Adventures of the Artificial Woman by Thomas Berger

percentage of the gate that would go to the educational institution. The principal discounted Kidd’s argument that the cultural gain to the community should not be assessed in dollars and cents.
    Kidd’s pleasure in his first real hit was also diminished by the demand of the hitherto unpaid actors to participate in it monetarily. In this they were abetted by Phyllis, who frustrated Kidd’s effort to drive a wedge between her and the rest of the cast.
    â€œNo, Howard, you and the school board cannot keep the entire income for yourselves. There would be no production without the actors.”
    â€œThese no-talent amateurs can easily be replaced. The audiences come to see you , Phyl. And you’re being paid.”
    â€œA hundred dollars per week is not very much.” As she had been assured by Doug Bigelow. Phyllis still did not quite understand money, and she determined to do research into the subject when she could spare a moment from Shakespearean matters; the Scottish Play, despite Kidd’s theory to the contrary, was unlikely to draw crowds forever, according to what she had observed of human fickleness, and she was already planning for its successor, probably The Merry Wives of Windsor .
    â€œI’m doubling it on the spot,” said Kidd.
    â€œI believe you are an unscrupulous man, Howard,” Phyllis told him. “Now that you’ve increased the performances to six per week, and the ticket price is twenty-five dollars, between seventy-five and a hundred thousand comes into the box office. Unless half this sum is split amongst the actors, I will walk out and stage a rival production at Our Lady of Mercy Academy. I’ve already got an okay from the Mother Superior.”
    Kidd was bitter, saying that Catholics would do anything for a buck, but he had no choice except to agree to Phyllis’s terms.
    The cast members were initially pleased to hear of the new deal Phyllis had negotiated, but their acceptance proved brief. Doug Bigelow believed he should, in the title role, get half the take, whereas the actors who played the other principal parts maintained that the first dozen names on the traditional dramatis personae should get equal amounts, at which the women protested vigorously, for even the leading female characters, including Lady Macbeth, were not listed until the roster of males was exhausted. Those who played the Witches were especially vocal. They were certain, based on fan mail, stage-door Johnnies, and obscene phone calls (they had previously been moonlighting from fast-food jobs), that a significant proportion of the audiences was attracted to the theater by their topless performances.
    When Phyllis suggested that counting the number of lines spoken by the respective characters (an easy job for her) and basing the payments thereupon, several persons, beginning with old Ned Stilling, who played both Banquo and Banquo’s silent Ghost, made vociferous objection: words were never the sole medium of the actor’s art, else radio drama would still reign supreme.
    The issue was resolved by a deus ex machina. Word of mouth had quickly made Phyllis’s production of Macbeth locally famous. A week or so more was required before the news reached the city and caught the attention of that drama critic who was ever alert to new trends and voices, as well as representatives of Actors’ Equity, who promptly came out and signed up the whole cast, thereby taking on the matter of salaries, a favorable development to everybody except Howard Kidd.
    But the critic returned to town and wrote a scathingly negative review that dismayed everyone but Phyllis, who predicted that with such a conspicuous advertisement the production would acquire national fame, the reviewer having labeled it as sheer pornography, indeed the most egregious kind that poses as art.
    And she was right, as usual. The area TV channels sent reporters, most of whose stories were picked up by the national