Paul McConnell lives and writes and reads voraciously in the land of sun and smog. He has written several unpublishable books and intends to write more. He maintains a training wheels website at hairypaul.com and can be reached for further epistatic commentary at macserp@cs.com.

THE ETHER REEL

The first big mistake I made was falling up the stairs on my way out of the club. I'm sure they caught that on their security monitors from at least one angle. I probably even made the archives. After all, that's a pretty big splash on a Sunday night when not much else is happening. I should really stay away from the gin, and the strip clubs and the ATMs while I'm at it. It's not a good feeling sliding face down a steep flight of brillo carpet with an aching set of blue balls.
        You invariably get ripped off and that's why I don't go to those high dollar clubs anymore but sometimes, when I'm in a strange town I make an exception. It's always a let down of course. They'll throw their breath on you and use words like molest and private and no monitors and the next thing you know you have a chit for four hundred in your pocket made out to some obscure entertainment service and a page long disclaimer that says you are enjoining these services under your own will and there it is, the proof at the bottom, your signature, along with your thumbprint. You remember of course because you didn't even read the form. You just slammed your sixth or seventh gin and tonic and were ready to beat your chest like Tarzan. That's what you get really. You should've just stayed in your room and called a hooker.
 
        I swear the cabbie was laughing at me when I reached the top of the stairs but he couldn't have seen. Still, it was pretty strange that he was there waiting for me like some kind of red carpet service. But there he was. I remembered the orange turban above all and the name on the id mug on the dashboard, Fasul, seemed familiar. It was the same guy that picked me up at the hotel earlier and brought me to my meeting downtown. And now I didn't have to tell him where I was going, he told me. I sat back and drooled on myself, vaguely entertained by the coincidence.
        That's the last thing I remember. As far as I can tell it's the day after and I am in a different hotel and there are my belongings on the other bed.
        When I woke up I started to panic naturally but there's not a scratch on my body. In fact everything is in order and I feel mostly fine, not even as hung over as I expected. There was even orange juice and a bagel on the breakfast table, next to my phone charger and phone. I sat up and looked around the room. A newspaper was slid partway under the door and a robe and slippers were hanging in the entry hall next to the bathroom. This was definitely nicer than that other place, but where exactly was I and why?
        Just as I started to get up and have a look out the window the hotel phone next to me rang in two short blasts, paused, and then rang again. It was that metal bell sound, like the classic alarm clock, only short like I said. The only other place you hear it anymore is at the horse races and that's precisely why, because it's meant to startle them out of the gate.
        I picked up the phone.
        "Mr. Cugino this is a courtesy call from the front desk to inform you that your eleven thirty flight has been delayed and that you are scheduled on the next available flight at seven fifty pm sir pending availability. Will you be needing anything else this morning Mr. Cugino?
        "Coffee please. A pot of it."
        "Sir I've been given explicit instructions not to allow you your usual caffeine this morning. If you like I can send up some herbal tea or decaf, if you prefer."
        "Instructions? Says who?"
        "Sir generally speaking these instructions are made by the guests themselves sir but I can't answer that without verifying with my supervisor and she's out this morning."
        "In other words you're not allowed to say."
        "Sir I'm sorry but I'll have to refer your question to my supervisor. Will there be anything else this morning?"
        "Can you tell me what hotel this is without your supervisor?"
        "Sir, hotel?"
        "Yes. HOTEL! I woke up this morning in a different room than I checked in to yesterday and so I presume that I'm in a different hotel as well. I came in late last night and I was very drunk so I'd just like an explanation that's all."
        "Hold on sir, please."
        She switched over the line to a waterfall soundtrack and then switched back before I could hang up.
        "Sir I'm being told that someone will be right up to explain your status. Is there anything else?"
        "What do you mean 'status'?"
        "Sir, they are on their way to you now. You might want to get dressed and eat a little something. They should be to you in about ten minutes."

        I slammed the phone down. It was like talking to a machine. 'Status'! What the hell was this? And why did it take ten minutes if they were on their way? The only hotels I knew that took ten minutes to cross were in Las Vegas because they ran you through the gauntlet just to get a bucket of ice.
        I got up to look out the window but it was frosted white and locked and at least an inch thick like at the bank. I crossed the room to pick up the newspaper. It was a USA Today which meant I could have been anywhere, even in another country for all that I thought that was possible. I tried my cell phone but it was dead, no service.
        The courtesy slippers and robe fit perfectly. I sat down in them at the foot of the bed with the tv remote. I flipped through ten channels at least before I realized that every picture was the same. They were all static cameras. Wide shots on rooms just like mine, exactly, down to the Kandinsky and O'keefe artwork, only they were empty.
        Someone knocked on the door twice, sharply, and let themselves in. I guessed it was the maid. She had on a uniform. A white jumper with long sleeves and a telephone headset. She looked vaguely familiar, like when someone says they met you before at a party. She started making the bed so I moved over to the table and chairs.
        
        "Do you have any coffee?", I asked.
        She said something into her headset that I couldn't hear.
        "What's going on around here anyhow? Isn't someone on their way up here to explain something to me? Could you maybe tell whoever you're talking to to hurry it up."
        She finished the bed and turned to go. Just then the phone rang. I thought I saw her jump a little too.
        "Mr. Cugino we're sorry to have to tell you this but your flight has been canceled indefinitely for the moment. We'll keep you posted of course and if there's anything we can do to make you more comfortable please let us know."
        "You know damn well I'm still waiting for whoever it was you sent up here."
        "Mr. Cugino please. There have been a lot of mix ups this morning so please try to be patient. By the way, I just spoke with my supervisor and we've cleared the no caffeine order as of then so I've already let Clarissa know and when she's finished there she'll send down for some coffee."
        "I think she's already left."
        "No sir, I believe she's drawing a bath for you at the moment."
        I looked over and there was steam coming out of the half-closed bathroom door.
        "Look, I'm expected back at the office this afternoon."
        "We've already taken care of it sir. We spoke to your partner and your schedule has been cleared."
        "But..."
        "Sir, please try to relax. Clarissa has been assigned to you so if there is anything on the order of housekeeping she'll take care of it. Please don't ask her questions about our operations. She is wired straight through to security where we monitor everything. Don't make it difficult for her, she's been one of our best recruits out of the exchange program."
        "Lady until you tell me where I'm at and who you are that doesn't mean a thing to me and I'm sure as hell not making any promises."
        She hung up this time.
        So she knew about Gluck and Cugino. I never even registered our company name at the hotel, so how did they talk to Roy already?
        That's what I was in town for yesterday. G and C sold integrated data recognition systems, like the kind that the airports are using nowadays to screen passengers for health or security reasons. Up until nine eleven our biggest client was the CIA, followed at a distance by a few museums and banks. Now of course, our company and half a dozen others in the country have seen a ten fold increase in the airport security sector. Roy and I went public and had to hire five top notch programmers just to meet the demand. So yesterday I met with a Silicon Valley software engineer. A real dope it turns out. To top it off, I have him to thank for the free passes to the club.

        Clarissa came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Suddenly I knew exactly where I had seen her. It was Scarlet from the club last night except the difference is night and day. The one I signed my life over to was in a g-string with her hair teased down and chewing on ice-cubes. But this wasn't about a gin-soaked four hundred dollar note anymore. I was starting to realize I was in some kind of trouble. But what possibly? I was falling down drunk when I left. The worst I could be accused of was being sloppy but that's between me and my dry cleaner.
        What could she be doing here? Was it a set-up? Was my wife having me followed? Some kind of blackmail? The questions were piling up faster than I could count. I needed to organize my thoughts.
        "I could really use that coffee now, Scarlet."
        She didn't flinch.
        "Listen, chica, I don't care if you ripped me off last night. That's expected. I just want to know what's going on here, now, today."
        "Your bath is ready Mr. Cugino. I think you'll find it very relaxing. I'll bring in your coffee when it arrives."
        
        It was hard to keep arguing with her when all I could think of now was zipping the real Scarlet out of that jumpsuit and finishing last night's business. Already that backlit burst of steam was getting the better of my morning wool. My hangover wasn't helping either and besides, I wasn't going anywhere.
        "Do you have other rooms right away?"
        "No, I'm assigned to you for the rest of my shift."
        "I see. Well, I take half a sugar packet."
        "Yes Mr. Cugino."
        "And stop using my last name. Call me John, but you already know that don't you?"
        "Yes, sir. They told me downstairs."
        "Who did?"
        "My boss. I punched the ticket he gave me in the machine and the screen came up with Mr. John Cugino and then the information on your room. So I came. That is what my job consists of everyday."
        "Do they make you talk like that?"
        "Like what?"
        "Like you've been told what to say and you've said it a hundred times before."
        "I am only doing my job. There's no reason for you to make it harder for me." "But where are we?"
        "Even if I knew I couldn't tell you."
        "The robot on the phone told me you were in an exchange program?"
        "I faced a lot of time and was given a choice to work inside."
        "Ok Scarlet. So you were in trouble. They let you work the tourist club and recruit guys like me. Maybe there's a list. Maybe they tell you which ones. Some divorce shark manufacturing settlements from the IPO listings."
        
        Clarissa got buzzed in the headphones. I could hear it from several feet away. She squeezed the sides of her head and had to sit down to gather herself.
        "Please", she said, "I've told you everything I can."
        "Ok I get it. I should feel sorry for you. You're a nice girl who made some bad decisions and now you're forced to live a double life."
        "It could be worse. My life was in danger."
        "What was it? Meth, black cigarettes, gang bangin? Were you pushing for your daddy?"
        "You don't seem to get it, do you? I'm not allowed to talk about my situation or this place. They listen to everything, to every dumb question you ask. And they're watching too. My job here is to make you comfortable until they unlock that door and they take me away."
        "Isn't that right up your alley?"
        She walked back into the steam to temper the bath and I followed her. Even without the spike heels she was a few inches taller than me. I thought about the way she swilled Stoli last night, playing with the ice cubes, before she led me away from the bar.
        "Don't I need to sign something?"
        "I believe we have you on file Mr. Cugino."

---------------

        In another room at least three times the size of John Cugino's there are a dozen or so people seated or standing at workstations with computers and various mixing consoles. Many of them are talking at once. Other people are coming and going, dropping off stapled pages and coffees. A towering man, fifties and barrel-chested with a full head of white hair, is obviously in charge, everyone else wears headsets.

        "Ok listen up everyone! The opening sequence came off great but the real test is when we cut back in after the break. I need everyone to stay focused with me and we're all gonna go home and have a nice holiday. Now, so everyone knows where we are... We pick up the cab driver Fasul as he enters. With any luck, Cugino and Clarissa will come out of the bathroom in their towels. Fasul's the x-man here but Cugino's gonna recognize him, so keep it head on, straight POV, nothing flashy. They'll probably all sit down to talk. I want a three shot here. B Camera. Think Surveillance."
        The director turns to someone whose been standing under him taking notes "That's the main table camera, right?"
        He picks his voice up to address the room again: "Ok now remember, no one in that room knows we're here so let's do our part to keep it moving until the next break. If we get stuck, follow my lead, we'll probably go to Clarissa. Just remember - there are gonna be pauses, so nobody jump ahead. Ok, good luck everyone. Let's go live. Here we go...3...2...1..."

        "Look Mr. Fasul, or whatever your name is - I don't work for you. And I don't care what you want."
        "Maybe so, but I have some photos from last night that might interest you, or your wife perhaps."
        He handed me a large envelope and I tossed it on the bed.

        Clarissa got up to answer the door. They were bringing our lunch. Sandwiches and coffee, their choice.

        "Mr. Cugino. All we are asking is that you open up the parameters on your latest machines after they've gone through testing. We understand that you have to establish their reliability of course."
        "They either work or they don't. The error margin is built in. It can't be adjusted."
        "Tell that to your competitors who are talking with us right now."
        "So you say. But I haven't heard anything except from you."
        "You've already indentured yourself and your company. Does this piece of paper look familiar to you?"
        He held out a crisp white copy with two signatures at the bottom. One was mine.
        "Clarissa, can you bring Mr. Cugino's jacket - the one he was wearing last night."
        "Here we are Mr. Cugino. Would you like to show us what's in your pocket?"

        "I doesn't matter", I said. "I have a full partner."
        "Roy. Do you think he'll have a problem? Tell me, how long have you known him?"
        "No. I don't believe it."

        I emptied out the pockets of my jacket. Besides a card key for the Olympia Hotel - which they told me burned down last night - there was a violet g-string, a pornographic video print I don't remember, a crumpled up credit card consent form, or so I thought. I opened it up and compared the two. It was a copy. Signed by a witness and myself, with a time and date stamp.
        "Would you like me to show you your thumbprint Mr. Cugino. I can have a black light brought in. Perhaps if you weren't in such a hurry. Maybe you would have read this: 'I hereby agree to cooperate under the qualifications set forth in this document or it shall be noted that I relinquish my full proprietary and monetary interest in Gluck and Cugino LLC.'"
        "I doesn't matter. It won't hold up. I'll say I was drugged. I was tricked and you know it"
        "And who will you tell that to? Your signature also declares that you were doing so under your own power. Go ahead, read it if you don't believe me. Besides, Mr. Cugino, my associates rarely see anything through to that level of legality. This document is merely a reminder of your obligations and the extent of your commitment, which terminates, and reverts back to you all interest in the company, after you've met our one time demand. It is intended for your piece of mind."
        "Even if I agreed, it's impossible to tamper with the machine after testing. Each one is run through a thousand recognition trials with the full active database in a real time situation. If it performs it is immediately installed."
        "I happen to know you can program a breakdown after a certain number of trials say."
        "And help you what? I resent your suggestion. I don't care who you are or who you represent. How did you think I would just roll over and be responsible for a security failure? You can flash those pictures and that contract all you want - and her too, I don't care - what's done is done and I can't change what will happen but I'm not gonna help you."

        Fasul's fists pounded the table. I considered the fact that he might be armed and that I would have to fight him for the cardkey for the room if he had one. I'd already discovered that Clarissa was stuck here just like I was but I couldn't count on her. She was their man-eater. They had her dead on, whoever they were.
        "Listen you want the airports don't you. Those agencies are counting on me. Tell me who sent you!"
        "I have no personal stake in the plans. I'm a soldier. They move me around from city to city. They give me a target and I deliver them."
        "Who's in charge?"
        "If I knew as much sir their plans would be in jeopardy. Like your new friend over there - they gave me no choice. It was their way or I was going back to my country to stand trial for crimes against the regime. I would be executed, along with my family."

Back in the control room....

        Ok everyone, hang in there. We're gonna close. Get ready to run the Presidential debate segment. Someone call the National Weather Service - I want a live satellite feed at the half. Get our man in the Outer Banks on the hurricane evacuation route. Ready! 3.....2.....1. Take us to voiceover."

        "Thank you everybody for joining us. Due to obvious security concerns we've been forced to cut short our exclusive behind the scenes investigation into the unnamed groups who are operating within our country's borders. We'll break in with updates where and when we are able. Thank you for watching. Coming up next...."

And the director said:

        "Alright everyone - good job so far. I want you all to take a breather and come back ready for the Late Night Show break-in. I want it halfway into the monologue, understood? And let's see if we can't get someone up to that room to bust some heads. Chris - who do we have tonight on our side?"
        "We've got Nevins sir. He's the low-level that disappeared during the Iran-Contra hearings. He's briefed and ready to go."
        Good - I remember his test shots. He should do fine. This time I want heavy, undertstand? Bring him over to my office for a drink. And I want a sit down with the fact checkers. What do we have on these three? Nevins should be loaded when he goes in there."

---------------

        "Ah Mr. Nevins, come in. Sit. Let me fix you a little something. Scotch-soda allright?"

        The director gets up from behind his large cherry desk extending his hand to Nevins and then moves over to an overhead lit sidebar filled with the usual crystal cut decanters of clear to amber liquids. The office decor is heavy, wood. Some dull brass accents. Built in bookshelves. Soft Recessed lighting suggestive of evening. A worn black leather couch.
        "Let me get to the point Nevins. This project is my baby and I'm not cuttin teeth here. I've been in this game a long time. What we're doing is new in terms of crossing the line. We are making news and we are filming news while it happens. We're also setting a new standard for reality programming. That's where you come in. Your the rubber man. You're our inside. You got to feel the situation and you have to give a little push here and there to keep it going. It's action and drama, understand."
        "You want me to act?"
        "How the hell did you get in here Nevins with a dumb question like that? Most people aren't actors, you got it? Hell most people aren't even people in front of the camera. Why do you think we got a dupe like what's his name up there. This is real life to him. He's gonna lose his wife and his company, not to mention what they're asking him to do. That's you. You're another link in the operative chain - just pretend your working for ol' Ollie North again - and feel what's going on. Your goal is to get our jello boy on the ropes. Fight or Fuck you see. That's what the public wants. The cabbie up there. He's too civilized, polite. You got me? I want you to put your cover training to use."
        "I'm glad we're having this talk sir. I guess I was a little nervous because I thought I would be playing a part I had no idea of - like the other day. Really sir..."
        "Don't worry. You did a fine job. He's here and it's on, right? Here, let me fix you another drink and you take it with you and get yourself ready. There's food over at holding. Talk to Chris, the bald guy who brought you in - he's probably standing out in the hall taking notes. He's got a couple of party girls if you wanna loosen up that way. Hop to it soldier. Good to have you on board."

        The director, cutting a figure like George C. Scott in Patton, drains his drink standing, holding his heavy frame at attention.
---------------

        Clarissa gets up from the bed, where she had landed after lunch, while Cugino and Fasul keep going in circles.
        "I can't take this. Not like this. They're asking us to load the gun. Before this it was cars, marriage, life insurance. I can deal with that. Stupid greedy men, that's my specialty. But who's with who here?"
        
        We see Cugino get up and grab the phone off the bedside table, manically clicking for the operator.
        "Front desk...front desk...pick up...lady..."
        "They're gone", Clarissa chimes in. "Your it Johnny boy, don't you see? Do you still think you can just walk out of here?"
        "They assure me you will not be harmed Mr. Cugino. Think of it this way - your marriage and your business are completely compromised, OR, the alternative, which is out of your hands generally speaking."
        "Maybe he's right. Let the big boys play it out and we all go home."
        "Since when do you have an opinion? What happened to yes sir, no sir, let me make you comfortable sir."
        "I thought we dropped that attitude in the tub. By the way thanks Fasul, we just got under."
        "If you like to try again...I am a patient man."
        "Is that another one of your specialties Fasul - that and blindsiding drunks?"
        "They tell me to pick up target and push green button. Of course one time I forgot and didn't close the window between us and I was getting very tired."
        "So you gassed me?"
        "Just the icing on the cake after all that gin I poured down your throat in the bar."
        "We couldn't take any chances, but don't worry you were safe."
        "Safe? Look at me! I don't know where I am or what I have to do to get out of here and you're telling me not to worry. This isn't the movies. I have a wife. I have a job and goldfish and I tip the paper boy once a month. I build machines that are supposed to help us, to make us safe..."
---------------
        Lena Cugino had been worried all day, even though her husband's partner Roy called to explain that John was held up for another interview. She didn't understand why he wouldn't have called himself. At least not until she saw the news report that broke in during the Late Night monologue and there was her husband. She thought she recognized the turbaned man from the camera store on the new promenade downtown but she couldn't be sure. The girl she knew however, although not well. She worked in the photo lab at the Walmart. She was usually very agitated and once Lena saw her out in the parking lot arguing with a man - her boyfriend she assumed then - who had a handlebar mustache and a shamrock tattoo. Lena was sure that John must know this girl too but she couldn't picture them together. It certainly wasn't like John to be casual with women he didn't know, other women, especially a girl like that.
        Lena tried to discern the face of the man who was sitting on the couch but it was obscured by a light black fuzz. Neither her husband or the turbaned man or that unreliable hussy from the photo department seemed to know who he was. The camera stayed on this blur of a man while he spoke, over the shoulders of the other three.
        "I operate under a very powerful agency. I could hold you all for indefinitely for crimes against the state - very unpatriotic of you - however, I've been given some leverage here. My immediate superior is interested in this effort of yours Fasul, and in your partner too, Mr. Cugino. As for you Sacrlet or Clarissa, or should I use your Family name? Maybe you'd like to tell these new friends of yours how you met your boyfriend. Tell them about how he was in a prison gang, an Aryan mafia running protection and prostitution and gambling from the inside. Tell them how you were on the outside, part of a cult that was delivering drugs and passing notes for this brotherhood in exchange for the protection of one of your founders."
        Nevins loosened his tie and collar with a practiced side to side yank of his hand. His features were swollen and beginning to bleat red from the scotch.
        "You two guys didn't stand a chance with this one.", he added, slapping his thigh.
        Clarissa got up and began to pace on a small patch of carpet, as though confined.
        "I don't need to listen to this. I got out and I'm protected."
        "But you can't leave can you Clarissa? You still owe the brotherhood your life."
        "That has nothing to do with this. This is a job and it's legit."
        "It is? So who pays you?"
        "I don't know."
        "And you Fasul, where does that box of money under the seat of your cab come from?"
        "I learned not to ask questions. Believe me, I have lived under stranger rules than this."
        "And what happens when you stop being useful - what are the rules then? Who is going to protest when you end up shot dead by one of your fares? Let's face it, nobody will even notice and that's how it goes."
        
        To this point John Cugino was struck dumb. This man in front of them was the man he interviewed yesterday, the programmer, except that he wasn't, because he was painfully unqualified. But what really bothered him was the implication of his partner Roy, who, truth be told, he had reservations about at first because of his situation over a bitter divorce and custody battle. Gluck lost his shirt and Cugino had to carry his new partner. It's only been in the last year, after their second technologies patent went platinum that their share in the market has threatened to outpace their ability to meet demand. In other words, they were suddenly raking it in and scrambling just to keep up. He refused to believe, even as the steam lifted off the bathroom mirror, that he was in the situation he was in and that Roy had knowingly helped put him there.
        "Look - I don't know what you think you have on me or my partner but no one's agreed to anything here. I've been tricked and I'm stuck here and the rest is between me and my wife."
        
        If up to this point Lena Cugino had any doubts about what she was seeing on their bedroom tv, she now had to contend with this admission on his part, or hers if in fact this was a trick of a pre- or subconscious nature. In either case the matter had to be conceded and if another truth be told she did have him followed to the airport yesterday and onto the plane and all the way to the hotel Olympia. The last phone call she got, at around midnight, was that her husband was dropped solo at a club, where, as her man on the inside put it, there was ample live entertainment and perhaps an overlooked level of illicit activity but no date, no tryst, no rendezvous of star-crossed lovers in the lonely streetcar of night.
        Now her husband was calling a truce. A reconciliation for all the world. She wondered if Roy was watching. She knew as much for she had just talked to him moments before to remind him that Monica Bello was a guest tonight on the Late Show and now this. How easier for them, for everyone she thought on those afternoons in Roy's arms with the stained sunlight coming in through the brown curtains at the Olive Hotel. But no on had the energy for starting over anymore. Truth comes at the end, butting heads with our next beginning. What happens in between is a river.
        
        Lena found herself reaching for the cordless on her side of the bed but as she leaned over something on the screen caught her attention. It was a photo, specifically their wedding photo. He never told her that he traveled with it. Instantly she was confronted by the memory of that day, of how her husband-to-be had forgotten to schedule the man who was to play the wedding march during the ceremony. She remembers her father shrugging his shoulders and insisting in his ever fateful way that there was nothing they could do about it now that everyone was there and assembled. In other words, "you're on", he said. She questioned herself. Her failure to stay the contours. Her memory of a life wedded to this man like something she read and just when she most wanted to believe that none of this was happening the grainy man on the couch spun the photo towards himself, calling attention to it.

        "That day John's niece had to step in and play the piano and the only thing she knew was the theme from Star Wars with two fingers."
        Cugino stepped forward like he might grab the photo but he stopped short and slashed at the air with his finger.
        "So you've been spying on me. Asking around. You want to know something about him", he said, addressing the other two, "He's a fraud. I interviewed him yesterday as a programmer. He gave me passes to your club. Today he's a thug."
        "They know John. They only get pieces. Just like you. I have another one for you." Nevins put the photo back facing them.
        "Your wife and your partner. It's been going on for a while I'm sorry to say. That's why Roy flipped. He didn't want you to find out. He sent you to me and while you're here he's rewriting the code. By the time you get back the machines will ship. It's all done."
        "I don't believe you. You crossed him anyway. If it's already done, then why this?"
        "It's not a one time deal John. When the fear starts to wear off we gotta hit the public again and you're the guy next door, not Roy. He won't be around much longer."
        "It's more of the same. More lies. More confusion. No one trusts anyone right? Next you're gonna tell me my wife's an agent, sent in years ago to infiltrate me before I even was me, back when I worked at the Radio Hut. Is that it? Am I close?"
        "Your wife is home in bed right now, alone and confused. She's thinking of how she's failed you. Do you know she had you followed? It was Roy's suggestion if I'm not mistaken."
        
And the director holds the tension in the control room:

        "Ok people. Stay with me here. This is too good. We're not gonna cut to commercial and risk losing viewers. I need to get a word in to Nevins. Please to god tell me we wired him before he went in there. I need Someone to get back to me on that five minutes ago. Allright let's go - punch in on the A-camera. I want a close-up of that wedding photo. Split the screen. I want Cugino, then and now. Someone get his wife on the phone. I want an exclusive. Who do we have down there? Ready...A camera, push!"

        ...like I said, my first big mistake was falling up the stairs on my way out of that club. All the way down on my front side and then back up. I swear that cabbie was laughing. It was one of those rare moments that you actually have the presence of mind to think to yourself that maybe none this is really happening. It would make a good t-shirt or a baseball hat. It's not a bad philosophy either, right before you turn out the light next to your bed. In fact some days you wake up and you almost believe it.

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