doing here?” I said.

  “Getting my story,” he said. “What’s your excuse?”

  It was Van Doren, of course.

  CHAPTER Eighteen

  “Joshua,” I hollered. “We have to stop.”

  Joshua poked his head over the ledge and looked down. “It’s too late,” he said. “We’re already off.”

  “Can we throw him out anyway?” I asked.

  “Now, there’s a thought,” Joshua said. “But the answer is no.”

  “Pity,” I said.

  “It’s the problem with being a civilized species,” Joshua agreed. “No convenient falls from a great height.”

  “Hey,” Van Doren said. “That dog is talking.”

  Joshua laughed. “You think that’s weird, wait about a half hour. It’s going to be a long night, pal.” He stepped back o
ut of sight.

  Van Doren turned back to me. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m interested in hearing what you think is going on,” I said. “And as long as you’re talking, how you managed to follow us here.”

  “I got word that you were moving Michelle today,” Van Doren said. “I considered staking out the hospital, but I decided to stake you out instead. I figured that no matter where Michelle was going, you’d have to go there, too, sooner or later. You weren’t in the office this morning, so I went to your house, where I saw your car. And waited. At about four, you and Miranda left your house in your car. What’s up with that, by the way?”

  By this time Miranda had made it over to where we were. “None of your business, creep,” she said.

  “Sorry,” Van Doren said, mildly. “Professional curiosity.”

  “I doubt the ‘professional’ part,” Miranda said.

  “Yow. Feisty,” Van Doren said.

  “Tom,” Miranda said. “Don’t worry about kicking him out of this thing. I’m going to rip his teeny little heart out myself.”

  “Works for me,” I said.

  Van Doren looked at us both uncertainly and then continued. “You two went to Lupo Associates from there, and then spent about an hour there before heading to Pomona Valley. A couple more hours passed before you guys had the parade of ambulances.”

  “Why didn’t you fall for it?”

  “Because I was following you,” Van Doren said to me. “None of those people rushing out with stretchers looked like you. Or like her, for that matter. As it was, I just barely saw you when you did sneak out. That was a pretty tricky operation.”

  “Not tricky enough, obviously,” Miranda said.

  “Well, I’m more motivated than most,” Van Doren said. “I followed your ambulance to that parking lot and then waited to see what you did next. A couple minutes later you guys got back on the freeway, and from there it was just a matter of not calling your attention to me. I’ve gotten a little better at that since the last time I tailed you, Tom.”

  “I still don’t see how you followed us out when we went on the dirt roads,” I said. “There was no one else out there with us. I’d have seen your car.”

  “I followed you quite a ways back,” Van Doren said. “And I killed my lights.”

  He pointed to his car. His parking lights and brake lights were shattered and broken. His headlights were fine, but then he could just turn those off.

  “Nice,” I admitted.

  “Yeah, well, it’ll probably be the last time they let me use a company car, anyway,” Van Doren said. “I just about wrecked it on these dirt roads. Between that and having this car towed from when you kidnapped me, Tom, they’re not going to give me the keys again.”

  “You’re breaking my heart,” I said.

  “That’s how I followed you here. As to where here is, and what’s going on, I have no clue. I assumed this building was some sort of weird clinic.”

  “Building?” Miranda said.

  “Didn’t you feel the thump, Van Doren?” I said. “You didn’t see this thing before you got to it?”

  “I felt a tremor, sure,” Van Doren said, slightly confused. “So? This is southern California. We have tremors all the time. It didn’t feel like it was close by. And no, I didn’t see this place. It’s black. I saw your tail lights disappear and I just followed you in.”

  “It didn’t strike you as odd, the way you came in?” I said.

  “I came in the same way you did,” Van Doren said.

  “Wow,” Miranda said. “You’re just totally clueless, Van Doren.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Van Doren said.

  “She doesn’t mean it as an insult,” I said. “She means it literally.”

  “I’m not following you,” Van Doren said.

  “Joshua,” I called.

  “Yo.” He poked his head over again.

  “I’d like to show our friend here exactly where we are,” I said.

  “No problem,” Joshua said.

  The cube disappeared. The Earth hovered below us, the moon off to one side.

  Jim Van Doren screamed higher than I had ever heard a grown man scream before.

  “I think we have some sedatives back in the ambulance,” Miranda said, after we had Joshua retint the cube.

  “Nah,” I said. “He maintained bladder control. He’ll be fine.”

  Van Doren leaned on the side of his Escort. For some reason he had a death grip on his radio antenna. “Holy shit,” he said.

  “I remember having that very same reaction once,” I said.

  “Are we really in space?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” I said.

  “What the hell is going on?” Van Doren asked.

  “Jim, remember that time in my car, when you asked me to tell you what I was up to?”

  “Sort of,” Van Doren said. “I’m not thinking too well at the moment.”

  “Try,” I said. “It’ll help.”

  Van Doren closed his eyes to concentrate. “You told me that you were doing something with space aliens,” he said.

  “Right,” I said.

  “I thought you were just being an asshole,” he said.

  “Just goes to show,” I said.

  He pointed over to Joshua’s ledge. “And the dog is an alien.”

  “Mostly. It’s sort of a long story,” I said.

  Van Doren’s mind was working furiously now. “Is …” he began, looked towards the ambulance, and then back at Miranda and me. “Michelle Beck’s an alien, isn’t she? Something’s happened to her and now you have to take her back to the mothership?”

  Miranda giggled. Van Doren scowled. “I’m sorry,” Miranda said. “I think the word ‘mothership’ did it to me.”

  “Well?” he said, to me. “Is Michelle Beck an alien?”

  “No,” I said. “At least, not yet.”

  “Not yet?” Van Doren said. “What does that mean? Are they going to assimilate her into their collective?”

  Miranda burst out laughing.

  “What?” Van Doren was shouting now.

  It was a second before Miranda could catch herself. Then she gently touched Van Doren’s arm.

  “Jim, you’ve got to stop watching so much science fiction,” she said. “It’s making you talk funny.”

  “Ha ha ha,” Van Doren said, peevishly, and pulled away. “Look, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  I considered Van Doren for a moment, trying to decide what I was going to do with him. Joking aside, murdering him wasn’t an option. But he now knew more about the existence of the Yherajk than anyone outside of me, Miranda, and Carl, and that could be dangerous to us. I was loyal to Carl and Joshua, and Miranda was loyal to me, but Van Doren wasn’t loyal to any of us. Certainly not to me. Quite the opposite, in fact, since in the last few weeks he’d been doing his damnedest to cut my career out from under me.

  Well, I thought. Time to change all of that.

  “Jim, why do you work for The Biz?” I asked.

  “What?” he said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I’m just wondering,” I said. “You make no bones that it’s a shitty little magazine, and that you’re doing shitty little jobs on it. But you’re still there. Why?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but journalism is not exactly a rapidly expanding profession,” Van Doren said. “Particularly in Los Angeles, where you basically have to put a gun to people’s heads to make them read.”

  “You could always move,” I said.

  “What, and miss all this?”

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  “So am I,” Van Doren said. “Would you want to be an agent in Omaha, Tom?”

  “No, but that’s not where my business is,” I said.

  “Well, neither is mine,” Van Doren said. “I write about the entertainment world. Have to be here to do that. I’m writing for a magazine that’s near t
he ass end of that world, I admit that. But you have to start somewhere. Think of it as the journalism equivalent of working on a straight-to-video flick.”

  “Why write about entertainment?” I asked. “Really, who gives a shit about it? It’s not really important. It’s not real news. You’re just wasting your time and talent, such as it is.”

  “Nice cheap shot,” Van Doren said.

  “I try,” I said.

  “And you’re wrong,” Van Doren said. “It’s not a waste. You’re so stuck in the belly of the beast that you don’t notice it, but our entertainment is the single most successful export America has.”

  “Shucks,” I said. “And all this time I thought our most successful export was democracy. Guess that was just another lie I learned in school. I hear evolution’s kind of a crock, too.”

  “Look,” Van Doren said. “Other countries pass laws requiring that their movie theaters, television networks, and radio stations have to play a certain percentage of homegrown entertainment. Because if they didn’t, Hollywood would wipe it all out. We’re not a world leader because we have nuclear missiles and submarines. We are because we have Bugs Bunny and Friends. Our planet is what Hollywood has made it.”

  “Planet Hollywood,” I said. “Catchy.”

  “I thought you might like it,” Van Doren said.

  “But that’s a stupid argument,” I said. “The only people who believe that Hollywood sets political agendas are nuts on the left who are scared of action figures, and nuts on the right who are scared of nipples.”

  “Who’s talking politics?” Van Doren said. “We’re talking about how people around our world want their world to be. And the world they want it to be like is the one they see in our films, and in our TV shows and hear in our music. That’s power. Hollywood, that’s where the world culture starts. If someone wanted to address the world today, he wouldn’t do it from Washington, or Moscow, or London. He’d do it from Hollywood. That’s why I work in LA, Tom.”

  “Sure,” I said. “And as a bonus, you get to meet stars.”

  “Well,” Van Doren admitted, “There is that too.”

  “Joshua,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to have been listening to this little diatribe, would you?”

  “As it happens,” Joshua said, from his perch. “I’ve been hanging on every word.”