They drove out into Burbank and parked near the Warner Brothers Studios. It was a good street: lots of shops, from hole-in-the-wall camera stores to expensive restaurants. People flowed along the wide avenue. Starlets and production people from the studios mingled with straight business types from insurance offices. Middle-class housewives parked station wagons and took to the streets. A famous TV personality who lived in nearby Toluca Lake strolled past. Mark recognized the ski-shaped nose.
While the crew set up camera and sound equipment, Harvey took Tim Hamner into a restaurant for coffee. When everything was ready, Mark went inside. As he neared the booth he heard Randall speaking. Harvey’s voice had an edge that Mark recognized.
“…whole purpose is to find out what they think. What I think, I hide in neutral questions and a neutral voice. What you think, you hide in silence. Clear?”
“Absolutely,” Hamner drawled. He looked more awake than he had on the drive out. “So what do I do?”
“You can look useful. You can help Mark with the release forms. And you can stay out of the way.”
“I’ve got a good tape machine,” Hamner said. “I could—”
“We couldn’t use anything you’ve got,” Randall said. “You’re not in the union.” He looked up and saw Mark, got the nod and left.
Mark walked out with Hamner. “He gave me that same routine,” Mark said. “Really ate me out.”
“I believe you. I think if I blew an interview for him he’d abandon me on the spot. And cabs home from here cost a lot.”
“You know,” Mark said, “somehow I got the idea you were the sponsor.”
“Yup. That Harv Randall is one tough mother,” Hamner said. “Have you been in this business very long?”
Mark shook his head. “Just temporary, just working for Harv. Maybe one day I’ll do it permanently, but you know how the TV business is. It’d cut into my freedom.”
There was smog in Burbank. “I see Hertz has reclaimed the mountains,” Hamner said.
Mark looked up in surprise. “How’s that?”
Hamner pointed northward where the San Fernando Valley horizon faded into a brown smear. “Sometimes we keep mountains up there. I even have an observatory on one of them. But I guess Hertz Rent-A-Mountain has taken them back today.” They reached the TravelAII. The cameras were set up, ready to zoom in for close-ups or pan out for a wide view. Harvey Randall had already stopped a muscular man in hard hat and work clothes; he looked out of place among the shoppers and business types.
“…Rich Gollantz. We’re putting up the Avery Building over there.”
Harvey Randall’s voice and manner were intended to get the subjects talking; his questions could be filmed again if they were needed on camera. “Have you heard much about the Hamner-Brown Comet?”
Gollantz laughed. “I don’t spend as much time thinking about comets as you might expect.” Harvey smiled. “But I did see the ‘Tonight Show’ where they said it could hit the Earth.”
“And what did you think about that?” Harvey asked.
“Buncha… crap.” Gollantz eyed the camera. “Same kind of thing peopIe are always saying. Ozone’s gone, we’ll all die. And remember ’sixty-eight, when all the fortune-tellers said California was going to slide off into the sea, and the crazies took to the hills?”
“Yes, but the astronomers say that if the head of the comet hit. it would cause—”
“Ice age,” Gollantz interrupted. “I know about it. I saw that thing in Astronomy magazine.” He grinned and scratched under the yellow metal helmet. “Now that’d really be something. Think about all the new construction projects we’d need. And the Welfare boys could pass out polar bear furs instead of checks. Only, somebody’d have to shoot bears for them. Maybe I could get that job.” Gollantz grinned widely. “Yep, it might be fun. I wouldn’t mind trying life as a mighty hunter.”
Harvey dug for more. The interview wasn’t likely to produce usable film, but that wasn’t its purpose. Harvey was fishing, with the camera as bait. The network didn’t approve of this method of research. Too expensive, too crude, and unreliable, they said. They got that opinion straight from the motivational-research outfits that wanted NBS to hire them.
A few more questions. Science and technology. Gollantz was enjoying being on camera. Had he heard about the Apollo shot to study the comet, and what did he think of that?
“Love it. Be a good show. Lots of good pictures, and it’ll cost me less than I paid for Rose Bowl tickets, I guarantee you that. Hey, I hope they let Johnny Baker go up again.”
“Do you know Colonel Baker?”
“No. Wish I did. Love to meet him. But I saw the pictures of him fixing Skylab. Now that was construction work. And when he got back down, he sure gave those NASA bastards hell, didn’t he? Hey, I got to be moving. We got work to do.” He waved and moved off. Mark chased him with a release form.
“Sir? Moment of your time?”
The young man walked with his head down, lost in thought. He was not bad-looking, but his face was curiously wooden. He showed a flash of anger when Randall interrupted his thoughts. “Yes?”
“We’re talking with people about Hamner-Brown Comet. May I have your name?”
“Fred Lauren.”
“Have you any thoughts on the comet?”
“No.” Almost reluctantly he added, “I watched your program.” Muscles knotted at Fred Lauren’s jaws, in a manner that Harvey recognized. Some men go through life perpetually angry. The muscles that clamp their jaws and grind their teeth are very prominent.
Harvey wondered if he had found a mental patient. Still… “Have you heard there’s a chance the head of the comet might hit the Earth?”
“Hit the Earth?” The man seemed stunned. Abruptly he turned and walked away striding rapidly, much faster than he’d approached.
“What was that all about?” Tim Hamner asked.
“Don’t know,” Harvey said. Man on his way to do murder? The violently insane are constantly released back to the public. Not enough hospitals. Was Lauren one of those, or just a man who’d had a nonfight with his boss? “We’ll never know. If you can’t stand not knowing, you’re in the wrong game.”
Fred had not been watching Randall’s previous program. He had been watching Colleen watch a program about a comet… but some of what he had heard began to surface. The Earth was in the comet’s path. If the comet hit, civilization would end in fire.
The end of the world. I’ll be dead. We’ll all be dead. He gave up all thought of going back to work. There was a magazine stand down the street and he walked rapidly toward it.
There were other interviews. Housewives who’d never heard of the comet. A starlet who recognized Tim Hamner from the “Tonight Show” and wanted to be filmed kissing him. Housewives who knew as much about the comet as Harvey Randall did. A Boy Scout taking a merit badge in astronomy.
There were few trends that Harvey could spot. One wasn’t surprising: There was a lot of space industry in Burbank, and people there overwhelmingly approved of the coming Apollo shot. Still, the near unanimity was unusual, even for this area. People, Harvey suspected, wanted another manned shot and more looks at their heroes, the astronauts, and the comet was a good excuse. There were mutters about costs, but, like Rich Gollantz, most thought they paid more for worse entertainment every month.
They were about to pack it in when Harvey spotted a remarkably pretty girl. Never hurts to have a few feet of beauty, Harvey thought. She seemed preoccupied, and scurried along the sidewalk, her face abstracted with weighty matters and lean with efficiency.
Her smile was sudden and very nice. “I don’t watch much television,” she said. “And I’m afraid I never heard of your comet. Things have been hectic at the office—”