Starzel, p.30
Starzel, page 30
"This could work!" I exclaim aloud. Like a flash of lightning, the idea hits and now I’m scurrying toward the town center.
“What if I got her to do it? Or at least what if I can talk her into helping me to do it?”
There’s a bus stop just a few hundred meters ahead. I sprint to arrive just in time to catch it.
Arriving at the town center stop is a dizzying experience. So much is different, it’s as if history has already begun to change. The small tavern with a half dozen plastic tables and chairs is now bustling with patrons. Impressive designed outdoor tables and comfortable chairs are now in the dozens and crowds of people are in a line awaiting a seat. I approach the tavern in disbelief at what was here a week ago.
The waiter pops through the doors with an over-filled tray of drinks and serves a table before heading back inside at a fast pace. He sees my reflection in the glass door panel and stops. Turns toward me and through an excited laugh says, “Story Man!” His arms and hands extended as he runs to me and smothers me in a whole-body hug. “I didn’t realize how heavy and big you are.” He says while flexing his huge biceps and shoulders after putting me down.
“You did this,” he says. His left hand motioned toward the expansive tables, chairs, and customers. “Not all of it. I had these tables and chairs out for repairs and resurfacing. They came back a few days ago. But the people, the line of waiting customers. Wow, this I never before had. The day you told that crazy story about the four sons from four fathers and now everybody comes here to see the tavern and eat my food. Especially the gazpacho. You are welcome here anytime and I will serve you gratis for life.”
He comes in for another full-body hug but I stiff-arm his approach. “Wait up big guy. I’m not used to being lifted up and swung like a toy. There is something you can do for me. At least, that is, I hope you can help me.”
“Whatever you need,” he says. “Tell me everything.”
“The woman journalist that was here the day I told the story. Do you know who she is? I mean, I need to find her.”
“Everybody knows her,” he says. “She has a late-night syndicated show and one of the few that can be seen from The Great Starzel Republic. She started telling people about this tavern on her show. When you see her, you tell her she eats here for gratis same as you.”
“That I will do, I’ll let her know,” I say. “What is her name?”
“She’s called Maya. Maya Stevens.”
Before I could get ten steps he calls out, “Thank you, Story Man. What is your name?”
I turn and salute him with honor and respect as I should have done in the first place. Then I say to him, “Eulǝr. My name is Eulǝr.”
Activating the HUD, my mind races with possibilities. Maya Stevens is the renowned host of the well-known late-night show. The woman I seek, the one who holds the key to unraveling the cure for humanity.
Back in my room, I access the virtual interface, my vision transforming into a sea of holographic displays. My eyes and thoughts dance across the interface, searching for any contact information, any clue that could lead me to Maya. The HUD's algorithms sift through vast amounts of data, scanning networks, news articles, and social media platforms.
A recent mention of Maya Stevens in connection to Pluto Studios, located in Culver City. My heart quickens with anticipation as I tap into the virtual communication channels, attempting to establish contact.
The display flickers to life, displaying the Pluto Studios logo. I compose my message, carefully crafting each word to convey the urgency and importance of my mission. With reckless anticipation, I send the message, hoping that my plea for assistance will reach Maya's attention amidst the sea of messages flooding her inbox.
Minutes turn into hours as I anxiously await a response, my eyes fixated on the HUD's display. The bustling park around me fades into the background as I immerse myself in the virtual realm, desperate for a breakthrough.
Finally, a notification flashes on the screen. My heart skips a beat as I read the words that illuminate the display. It's a reply from Maya Stevens, accepting my request for a meeting. Relief floods over me mingled with a renewed sense of purpose.
>-Where can I find Maya Stevens?-<
+_Studio G, Pluto Production Studios. Formerly Amazon Studios._+
+_Would you like a map?_+
>-How far from my location?-<
+_Sixty-two-week walk from your current location._+
It’s my only chance. I’ll just have to hang around the studio, like a star-struck groupie, and hope she’ll see me.
>-Locate the woman in black.-<
LOG ENTRY SEVEN: DAY one hundred and two. Progress is slow today, like yesterday, and I hang out in front of the tall fences surrounding the Pluto offices and studio all day. There are a few dozen star-struck fans of Studio G here with me. They are a lively, hyper-anxious, and also unsettled group. The virus has had a particularly harsh effect on them and they are left with notable personality disorders. Each of them has shared many conspiracy beliefs with me, and they’re passionate about getting one opportunity to prove their theory is true so everyone would believe them instead of treating them like they have a disease. I’m anxious about the meeting with Maya, and—in three days I'll have to leave for The First Priority celebration.
I’ve managed to find a few crates to stand on. I hope by standing on the stacked crates I will be a little bit of a standout when the celebrities and crews are arriving. Hoping also that one of them recognizes me from the tavern scene While checking the stability of the stacked crates, all of a sudden the groupies start clamoring towards the fence barricades at the studio entrance. I hear one of them say, “It’s Maya!” and then someone else confirms, “It is Maya Stevens!”
In a flash, my thoughts activate the Neuralinks and organoids in my spine and as I take three quick steps towards the fence, my body leaps over the razor wire at the top of the five-meter high boundary. Once back on the ground and on the other side of the fence I make a mad dash towards the entrance and the caravan of vehicles approaching the studio.
>-Locate Maya Stevens.-<
+_Maya Stevens is eighteen meters straight ahead._+
A dotted line and directional arrow appear in the HUD. But the studio’s security bots form a wall around the caravan of stars and production crews when they see me, the intruder, coming toward them. I prepare to be attacked by the security bots when . . .
+_Connection request._+
>-Accept the connection.-<
→Unidentified message on connection #1: “What? Are you crazy?←
>-I must speak with Maya Stevens. She is expecting me.-<
>-She knows me as the gazpacho storyteller.-<
>-I need her help.-<
The security bots follow an unknown command and stand down. When they disband their protective barricade I can see Maya Stevens. She motions for me to join her. As I slow my pace to a jog. Take a few more strides and join her. I look all around for the Syganoid who helped me. None of the faces I see match the HUD connection request.
Her voice is panicked, “Let’s get into the building and we can talk in my office.” As we began walking toward the myriad of buildings ahead of us. She doesn’t say anything to me until we get into her office and she closes the door. She pauses for a moment, leaning her back against the door. Then as she forces herself to a more composed her, she walks toward me making a hand gesture toward a chair.
“Please, sit here. I’m very happy to see you again.”
>-Disconnect from all others.-<
+_All connections are disconnected._+
>-Activate extreme privacy protocols.-<
+_Activating._+
+_No listening devices detected within a fifteen-meter radius._+
Within the elaborate office, the walls proudly display a multitude of journalism awards, symbolizing her remarkable achievements and contributions to the field. These accolades speak to her excellence and dedication as a journalist, further enhancing her reputation within The Great Starzel Republic.
Interspersed among the journalism awards, the walls also showcase a series of striking posters featuring Nancy Pelosi. These posters serve as powerful visual reminders of her political stature and influence. They depict Pelosi in various settings, capturing her role as a respected leader within the Starzel Republic and underscoring her impact on its political landscape.
The fusion of journalism awards and Nancy Pelosi posters in her office creates an atmosphere where her professional accomplishments intertwine with her role as a key figure in The Great Starzel Republic. It highlights the deep connection between her commitment to journalism and her significant role within the republic's political framework.
“I need to ask for your help,” I tell her.
“With the cure, I can only hope,” she quips with a note of sarcasm as if there would never be a day when a cure could be had. “Did you think you were the only one who knows there is a virus spreading?”
“Yes. With a cure. Though it may be risky and there’s no way to know if the Aryans will detect it and counter it before we get everyone healthy. Whatever comes of it won’t matter until we get ... until you get the opportunity in a starting place.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“I have an Omegadrive that needs to get plugged into a computer that has the shooting board software. Once the Omegadrive is plugged in, the shooting board software will be modified in two ways. First, it stops the brainwashing, and second, it promotes a cure for the infection.”
She contemplates, but for half a beat, “Won’t someone notice the software has been modified or somehow tampered with? Don’t get me wrong. I mean I am very excited that there is this cure. The entire republic will be healed! I’m very excited. But, I don’t want there to be repercussions to make life worse than what the population already suffers."
“I’ve made the mods undetectable. But, I suppose there’s always a chance, though it’s very unlikely these changes will be detected.”
MAYA STEVENS SITS IN quiet contemplation for several minutes. “I’ve got an idea how to get the Omegadrive plugged in.
“Listen while I talk this thought through with you. So, you see, over the last four and a half months the team and I have been shooting a documentary. The documentary is about the history of the Trump Nation Confederacy. My great-grandmother from many years ago was married to Donald Trump when he destroyed the United States and began the Fifteenth Aryan War. I am her namesake. I’ve wanted to make this documentary since I was a little girl and after reading her memoirs. We were shooting a part of the documentary the day you told us about the woman with four sons from four different men.
“Right now, the director and three editors are making final cuts and getting ready to produce the video. I’m supposed to be hands-off at this point in production, but I think I can get into the editorial room and that's where we can find the director's laptop. Her laptop is what they will use to make the drafts and the final video since this is the only system with the software. Anyway, that’s a whole different story about why we can only have one system with the software in Studio G.
“That’s it. What do you think of my idea? I’ll just go into the production room and pretend to be curious to know how things are going. I’ll find a way to get the Omegadrive plugged in.”
Her plan sounds good, but maybe I’m just anxious to be done with it and get free of Planet Earth. “You will need to have the system on and active so that the drive can install the updates,” I say. Trying to ensure our success.
“OK. I can do that.”
“You will need to give the drive at least two minutes to complete the updates. It's best to go for three minutes just to be certain,” I caution.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make it five minutes!”
“You need to make sure that no one else gets the Omegadrive. If anyone else gets the drive, they will likely discover what’s on it.”
“I’ll bring the drive back here. Is there any way we can know if the software was modified?” She asks. Adding a dose of her growing confidence.
After thinking about her question for a few, I ask, “Are you having a premiere for the documentary before broadcasting?”
“Yes, actually. We are supposed to have a first showing for the entire team and families the day after tomorrow. I’m scheduled to leave the day after for some big event in Katmarnu, so everyone is frantically completing production today and no later than tomorrow so we can hold the first showing. Why? Is it important?” She asks.
“Can you get me into the first showing?”
“Yes. Of course. You can come as my special guest,” she says.
After readjusting my posture and removing my backpack I say. “If I can watch the documentary from start to finish, there is a way that I can detect if the software modifications were a success.”
“You mean with your Neuralink?
My eyes catch her’s as I’m shocked and I hesitate for a split second and she tries to reassure me. “I know you’re a humanoid. I’ve known since you made eye contact with me on the bus when you asked me to move out of the handicapped seat. Only a humanoid would work so diligently to make eye contact with another person. Don’t worry though. You’re safe with me. No one would believe there are humanoids anymore anyway. Well, maybe they would believe it in the Trump Nation Confederacy or The Heartland Nations. Those people are into one conspiracy after the next.”
With that said, I laid the Omegadrive on the desktop and then slid it over to her. Before lifting my fingers from the drive, I pause for dramatic effect. Then I look away from her eyes.
>-Track the omegadrive.-<
+_Tracking is initiated._+
+_Tracking confirmed._+
+_Do you want visual tracking now?_+
>-Yes.-<
+_Tracking live in the lower center view screen._+
As our conversation comes to a close, Maya reaches for the Omegadrive on the desktop, her fingers brushing against mine briefly. We exchange a knowing glance, affirming our shared purpose and the trust that binds us to this crucial mission.
“Wait here. It may be a while.” She grabs the drive and hurries out of the office.
In my left hand, I clutch the destiny stone recalling the giant of a man's words. "You'll know because there will be nothing else left to do."
Maya Stevens makes her way across the studio offices and exits through the west entrance. She takes a robocar ride around to the back of the office building to the studios where the editing room is located. She easily slips past the security bot at the entrance and makes her way upstairs to her production room.
As Maya steps into the room, the atmosphere shifts. The video production room is dimly lit, with a soft, ambient glow emanating from the strategically placed spotlight. The space feels intimate and secluded, with only a small team of three working diligently on her new story.
The room is a sanctuary of creativity and collaboration, a haven where ideas take shape and narratives come to life. The walls are adorned with concept boards, filled with photographs, news clippings, and sketches that inspire Maya's investigative piece.
The team members, each immersed in their respective tasks, bring a diverse range of skills and expertise to the table. The cinematographer meticulously adjusts the lighting and camera angles, striving to capture the essence of Maya's story visually. An editor sits at a sleek workstation, expertly piecing together footage and sound bites, weaving them into a seamless narrative tapestry. A sound engineer hones in on the audio, ensuring every word and ambient sound enhances the impact of the story. She enters the small space to find the three hovering over a single display. They are discussing color mix in a section of Maya’s documentary.
Despite the focused intensity, a palpable sense of camaraderie and shared purpose pervades the room. Conversations are hushed, filled with the occasional nod or approving smile as the team members exchange ideas and offer feedback. The hum of equipment and the tap of keyboards provide a rhythmic soundtrack, underscoring the collaborative energy at play. Through a temperature and air-controlled atmosphere to mediate odors and machine heat, the air is clean, cool, and dry.
Over the past many years working together, Maya rooted her place among her team, and she has become a vital part of the creative process. Her vision, passion, and determination infuse the room with an extra spark. The team recognizes her as the driving force behind the story, and they work tirelessly to bring her vision to fruition.
IN THIS SMALL, INTIMATE space, Maya and her team forged a deep connection with their network audience, fueled by a shared commitment to lifting the veil to expose truth. They are united in their pursuit of journalistic integrity, ready to challenge the status quo and shine a light on taboo stories that have the power to reshape their world.
She looks around the room trying to locate the director’s laptop when she spots it just a few steps away from her. She’s holding the Omegadrive tightly as she walks to the workstation where the laptop sits. It is on but it’s screen sharing to the same monitor where the team is huddled. As she inserts the Omegadrive into the ul45 port one of the editors yells out, ”Don’t touch that Maya. Please!”
Another editor turns abruptly and asks her, “What are you doing here Maya? We are on a tight schedule and have our hands full.”
Unknowing these precise happenings, Eulǝr waits back in Maya’s office. He clutches the destiny stone in his right hand, the same hand that wears his mother's ring. Present and undistracted he is watching the HUD, monitoring the Omegadrive progress.
+_Omegadrive attached to recognized device 1._+
>-Establish control of device 1.-<
+_Device 1 is in your control._+
>-Freeze the display on device 1.-<
+_Display locked on device 1._+
>-Connect, upload, and install contents from Omegadrive.-<
+_Omegadrive accepted by device 1._+
+_Uupload initiated._+
+_Upload and install password required._+
