Orbit 2

John left him at the window. He had read the memos. Herb was right; all he had wanted was to be left alone. It had been his idea; after twelve years of work in a laboratory on prototypes he had shown his — gimmick— to Herb Javits. Herb had been one of the biggest producers on television then; now he was the biggest producer in the world.

The gimmick was simple enough. A person fitted with electrodes in his brain could transmit his emotions, which in turn could be broadcast and picked up by the helmets to be felt by the audience. No words, or thoughts went out, only basic emotions — fear, love, anger, hatred. . That, tied in with a camera showing what the person saw, with a voice dubbed in, and you were the person having the experience, with one important difference — you could turn it off if it got to be too much. The “actor” couldn’t. A simple gimmick. You didn’t really need the camera and the sound track; many users never turned them on at all, but let their own imaginations fill in the emotional broadcast.

The helmets were not sold, only leased or rented after a short, easy fitting session. A year’s lease cost fifty dollars, and there were over thirty-seven million subscribers. Herb had created his own network when the demand for more hours squeezed him out of regular television. From a one-hour weekly show, it had gone to one hour nightly, and now it was on the air eight hours a day live, with another eight hours of taped programming.

What had started out as a day in the life of anne Beaumont was now a life in the life of Anne Beaumont, and the audience was insatiable.

Anne came in then, surrounded by the throng of hangers-on that mobbed her daily — hairdressers, masseurs, fitters, script men. . She looked tired. She waved the crowd out when she saw John and Herb were there. “Hello, John,” she said, “Herb.”

“Anne, baby, you’re looking great!” Herb said. He took her in his arms and kissed her solidly. She stood still, her hands at her sides.

She was tall, very slender, with wheat-colored hair and gray eyes. Her cheekbones were wide and high, her mouth firm and almost too large. Against her deep red-gold suntan her teeth looked whiter than John remembered. Although too firm and strong ever to be thought of as pretty, she was a very beautiful woman. After Herb released her, she turned to John, hesitated only a moment, then extended a slim, sun-browned hand. It was cool and dry in his.

“How have you been, John? It’s been a long time.”

He was very glad she didn’t kiss him, or call him darling. She smiled only slightly and gently removed her hand from his. He moved to the bar as she turned to Herb.

“I’m through, Herb.” Her voice was too quiet. She accepted a whiskey sour from John, but kept her gaze on Herb.

“What’s the matter, honey? I was just watching you, baby. You were great today, like always. You’ve still got it, kid. It’s coming through like always.”

“What about this robbery? You must be out of your mind. .”

“Yeah, that. Listen, Anne baby, I swear to you I don’t know a thing about it. Laughton must have been giving you the straight goods on that. You know we agreed that the rest of this week you just have a good time, remember? That comes over too, baby. When you have a good time and relax, thirty-seven million people are enjoying life and relaxing. That’s good. They can’t be stimulated all the time. They like the variety.” Wordlessly John held out a glass, scotch and water. Herb took it without looking.

Anne was watching him coldly. Suddenly she laughed. It was a cynical, bitter sound. “You’re not a damn fool, Herb. Don’t try to act like one.” She sipped her drink again, staring at him over the rim of the glass. “I’m warning you, if anyone shows up here to rob me, I’m going to treat him like a real burglar. I bought a gun after today’s broadcast, and I learned how to shoot when I was ten. I still know how. I’ll kill him, Herb, whoever it is.”

“Baby,” Herb started, but she cut him short.

“And this is my last week. As of Saturday, I’m through.”

“You can’t do that, Anne,” Herb said. John watched him closely, searching for a sign of weakness; he saw nothing. Herb exuded confidence. “Look around, Anne, at this room, your clothes, everything. . You.are the richest woman in the world, having the time of your life, able to go anywhere, do anything. .”

“While the whole world watches—”

“So what? It doesn’t stop you, does it?” Herb started to pace, his steps jerky and quick. “You knew that when you signed the contract. You’re a rare girl, Anne, beautiful, emotional, intelligent. Think of all those women who’ve got nothing but you. If you quit them, what do they do? Die? They might, you know. For the first time in their lives they’re able to feel like they’re living. You’re giving them what no one ever did before, what was only hinted at in books and films in the old days. Suddenly they know what it feels like to face excitement, to experience love, to feel contented and peaceful. Think of them, Anne, empty, with nothing in their lives but you, what you’re able to give them. Thirty-seven million drabs, Anne, who never felt anything but boredom and frustration until you gave them life. What do they have? Work, kids, bills. You’ve given them the world, baby! Without you they wouldn’t even want to live anymore.”

She wasn’t listening. Almost dreamily she said, “I talked to my lawyers, Herb, and the contract is meaningless. You’ve already broken it over and over. I agreed to learn a lot of new things. I did. My God! I’ve climbed mountains, hunted lions, learned to ski and water-ski, but now you want me to die a little bit each week. . That airplane crash, not bad, just enough to terrify me. Then the sharks. I really do think it was having sharks brought in when I was skiing that did it, Herb. You see, you will kill me. It will happen, and you won’t be able to top it, Herb. Not ever.”

There was a hard, waiting silence following her words. No! John shouted soundlessly. He was looking at Herb. He had stopped pacing when she started to talk. Something flicked across his face — surprise, fear, something not readily identifiable. Then his face went blank and he raised his glass and finished the scotch and water, replacing the glass on the bar. When he turned again, he was smiling with disbelief.

“What’s really bugging you, Anne? There have been plants before. You knew about them. Those lions didn’t just happen by, you know. And the avalanche needed a nudge from someone. You know that. What else is bugging you?”

“I’m in love, Herb.”

Herb waved that aside impatiently. “Have you ever watched your own show, Anne?” She shook her head. “I thought not. So you wouldn't know about the expansion that took place last month, after we planted that new transmitter in your head. Johnny boy’s been busy, Anne. You know these scientist types, never satisfied, always improving, changing. Where’s the camera, Anne? Do you ever know where it is anymore? Have you even seen a camera in the past couple of weeks, or a recorder of any sort? You have not, and you won’t again. You’re on now, honey.” His voice was quite low, amused almost. “In fact the only time you aren’t on is when you’re sleeping. I know you’re in love. I know who he is. I know how he makes you feel. I even know how much money he makes a week. I should know, Anne baby. I pay him.” He had come closer to her with each word, finishing with his face only inches from hers. He didn’t have a chance to duck the flashing slap that jerked his head around, and before either of them realized it, he had hit her back, knocking her into a chair.

The silence grew, became something ugly and heavy, as if words were being born and dying without utterance because they were too brutal for the human spirit to bear. There was a spot of blood on Herb’s mouth where Anne’s diamond ring had cut him. He touched it and looked at his finger. “It’s all being taped now, honey, even this,” he said. He turned his back on her and went to the bar.