AIRWAVES

AIRWAVES
sequel to BROADCAST
by Phil Smith
Sat, 11 Sep 2004

X sat in front of his monitor, staring at the blank e-mail window, trying to put his thoughts in order -- what on Earth was he going to say? He typed 'sixdegrees2' into the Send to box, backspaced over the 2, then instead of hitting shift+2 for the 'at' sign, hit clear. Maybe later.

Hacking into the National Weather Service had been simple. Hacking into his local network affiliate's telepromptor was more of a challenge -- and more of a risk. He'd been lucky that no one seemed to notice his alteration, and was glad for the inspiration to have made it such a small one.

X cued up the tape again. As he did so, his resolve to take it to the next level was reinforced. No, messing with telepromptors and trying to organize a satellite hack were futile -- and possibly dangerous -- endeavours. He had a new plan: Celebrities must be contacted, educated (enlightened), and recruited for the cause. Time on the airwaves could be paid for -- what local affiliate or cable company would refuse payment for airtime?

...Yet the disclosure campaign must be carefully orchestrated, so that the message could reach the populace before the propaganda/censorship machine had a chance to quash it. Several spots would have to air within a short time frame, each with a powerful bit of truth for the public to consider. Then, if the operation were shut down, the spin doctors would nevertheless be making themselves dizzy with all the explaining they'd have to do.

If there was a reason that X could see for his plan to fail, it would be his own inaction and/or lack of dedication to the cause -- therefore he had to overcome his inertia and, as this was the next step, write that e-mail.

Operating on the questionable principle that there are only six degrees of separation between any two people, X had managed to gain the private electronic address of a celebrity. Ironically, it happened to be the star of the film, Six Degrees of Separation. He ran through yet another test of the game, "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" in his head, becoming more convinced that this was possibly, for various reasons, the best celebrity to approach.

~o~

He wrote it, sent it, then sweated over it. Called it up from his Sent folder a dozen times, looking for reasons for it to be disregarded, hoping he would be taken seriously. Nothing left but to pop open a pint of Grolsch and put on some vintage Dave Brubeck vinyl... X dropped the needle carefully in the groove of Time Further Out, lit a candle, and sat back in his recliner. Weary from another week of slogging away at his job, one pint, one album, and one pull of the lever on the side of his chair was all it took...

~o~

Late Saturday morning shocked him rudely. He wasn't in his bed, and an empty Grolsch bottle rolled off his lap as he sprang up to answer the telephone. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this X? Did I wake you?" asked an oddly familiar voice. What time was it?

"Yes, and um, yeah -- but that's okay..." he replied, trying to ignore what his bladder was telling him.

"I got your e-mail. Brilliant. Count me in." Suddenly X remembered having included his phone number in the message, and realized who he was talking to...

~o~

[This is a work of fiction. No Kevin Bacons were harmed (or even contacted) in the process of its composition, which was completed 11 September, 2004. If this becomes a series, dear readers, you will know that the plan is being put into action... Feel free to distribute this story widely, but please keep it intact, with no insertions.]