interviews with Ruth and Jimi?”
“Slices. Representative slices. Plus a little surrounding info to set the scene.”
“But those interviews were shot on my amateur cameras. They weren’t intended—”
Getz leaned forward over the table toward Kim. “Fact is, the so-called amateur look in this case turns out to be perfect. Sometimes the zero-production-values look is exactly right. It says honesty. Just like your personality. Earnest. Open. Young. Innocent. See, that’s another thing our test audience told us. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I will. Because I want you to trust me. They love you. They absolutely love you! So I’m thinking we have a future in front of us. What do you think of that?”
Kim was wide-eyed, her mouth open. “I don’t know. I mean … they just saw a slice of an interview?”
“Wrapped in a little blanket of explanation, perspective—like we’d do in the actual show. The testing vehicle on the restricted podcast is put together like a one-hour show, composed of four program concepts—thirteen minutes each. So in this case we included yours, plus three other programs we’re considering. This testing vehicle is called
Run It or Dump It
. Some people think that sounds crude. But there’s a good reason for it. It’s
visceral
.” Getz intoned the word witha confidential, almost reverential intensity. “You want to know the real RAM News success secret? That’s it. It’s
visceral
. In the old days, the networks used to think that news was news and entertainment was entertainment. That’s why their news operations lost money. They were sitting on a gold mine and didn’t know it. They thought news was about pure facts, presented as boringly as possible.” Getz shook his head indulgently at mankind’s capacity for delusional thinking.
Gurney smiled. “Obviously they got it all wrong.”
Getz pointed a finger at him, like a teacher drawing attention to a bright student. “Obviously! News is life, life is emotion, emotion is
visceral
. Drama, blood, triumph, tears. It’s not about some starched asshole reading dry facts and figures. It’s about conflict. It’s about fuck you! … No, fuck
you
! … Who the fuck are you saying ‘fuck you’ to? … Bam! bam! bam! Forgive my language—but you get what I’m saying?”
“Clear as crystal,” said Gurney mildly.
“So that’s why we call the show where we test our ideas
Run It or Dump It
. Because that’s what people like. Simple choices. Power. Like the emperor looking down on the gladiator. Thumbs-up, he lives. Thumbs-down, he dies. People love black and white. Gray gives them headaches. Nuance makes them nauseous.”
Kim blinked, swallowed. “And …
Orphans of Murder
… got a thumbs-up?”
“Big thumb, way up!”
Kim started to ask another question, but Getz cut her off, continuing along his own train of thought. “Way up! Which I find personally gratifying. Karma, full circle! Because it was our original coverage of the Good Shepherd murder spree that catapulted RAM News to the top. Where we belong. The idea of coming back to it now, exactly ten years later—that has the perfect vibe. I feel it in my bones! Now, how about a fantastic lunch?”
On cue, Claudia reappeared, balancing a large tray, which she placed on the coffee table. Her gel-spiked hair, which Gurney had originally taken for black, he now noted was a deep blue—a blue just a bit darker than her eyes, which met his momentarily with a disturbing frankness. He doubted she was out of her teens. She pirouetted on thetip of one blade, then cruised languidly across the room, looking back once before gliding out of sight.
There were three plates on the tray. On each there was an elaborate, delicately arranged display of sushi. The colors were beautiful, the shapes intricate. None of the ingredients were familiar to Gurney—nor, apparently, to Kim, who was studying the display with alarm.
“Another Toshiro masterpiece,” said
“Slices. Representative slices. Plus a little surrounding info to set the scene.”
“But those interviews were shot on my amateur cameras. They weren’t intended—”
Getz leaned forward over the table toward Kim. “Fact is, the so-called amateur look in this case turns out to be perfect. Sometimes the zero-production-values look is exactly right. It says honesty. Just like your personality. Earnest. Open. Young. Innocent. See, that’s another thing our test audience told us. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I will. Because I want you to trust me. They love you. They absolutely love you! So I’m thinking we have a future in front of us. What do you think of that?”
Kim was wide-eyed, her mouth open. “I don’t know. I mean … they just saw a slice of an interview?”
“Wrapped in a little blanket of explanation, perspective—like we’d do in the actual show. The testing vehicle on the restricted podcast is put together like a one-hour show, composed of four program concepts—thirteen minutes each. So in this case we included yours, plus three other programs we’re considering. This testing vehicle is called
Run It or Dump It
. Some people think that sounds crude. But there’s a good reason for it. It’s
visceral
.” Getz intoned the word witha confidential, almost reverential intensity. “You want to know the real RAM News success secret? That’s it. It’s
visceral
. In the old days, the networks used to think that news was news and entertainment was entertainment. That’s why their news operations lost money. They were sitting on a gold mine and didn’t know it. They thought news was about pure facts, presented as boringly as possible.” Getz shook his head indulgently at mankind’s capacity for delusional thinking.
Gurney smiled. “Obviously they got it all wrong.”
Getz pointed a finger at him, like a teacher drawing attention to a bright student. “Obviously! News is life, life is emotion, emotion is
visceral
. Drama, blood, triumph, tears. It’s not about some starched asshole reading dry facts and figures. It’s about conflict. It’s about fuck you! … No, fuck
you
! … Who the fuck are you saying ‘fuck you’ to? … Bam! bam! bam! Forgive my language—but you get what I’m saying?”
“Clear as crystal,” said Gurney mildly.
“So that’s why we call the show where we test our ideas
Run It or Dump It
. Because that’s what people like. Simple choices. Power. Like the emperor looking down on the gladiator. Thumbs-up, he lives. Thumbs-down, he dies. People love black and white. Gray gives them headaches. Nuance makes them nauseous.”
Kim blinked, swallowed. “And …
Orphans of Murder
… got a thumbs-up?”
“Big thumb, way up!”
Kim started to ask another question, but Getz cut her off, continuing along his own train of thought. “Way up! Which I find personally gratifying. Karma, full circle! Because it was our original coverage of the Good Shepherd murder spree that catapulted RAM News to the top. Where we belong. The idea of coming back to it now, exactly ten years later—that has the perfect vibe. I feel it in my bones! Now, how about a fantastic lunch?”
On cue, Claudia reappeared, balancing a large tray, which she placed on the coffee table. Her gel-spiked hair, which Gurney had originally taken for black, he now noted was a deep blue—a blue just a bit darker than her eyes, which met his momentarily with a disturbing frankness. He doubted she was out of her teens. She pirouetted on thetip of one blade, then cruised languidly across the room, looking back once before gliding out of sight.
There were three plates on the tray. On each there was an elaborate, delicately arranged display of sushi. The colors were beautiful, the shapes intricate. None of the ingredients were familiar to Gurney—nor, apparently, to Kim, who was studying the display with alarm.
“Another Toshiro masterpiece,” said
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