While cameras continued to capture picture, and microphones to record dialogue, set piece filming for the current segment was completed and the production room should have been winding down for the next hour or two, stress leaching off until it began winding up towards the next live segment.
Instead, the atmosphere was thick, tense with expectation.
Head producer Heshaq’d said, ‘Could someone please get Darvosh to the briefing room for thirty-two twenty. And make sure they know I’ll be speaking with them.’ Chier voice was tight, anger battened down so as to not take out frustration on those in the room who’d moved cameras and microphones into and out of position with an expertise chier appreciated greatly. When the screw up of the segment had been dealt with, then chier would be able to come back and congratulate their professionalism.
But now there was thirty minutes to work out how to deal with yet another screw up by Darvosh. It’s role as eye-candy allowed for a level of simplicity in the character. Something that generically gorgeous was almost expected to not be very bright, to appeal across wide swathes of the viewing public by being both pretty and not intellectually threatening.
It was why the selection process took so long. It took time and effort to find someone who had the intelligence to understand the role, but also the ability to retain a core of self-identification which could withstand a continual portrayal of them being attractive, but dim. To accept they would be a figure of both adulation and derision.
And now, it’d screwed up two consecutive live segments by getting their dialogue wrong. Writing a live reality show was meant to be simple. You gathered a cast of attractive people, put them in a pleasant location, gave them a few simple tasks, and directions on who should display attraction to who, recorded everything, and edit the whole lot to complement the few segments recorded live.
The first few episodes were always ropey as the characters got used to their roles, their personas, but by episode eighty-six screwing up the scripted live segments was a deliberate choice, not an accident. Especially when it happened in consecutive segments.
Heshaq’d sat in a darkened room with a beaker of leaf in chier tendrils. The odour rose in steaming wisps and chier inhaled it through lower breathing nacelles. Chier held the breath, then sucked through the upper nacelles until they were full, and held there as well. Finally a giddy feeling arose and chier allowed the breath to wind its way through and fill chier with a sense of wellbeing.
Chier continued to count in chier’s head, seeking a spot of equanimity which would help with the confrontation to come.
There was no doubt that Darvosh was the most popular character in the show, one of the original cast. Darvosh knew that fulfilling the shows requirements was what kept it in a job, knew other cast members had been been removed and replaced for trying to wrest the narrative in their direction.
Still, it’d changed it’s dialogue for two live segments running, changing the trajectory of it’s role in a way which was causing the writing team significant problems.
The forth-coming meeting would be the first time Darvosh was presented with the reality that It’s longevity and popularity within the show were no guarantee of ongoing participation.
‘I really don’t see the issue,’ Darvosh said. ‘It’s a reality show. I’m being real. If it means a few lines have to be re-written then that’s no big deal. If the writers we have can’t do it, get new ones who can.’
‘That’s the thing, Darvosh,’ Heshaq’d said. ‘We, do have good writers. Experienced writers. Writers who have experience across multiple award winning reality shows covering all the different variants of the genre. We also have sound and vision editors skilled and dedicated enough to recut a whole show to follow the narrative you put out. They’re in the process of doing it again. And you need to pony up some appreciation to your co-stars, who are also covering for your self-aggrandising re-writes. And they are re-writes, Darvosh. Your lines are too smooth to be ad-libs. I say that as someone who has been producer of several thousand hours of reality television. There’s nothing straight-from-the-nest about your lines in these last two shows. And I’ve started reviewing the live stream in between. You’re good. Too good for this. With a memory for lines, for pushing conversations in the direction you want, you could go into films, or politics. And, unless your next few segments are word perfect to the lines you’re provided with, those will be the options open to you, because you’ll no longer be part of this production.’
The door opened and they both looked up. It was Garntsh, Heshaq’d’s assistant. It said, ‘Sorry, I know you weren’t to be interrupted, but it’s important.’
Heshaq’d waved fronds in a manner which could be either frustration or dismissal. Chier said, ‘What is it?’
‘There’s someone, some folks, from head office here. They want to speak with you.’
‘Who have the studio sent?’
‘No, no the studio. Head office head office. It’s a Gnd Poloumb.’
Heshaq’d frowned. Firstly there was the question of why the corporate big wigs were down here among the weeds of a division which produced a tiny proportion of overall profits, despite them being a huge part of the division’s income. Secondly Poloumb rang a bell chier struggled to place.
Standing, chier looked at Darvosh. ‘This isn’t finished. Wait here.’ Chier turned to go.
Darvosh grinned, it’s mouths drooping to display feeding sheets. ’Say hi to my brood-heth,’ it said.
Heshaq’d stopped, the name slotting into place. Ploumb was Darvosh’s forename. Chier cursed, wishing chier’d remembered. The changes at Corporate HQ had been rolling through for months and chier’d mostly ignored them. Now that ignorance was coming to claim its victim. Chier looked at Darvosh, chier stomach’s churning. ‘I will’ chier said.
story by stuartcturnbull image by AstroAi on Pixabay
