CityPulse at Six was about to start. The show
featured street based reporting and had a mission to capture the
real life saga of Toronto life. Today it started with a horror. The
first words from the anchor-man were, “We open tonight with the
story of a terrifying knife attack in central Toronto. Two dead
from stab wounds, four more injured and the attacker shot dead by
police.”
The programme cut to an
outside reporter. “It was here, by the popular stores on Yonge
Street that today a tragedy unfolded as two people were stabbed to
death by a nineteen year old literature student.”
The report changed to a
black and white image of a young man and Brian almost jumped out of
his chair.
He knew him… It was the
kid… the electric shock kid.
“Bradley Etherington
was a bright young man with no previous trouble with authorities,”
the reporter continued. “Yet, friends tell us he suffered a sudden
and rapid psychological collapse and was exhibiting symptoms of
schizophrenia.”
Etherington… Bradley
Etherington… It was the boy he subjected to Viper-Sig. The same boy
who had thought his fingers had fallen off. The boy was dead, but
his face was on the television screen. A fleeting public television
life that transcended death.
With all of his cancer
treatment he’d forgotten about those Viper-Sig test subjects. There
was a girl, too. Suzanne… Suzanne, something or other. Good God.
The boy had lapsed into a psychotic episode only five weeks after
being exposed. Was it the Viper-Sig, or was it caused by something
else?
Brian got into the car
and drove to Special Optical Laboratories. They said they’d moved
everything to Pittsburgh, but was that just the equipment? Did they
have any notes, or paperwork still at the old lab?
A vision came as he
drove. A vision derived from the brain tumour, his new piece of
brain working hard to bring forth a new kind of truth.
In his vision, people
in an audience were gathered close to a television screen. He was
on the television and people were watching him. Seeing these people
so mesmerised somehow made television life more real than life in
the flesh. His TV persona spoke to the viewers. “In this electronic
age, we shall see ourselves translated more and more into the form
of information. We are moving towards a technological extension of
our consciousness.” The audience nodded in agreement, paying
attention. “We will see this in politicians who will be replaced by
imagery. A politician will be happy to abdicate in favour of his
image, as the image shall be more powerful than he ever could
be.”
The vision was a
revelation.
This is how his legacy
should be. He should be an image, not a real man, but a television
character. Bigger than a mortal man, more powerful, more
resonant.
He arrived at the
laboratory, unlocked the door and entered an empty shell of a
building. Whitewashed brick walls and a bare concrete floor. The
viewing booths had been ripped out. The only noticeable reminder of
what had been was the electrical conduit that channelled the power
and signal cables to where fifty television screens had been. Other
than that, it was all gone including the paperwork. There was no
way to find how to contact Suzanne, the other test subject. To find
her he needed the old paperwork; and to get that he needed to go to
Pittsburgh.
----- X -----
From the outside, the
Pittsburgh studio looked like it had been cleaned up. The badly
boarded windows had been bricked correctly. The back door had been
painted. On the roof, Brian could see satellite dishes he was sure
he’d not seen before. He tried his electronic card on the back door
and it opened. Inside, he found the lobby had been recently
decorated and the walls had been painted. He walked from the lobby
towards the main studio, becoming one with the darkness as he
passed under an illuminated red sign with the words ‘Quiet -
Filming In Progress’.
He heard some screaming
or crying out coming from
featured street based reporting and had a mission to capture the
real life saga of Toronto life. Today it started with a horror. The
first words from the anchor-man were, “We open tonight with the
story of a terrifying knife attack in central Toronto. Two dead
from stab wounds, four more injured and the attacker shot dead by
police.”
The programme cut to an
outside reporter. “It was here, by the popular stores on Yonge
Street that today a tragedy unfolded as two people were stabbed to
death by a nineteen year old literature student.”
The report changed to a
black and white image of a young man and Brian almost jumped out of
his chair.
He knew him… It was the
kid… the electric shock kid.
“Bradley Etherington
was a bright young man with no previous trouble with authorities,”
the reporter continued. “Yet, friends tell us he suffered a sudden
and rapid psychological collapse and was exhibiting symptoms of
schizophrenia.”
Etherington… Bradley
Etherington… It was the boy he subjected to Viper-Sig. The same boy
who had thought his fingers had fallen off. The boy was dead, but
his face was on the television screen. A fleeting public television
life that transcended death.
With all of his cancer
treatment he’d forgotten about those Viper-Sig test subjects. There
was a girl, too. Suzanne… Suzanne, something or other. Good God.
The boy had lapsed into a psychotic episode only five weeks after
being exposed. Was it the Viper-Sig, or was it caused by something
else?
Brian got into the car
and drove to Special Optical Laboratories. They said they’d moved
everything to Pittsburgh, but was that just the equipment? Did they
have any notes, or paperwork still at the old lab?
A vision came as he
drove. A vision derived from the brain tumour, his new piece of
brain working hard to bring forth a new kind of truth.
In his vision, people
in an audience were gathered close to a television screen. He was
on the television and people were watching him. Seeing these people
so mesmerised somehow made television life more real than life in
the flesh. His TV persona spoke to the viewers. “In this electronic
age, we shall see ourselves translated more and more into the form
of information. We are moving towards a technological extension of
our consciousness.” The audience nodded in agreement, paying
attention. “We will see this in politicians who will be replaced by
imagery. A politician will be happy to abdicate in favour of his
image, as the image shall be more powerful than he ever could
be.”
The vision was a
revelation.
This is how his legacy
should be. He should be an image, not a real man, but a television
character. Bigger than a mortal man, more powerful, more
resonant.
He arrived at the
laboratory, unlocked the door and entered an empty shell of a
building. Whitewashed brick walls and a bare concrete floor. The
viewing booths had been ripped out. The only noticeable reminder of
what had been was the electrical conduit that channelled the power
and signal cables to where fifty television screens had been. Other
than that, it was all gone including the paperwork. There was no
way to find how to contact Suzanne, the other test subject. To find
her he needed the old paperwork; and to get that he needed to go to
Pittsburgh.
----- X -----
From the outside, the
Pittsburgh studio looked like it had been cleaned up. The badly
boarded windows had been bricked correctly. The back door had been
painted. On the roof, Brian could see satellite dishes he was sure
he’d not seen before. He tried his electronic card on the back door
and it opened. Inside, he found the lobby had been recently
decorated and the walls had been painted. He walked from the lobby
towards the main studio, becoming one with the darkness as he
passed under an illuminated red sign with the words ‘Quiet -
Filming In Progress’.
He heard some screaming
or crying out coming from
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