K Gillenwater: The Man in 14C: A Collection of Science Fiction Stories

Lucinda knew from an early age that she didn’t belong with the poor and downtrodden. The slack-jawed, glassy-eyed children of drug users and alcoholics surrounded her with their pathetic life goals. Demonte wanted to be the first in his family to graduate from high school. Teresa wanted to make it to eighteen without getting pregnant like her three older sisters.

Lucinda had much bigger goals.

In high school, she’d muscled her way into the role of Student Editor for their pathetic school paper. A four-page, stapled-together crapfest that most students dumped into the trash on their way out of English class. Since the advisor for the paper had no interest in guiding a bunch of losers on the finer points of journalism, Lucinda had her run of the place. She’d reassigned student reporters to stories she knew would grab the attention of P.S. Number 155. No longer did they cover the Friday night football games and the weekly cafeteria menu. Instead, under her direction, students followed stories about widespread cheating on the annual state exam, rumors of an affair between the principal and the janitor, and drug busts off-campus that involved anyone with a connection to their school.

In one year’s time the student paper went from being an automatic dump in the recycle bin to the hottest thing since a transgendered girl joined the cheerleading squad.

Lucinda knew that journalism and manipulating the feckless reader was her talent in life. As one of the few who’d paid attention in English class, she learned the value of vocabulary and used it to her advantage. She took this knowledge to secure herself a college scholarship. Her passionate essay and accompanying awards for her work on the school paper, plus her absent father’s Hispanic heritage made her a shoe-in for financial aid.

Although her father’s family had emigrated a century earlier, she spoke of a Quinceañera celebration that never happened, the traditional Mexican dishes her German-Irish mother never made, and her hopes for uplifting the Hispanic community which she’d never embraced.

She received numerous full-ride scholarships and accepted one at the best university in the country for journalism. The day she left for college she shook off the dirt of her inner-city upbringing and never looked back. She spent the next four years honing her skills and dreaming big. She’d lost interest in newspaper journalism and latched onto the glamour and recognition only a career in television news could bring.

By the time she started interviewing for jobs her senior year, she’d molded herself into the perfect TV news anchor. She shortened her too-Hispanic last name from “Quantillo-Hermosa” to “Quant.” Her long, dark locks were dyed and primped into a stiff, blonde coif that mimicked every successful female news anchor Lucinda had studied. Her accent grew clipped and non-regional with rounded vowels and distinct consonants at the end of every word. Any trace of Lucinda Quantillo-Hermosa was erased and replaced with a molded, perfected, new-and-improved version.

National News Today , the leading morning news program on television, won her over with their generous offer: early morning co-lead anchor with shared dressing room. From 5 am to 7 am Lucinda would be front and center, reading the news of the day, interviewing guests, and chatting it up with Gil Gilderson.

Gil Gilderson had been on National News Today for decades. He’d anchored the evening news on the most popular program in the country. He had been bumped down to early morning co-lead anchor five years ago when his personal life spilled over into the news. A cheating husband with a secret love child could not be a serious news anchor. He’d lost his trustworthiness. Women were switching the channel to watch Jane Allred on their competitor’s channel.

Although Gil had lost his shine with the general public, he still drew viewers during the early morning hours. Lucinda knew this was a huge opportunity for her. Who wouldn’t like a perky, young, adorable co-anchor from fly-over territory (or so her official bio read for her page on the channel’s website)?

Lucinda leapt into her role with gusto. She gritted her teeth every morning, rising at 3 am to find time for a workout, a carbohydrate-free, organic, anti-GMO breakfast and two glasses of pristine bottled water from the south of France, and still made it to the studio by 4:35 for her hair and makeup. On the air by 5, non-stop smiling and pleasantness for two hours until 7 o’clock rolled around and the ‘main’ news team took over.

Lucinda knew, at first, her audience was small. Not many movers and shakers watched her during the early morning hours. But the opportunities were there. She’d grown up with the dirt, the scum of the earth. Her former classmates had turned into junkies, whores and prison inmates. But not Lucinda. She would never be one of them. Those days were long past her. The blonde hair, the heavy tv makeup, the designer wardrobe…even if she’d run into one of her former classmates on the streets, they never would’ve recognized her.

Lucinda who? They’d say. We didn’t have any Lucinda Quant at our high school. No way would P.S. Number 155 produce someone as pretty and polished as she.

Lucinda never visited home. Never wrote her mother. Once she’d left for college, she pretended she’d sprung from the fields. A mysterious girl from nowhere. And when she’d gotten her six-figure job on National News Today , she’d made a point of cutting all ties. After college she’d left no forwarding address, no phone number, no way to contact her. Her mother and younger siblings would only siphon off her hard-gained wealth. They didn’t earn it. They didn’t help her. They’d actually dragged her down all these years with their low ways and appalling lack of intellect.

Lucinda had achieved everything on her own by sheer force of will, through determination and effort. She’d climbed hurdles and broken through walls all on her own, and she was dead set on enjoying her success alone. Without interference. Without guilt.

In five years she’d clawed her way onto the main news program – 7 to 9. Morning prime time. They’d booted Missy Blaise from the top spot and ‘transitioned’ her into a mid-day snoozefest talk show for women with midlife crises called “Ladies Lunch.” Lucinda knew the truth – aging, blonde, female reporters did not last long at the news desk, and Missy’s stiff, blonde bob had faded from vibrant yellow to curdled cream.

Jim Dasher, Lucinda’s new partner from 7 to 9, had been on the program as many years as Missy, but his gray sideburns and faded blue eyes made him more likeable in the eyes of the audience. Lucinda and the other women on TV knew the game. Men had a much longer career in news than women.

For thirteen years Lucinda ruled the morning news desk at National News Today . She interviewed heads of state, business tycoons and entertainment icons. The ruthlessness she’d honed during her turbulent high school days and competitive college years had kept her firmly entrenched in her job. Younger, prettier reporters had tried their best to loosen her grip, but none had succeeded—until Lucinda hit forty.

The economy had the worst timing ever. The same day as her fortieth birthday, Lucinda’s boss, Cranston Ford, had called her into his office. She thought he was going to take her out to lunch. He’d taken her out for lunch every single one of her birthdays since her first day on the job with National News Today . She’d even already picked out her favorite Japanese-Italian fusion place downtown. Not cheap. But Cranston Ford could afford it. Television news mogul. Billionaire. Laying out two hundred bucks on lunch was chump change for someone like him.