From: hurh@fnal.fnal.gov (Patrick Hurh)
Subject: STORY: Lordy, Lordy... 1.0
Date: 24 Sep 1994 06:38:09 GMT

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'Lordy, Lordy...'
by PG Hurh and (?)                                  copyright 1994

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1.0   <>
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[head shot, close in, 0.21 sec zoom out, 3/4 bust shot]

Sanchez: (heavy sigh)

[quarter screen fill of San's mouth exhaling]

[eyes look into camera]

Sanchez: It didn't happen like that... I mean it was saucer shaped,
         but it didn't... it didn't...

[cut to full screen, glass breaking, audio silent]

Sanchez: ...really mean anything.

[16 bit dither fade to 2 bit relief of San's face]

Sanchez: Sorry to disappoint you...

[Freeze, full front.  Fade to black.  Roll sponsor seg]

"Next time, Sanchez. Next time."

"What?... Wha' did I scrap?"  Chez wiped a sweaty palm on the back of his
pant leg.

"Lordy..."  Gail leaned back from the console and shook her head.  She
looked over at Sanchez, through the P'glas, but just shook her head again
slightly.  "Lordy," she repeated and strode from the control booth.  The
cushioned black door sank back into its frame behind her.

Sanchez screwed his eyes up and tried to catch sight of another shadow form
in the booth.  "What?... Wha' is the problem wi' the 'rector?"

"That's THE 'Rector to you Chez," I grinned at the youth.  My hand wandered
to the booth's light switch and flicked it over.  Overhead, circ-lights
wound up and flickered a 40 hertz silouhette of the crew at Sanchez.  "It's
not what you scrapped.  It's what you didn't scrap."

Sanchez peered at my face.  He didn't quite make it and ended up staring at
a place just above my receded chin.

"Tha' saucer shit again?"  Chez rolled his eyes up toward the cooling
fresnels.  "I told you, it looked like a freakin' plate or somethin'...
like one of 'em tea cup deals, only without the cup, man."

Sanchez started to stand then.  In the periperal I saw Tech's fingers
snakeout to the potential toggle.  I quickly brushed his upper arm with my
hand and shook my head at him. Tech shrugged and relaxed in his seat.  His
other hand rolled a ready-made j between thumb and finger.  I reminded
myself that mid-shift break was around the analog.

"Don't try to leave the studio, Chez.  Those doors don't seem to like you."

Sanchez bounced on his toes and narrowed his eyes at a place about a foot
to my right.  "Hey, man.  This wasn't in the fuckin' contract, asshole."
He did a cute little Texan two-step right there in the studio.  "I didn't
sign for this, man.  I'll tell you the story. But I'm not gonna lie."

"Sit down Sanchez.  I hear ya... You know it ain't easy doing this whole
thing live and 16 bit.  You aren't the only one with the story..."

"Yeah," Sanchez strode close to the P'glas.  "But I'm the only one that got
in that saucer with 'em!  I'm the only one who laid it down on the line,
hombre!  What you got is nothin' man.  Without me, your coverage is scrap!"
 Wet palms, open, slapped the P'glas.  "Without me, you're scrapped!"

I groaned and cut the audio out.  Tech snickered and rolled his chair back
over to the canned digital deck. His chair made a slick sound, like a
molybdenum zipper.

"He's got you there, Spin."  Tech grabbed his genitals as he spoke.
Emphasis on 'there'.  "No one else lined up for RTPT tonight, boss.  Just
think what Gail will do to your file [grabs his genitals again], if you
can't get this guy to spill his tamales."

I smiled and pictured my face as I spoke.

[Spin's lips slide into evil grin.  Fresnels cut out to sharp line spot on
mouth.  No spray]

Spin: Lordy, Lordy...

Tech broke into a snicker and <frump> Gail punched the door open with a
muffled thump.

"Mr. Ricardo Sanchez has a sister," she launched at me and Tech.  "She
didn't go UP with them... BUT she claims to know what they look like... Fox
is airing her in ten minutes, forty/ten."

I turned away form her glare and into San's who was pacing the stuccoed
studio.  He's ready to spill, I thought.  Ready to scrap...

"Time?" I called.

"Four seconds and counting..."  Tech slid back to the console as he spoke.

I flicked the booth's lighting toggle back down and leaned into the
interrogator's m'phone.  "Chez, man.  We're goin' back chemical.  Stay with
me..."  Sanchez shielded his eyes and peered back at me, this time he
looked remarkably close to my face, and sat back down.  "This time all we
want is reaction... Just listen to what I have to say... and no saucer
shit!" I looked over at Tech.

"...and one... and... zip..."

[2 bit, 2 Hz strobed facials.  Flash ultraviolet burst... catch subject
squint]

[2 bit fade to 16 bit PAL video motion]

Spin: Ricardo, I know how difficult this is for you.  But, your sister...

[Flash wince, Strobe over calm/numb face]

     ... she didn't quite fare as well as you, did she?

[Close up, San's eyes, dry/red.  Eyebrow jerk in surprise]

Sanchez: Maria... She, she was under the sau... the vessel.  She didn't
         have a chance...

Spin: Just like the first landing of the EVO's, huh?  No chance...

[Zoom out, show full 3/4 of subject on stool, up ultraviolet on BG]

Spin: When did you first realize that the aliens were S-evlolved humans?

[end of L,L... 1.0]

OK.  Yes, I'm the one who did the Company Man thing. (BTW if you didn't
know, the whole thin' (C-man) is available <ftp> from the chat archive ftp
site)  This new story is completely made up on the fly (except for the
theme which I have pulled from one and a half years of reading PK Dick).
No revisions and no prisoners... Truly, I mean it, I'm writing this as I go
along...

If someone wants to join in, e-mail me and I'll let you in on the plot.
You too can write part of this story.  [Warning: This is a 'short story'
(no more than ten grand w.) do not expect to thrash out your characters
here.]  If you don't get the narrative so far... read some more Jeter,
Simmons and Hurh <<oh! and include some Ogar ((demo)), eibwen ((tap)), and
that other guy ((tm))>>.... or write your own and stop whining.

--patrick.

hurh@fnal.fnal.gov

PS  For all the 'old timers' who periodically show up here and tell all of
us off..... well, ever heard of the phrase, PARIDIGM SHIFT?