“So,” said Pink Hat, lifting a spoonful of shellfish bisque, “you think it’s another of the ever-increasingly sad and bizarre schemes from his father, Hiro Rivers?
“I do,” said Bow Tie.
“My problem is,” continued Pink Hat, “if Michael doesn’t stand up against his father this , I’m afraid I’m going to be quite disappointed. He is only nineteen, but it’s time he asserted himself.” She stuck the spoon in her mouth. “Mmm!” she said. The salty shark semen is succulent, but it doesn’t overpower the denatured rhubarb leaves either!”
“What is this?” I asked Joelene. “Who are they?”
“They’re better spoken than most channel talents,” she said.
A bearded man in a brown beret spoke slowly, as if each of his words were bubbling up from the center of the Earth. “If RiverGroup can’t protect Michael, no merger of any sort will help them win back customers. I am switching away from RiverGroup products. I believe the death knell has rung.”
“If Ribo-Kool,” said Bow Tie, “has a real solution, which I greatly doubt, it might stave off a complete collapse.” He tasted a dab of his soup and said, “Oh! Such an incredible, rich yet pungent mouth-feel! Like swallowing used velvet panties.”
I asked Joelene, “Do you know Ribo-Kool?”
“No,” she said. “It was quite a surprise. Your father… and others… are difficult to predict.”
“I feel for poor Michael,” said another woman. She wore what looked like an iron bra and an intricately carved glass bowl over her head. “I was so sure he would finally lose his virginity with Nora. And I was so looking forward to I’m embarrassed to admit it.” She laughed and fogged the glass in front of her face.
Bow Tie dabbed the corners of his mouth with a matching striped napkin and turned toward the glass bowl woman.
“I would love to lower myself!” said Pink Hat, angrily, as a creamy drip undulated down her three chins. “I understand that Michael has got a beautiful penis, as proud, strong, and pure as a wild Arabian!”
“Indeed,” said Iron Bra from behind her fogged glass, “I have studied his dancing outfits from the rages, and he’s definitely bombastic down there.”
I covered my face in embarrassment. They had to be talking about some other Michael Rivers. Maybe the real Michael Rivers—someone who I didn’t even to know. “Please,” I said, “I can’t watch this!”
“Just one more,” said Joelene, as she turned the channel. Now two blondes stood nose-deep in a field of purple, violet, orange, and canary-colored sunflowers. “Another backgrounder,” explained my advisor.
“Elle Kez,” said one, in an airy singsong voice as though she were reading poetry, “is the luckiest girl in the whole, big, wide world!”
“I gabbed with her all this morning,” the other. “She’s in the capital city of Petunialand right in the petunia center of everything.” Holding her hands above her head, she did an awkward pirouette. “She’s going to be marrying of the best family blood, and they’ll have dozens of babies! I just know it!”
“What about her fashions for the date?” asked the
“You’re going to ’gasm when you see it! She’s been working with her staff day and night.”
I laughed, and asked, “Who are they?”
She snapped off the screen. “Yes, it’s all dreadful, but the point is, tens of thousands of channels are going on and on.” She massaged the bridge of her nose. “Elle is getting a lot of attention.”
The news did not surprise me, but it did confirm my fears. Leaning forward, I touched the cool fabric of Mr. Cedar’s suit jacket and hoped that Nora would see the hidden message. It was the only positive in this unfurling disaster.
Father’s face flashed on the screen before me, and I jumped back.
“That’s what you’re going to wear?” he asked, making a sour face. “I thought you were going to get an actual color.” To Joelene, he said, “Didn’t we discuss blood red and chartreuse, or was I on slub drugs?”
“The silhouette is new,” said Joelene, her voice congenial.
“He tears her skin from her face!” he sang, stretching his mouth wide as though impersonating a bullfrog.
Once he had finished, I said, “This whisper of footsteps…”
For just a second he stared blankly, he pretended to be happy. “Thank you! Wow! More Pure Hog, right?” After a snort of a laugh, he said, “The world is actually in color. Like the sun is orange. The sky is blue.” He inhaled and then bellowed, “And snot is green!”
“The soul,” I said, “is colorless.”
He looked off camera. After fluttering a hand in the air as if to dispel what I had said, he continued, “Anyway, thanks to me and my magnificent acting skills on that stupid Celebrity Research show our stock is up fifteen points. And I’m calling to say that we need every up-tick we can get. So, I was thinking, when Elle’s girly band plays, I want some old Michael Rivers dance moves! Let’s see you—”
“No!” I interrupted. “I don’t do that.”
“Sheeeit!” he said, throwing up his hands. “Do you understand the pressure here? This afternoon we had to sell off the last of the RiverGroup real estate at shit prices just to finance this stupid promo-date. We don’t own enough land to build an outhouse anymore. We’re borrowing against everything we’ve got left. If this show doesn’t work, we’re in fuck-water up to our eyeballs. So, we have to pull out the stops!”
“I don’t dance,” I told him.
He rubbed his face hard. “You need an immediate brain transplant! You really do!” He turned as if complaining to Ken. With that the screen went blank.
“He’s a monster,” I said to Joelene. “I hate him!”
The screen turned back on. “I heard that!” snarled Father. “I’m sitting right here, you dumb slubber butt!”
“Intense feelings are good,” said Joelene, before I could react. “They play quite well in the media.”
Father froze for a second, as if he had not been expecting that. “Good then. Let’s see some intensity tonight. If he won’t dance, we’ve got to have more than the boring crap from the dates with the grey-snot girl. I know,” he said, his eyes glowing, “rub some dick vomit on her spoon so we can watch her eat it!”
The screen went black again. I tried to kick it, but missed and smacked my shin on a metal support bar. Momentarily, the pain obscured my revulsion and fury.
Six
I had been to the top of the three-hundred-story MonoBeat Tower before. Joelene and I had toured with channel reporters when it first opened. They showed us all the amenities, the mud and diamond lobby, the hay and crystal elevators, the light-emitting oleds that covered the surface and beamed advertisements, slogans, and channel shows on all sides. They also made a big deal about how the interior walls were made of a new kind of hard liquid that could be reconfigured in milliseconds. I was asked to touch some button that opened a wall as if it were a camera iris. They asked me what I thought and I tried to sound positive and interested. My attendance had been required as RiverGroup had a partnership with the company that built it, but honestly, the only appealing part of our visit was the meal at the restaurant on top, SpecificMotor 505.