Channel Blue (10 page)

‘So what were you bred for?’

‘I’m a Grade 4 genotype,’ Amanda said without a hint of boastfulness. ‘It’s a long list, and we really should be focusing on the pitch.’

‘Just give me a taste.’

Amanda sighed. ‘Deductive reasoning, memory, risk-taking, tenacity, ambition, language skills, imagination, empathy, artistic ability, physical coordination—’

‘Christ, is that all?’ Perry interrupted. ‘No bowling ability? What about feet that don’t smell?’

Amanda frowned. She was usually not opposed to a joke – after all, ‘sense of humour’ was one of the pronounced traits that Perry had prevented her from listing. But now wasn’t the time. ‘We should be coming up with ideas.’

‘What about Dennis. What was he bred for?’

Amanda had to think about this for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. He has really nice hair.’

Perry snorted. ‘Now those are priorities.’

‘Don’t scoff. Good genes are why we don’t have any war or hunger or murder. That was all left on the laboratory floor a long time ago. Without the need for senseless aggression, we have time to enjoy our lives.’

Perry considered this. ‘So you’re bored.’

‘No,’ Amanda said, a glint of defensiveness on her armour of calm. ‘We have a great deal of leisure time.’

Perry felt his pulse race. ‘Which is why you need to watch us, right? Without us murdering each other, you people have nothing to do with your lives.’

Amanda frowned. ‘No matter what you think about us, you and your planet are going to be in reruns soon if we don’t come up with a pitch. Now, what do you have?’

Perry furrowed his brow and tried to appear deeply thoughtful, as if on the verge of a breakthrough. Unfortunately, his mind was filled with only one endlessly repeating thought:
I have no idea
.

The blinding white surface of the moon raced towards the elevator until it seemed to surround them. Perry remembered something Amanda had said during one of their classroom chats.

‘When you told me your boyfriend lived far away, is this what you meant?’

Amanda laughed. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘The moon would be easy. Jared works in administration back on the home planet. We hologram three times a week if we’re lucky.’ Amanda stared at the expanding moon with what seemed to Perry like wistfulness and he averted his eyes, angry with himself for bringing up the topic. The elevator lurched slightly to one side and fell into an easy lunar orbit, skimming from light into dark. As night enveloped the elevator, the dark side of the moon slid into view. Giant illuminated letters appeared on the surface, and Perry stared at them transfixed until he could read the entire message. It read:

THIS IS WHERE THE INSANITY BEGINS

Next to the huge, bright letters was a giant arrow pointing directly at Earth. As they descended over the ‘T’ in ‘THIS’, blinding light filled the elevator. Perry squinted his eyes while Amanda slipped on a pair of sleek dark glasses. ‘We’ve actually received complaints about it from passing spacecraft,’ she said. ‘It’s good publicity, though. And we’ve needed every bit of it.’

Perry couldn’t reply because the elevator was suddenly plummeting towards the surface of the moon. As the chalky ground rapidly rose up to meet them, he braced himself against the railing for impact. Then the elevator slowed, twisted down into a small crater, and slipped soundlessly below the surface. Before Perry had a chance to react, a soft chime sounded –
bing
– and the doors slid open, revealing a large, brightly lit hallway. Amanda’s heels clicked as she strode out onto the shiny floor. ‘Welcome to Base Station Blue,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you after decontamination.’

‘What?’ Perry said as two figures, one tall, the other short, both in white coveralls, approached him.

‘Right this way, sir,’ the short one said. Perry stared at them. As impossible as it seemed, they were the two security guards from Galaxy Entertainment.

‘Amanda!’ he shouted.

Amanda paused. ‘Don’t worry. They’re different models – copbots retrofitted as decontaminators. They’re perfectly harmless.’ She continued on her way.

Perry reluctantly let the two all-too-familiar-looking figures lead him through a sliding door into a shiny, glassed-in chamber. The tall one sealed the door and both decontaminators picked up long metal wands.

‘Disrobe, please,’ the short one said. Perry slowly removed all his clothes down to his white briefs (which, to his dismay, were stained).

‘
All
of your clothes,’ the tall one barked. Perry hesitated, then pulled off his underwear. The decontaminators ex-changed a glance and the tall one raised up his rod, which emitted a blue pulsing charge that travelled in a straight line towards Perry’s crotch. Perry felt a strange sudden warmth and glanced down to see that his pubic hair had vanished. He looked like some grotesque pre-pubescent version of himself.

‘That’s it,’ the short one said, gesturing to a door that Perry hadn’t noticed. ‘There are some new clothes for you outside.’ Perry stepped through the door into a room that was empty, except for a bench on which a blue velour tracksuit was neatly folded.

Moments later, Perry, dressed in the blue tracksuit, emerged into a hallway, where Amanda waited in an identical blue outfit.

‘Why didn’t you tell me they were going to burn off my body hair?’ he said.

‘Oh, I forgot about that,’ Amanda said, studying a small screen she held in one hand. ‘We haven’t had any pubic hair for a thousand years – they must’ve thought it was a potential source of contamination. We’re in luck. The President of Channel Blue will see us right away.’ She glanced up at Perry. ‘Any ideas yet?’

‘How am I supposed to have ideas when two robots are shooting fireballs at my crotch?’

Amanda slid the screen into one of her pockets. ‘There’s still time.’

‘Amanda, I hate to say this, but I don’t even have a
notion
of an idea.’

‘You will.’

Perry shook his head. ‘What have I done to give you the impression that I work well under pressure? Because I’m going to tell you right now: I don’t.’

Amanda appeared completely unfazed. ‘Something might come to you.’

‘How can you possibly be so calm?’

‘Would it help if I panicked?’

‘I don’t think anything would help. I’m the wrong man for this job.’

Amanda shrugged. ‘It’s too late to get anyone else.’

Perry wanted to scream. ‘Listen to me: I don’t have an idea now and I won’t have one fifteen minutes from now.’

‘You seem really tense.’ Amanda regarded him thoughtfully, tapping her lips with one finger. ‘I know what might help. An orgasm.’

Perry felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. He looked furtively up and down the empty hallway. ‘You think?’

‘Absolutely,’ Amanda said. ‘Why don’t you masturbate before the meeting?’

Perry couldn’t disguise his disappointment. ‘What?’

‘I know you’re under a lot of pressure – an orgasm might relax you. Actually, I wouldn’t mind one myself.’ Amanda pulled a small box from her pocket, shook a purple pill into the palm of her hand and swallowed it. She shook out another pill and offered it to Perry.

Perry eyed the pill suspiciously. ‘What is it?’

‘MORE.’

‘More? More of what?’

‘Masturbatory Orgasm Response Enhancer. Watch.’ Amanda tapped her hand just below her stomach and immediately began breathing hard. As Perry watched with both embarrassment and avid interest, she threw back her head and moaned ecstatically, then smiled at Perry without a shred of self-consciousness. ‘Whew,’ she said. ‘Sure you don’t want one?’

Perry was suddenly aware of a hairless bulge in his pants, the longer-lasting result of Amanda’s quick climax. ‘If there’s one thing I don’t need a pill to help me with, it’s masturbation.’

‘But this makes it so much quicker, easier and more intense,’ Amanda said. ‘Before MORE, we wasted huge chunks of our lives in the absurd quest to have sexual intercourse with each other.’ She shivered with revulsion. ‘Like animals in heat, dying for a chance to rub membranes and put our mouths all over each other. You know, like... you. Now we’re free.’

Perry couldn’t conceal his disappointment. ‘You don’t have sex?’

‘I knew someone who tried it once in college.’ Amanda cringed. ‘Yuck. It’s amazing that such a violent, ugly act ever became confused with love, just because of its association with reproduction.’

‘So you’ve never—’

‘No!’

‘Then—’ Perry tried to pick out the right words. ‘What do you
do
with each other?’

‘Physical intimacy,’ Amanda said. ‘You know, snuggling, cuddling, spooning. Acts that are truly worthy of the concept of love.’

‘Kissing?’

Amanda wrinkled her nose and shook her head. ‘Kissing originates from apes chewing food for their young and spitting it into their mouths. No thank you.’

‘Never?’

‘No!’ Amanda studied Perry’s face. ‘Are you OK, Mr Bunt? You look pale.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you absolutely sure you don’t need to masturbate?’

‘I’m fine!’

‘Maybe later then.’ Amanda dropped the purple pill into Perry’s jacket pocket. ‘If you get tense during the meeting, go ahead. Everyone will understand.’

Perry still couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea of a world devoid of almost everything he cared about. ‘If you don’t kiss or have sex, how do you show someone you really care about them?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘How do you show love towards each other?’

‘I wasn’t aware that love was something that had to be shown,’ Amanda said. ‘You either feel it or you don’t, right?’

Perry shook his head. ‘You must be fun at parties.’

‘I am,’ Amanda said.

‘I was being sarcastic.’

‘I know, but we’re on the moon now. The Earthle irony doesn’t fly here.’ She smiled at Perry patronisingly. ‘We find that it’s more efficient to say what we mean. So while we’re here, give it a try. At least until we get through this meeting.’

‘I’d be happy to,’ Perry said, as sarcastically as possible.

A small two-seater vehicle appeared out of a slot in the wall and hovered in mid-air. ‘Here’s our ride,’ Amanda said. She sat down in one seat and gestured for Perry to join her. He stepped warily into the floating car, which immediately sped off down the empty hallway. Advanced civilisations sure have long hallways, Perry thought. The car turned a corner and was suddenly surrounded by other men and women of all races, walking and floating in various directions and speaking different languages, all wearing blue tracksuits. The men had the compact bodies, full heads of hair and chiselled features of movie stars, while every woman evinced an ethereal, stunning beauty that made Perry feel awestruck and inadequate at the same time. It was as if Hollywood had cast a futuristic version of the United Nations.

Perry now understood why Amanda didn’t seem to realise how attractive she was. Among these people, she was
typical
.

‘Why the blue suits?’ Perry asked.

‘Why not?’ Amanda said. ‘They’re very comfortable.’

‘No one wants to wear anything different?’

‘Oh, you mean
fashion
?’ Amanda laughed. ‘Another vestige of our animal origins – plumage and whatnot – a
huge
waste of time and money. Very entertaining, though. One of our most popular shows features live feeds from changing rooms all over Earth.’

The car passed through an immense domed atrium lined with hallways and doors. ‘My apartment’s right up there,’ Amanda said, pointing halfway up into the maze. ‘I’d show it to you if we had more time.’

Perry felt a tingle of excitement about the possibility of being with Amanda in her apartment before he realised that without kissing or sex, there would be no point. ‘So you live on the moon?’ he said.

‘Of course,’ Amanda said. ‘You didn’t think I’d live down there, did you?’

Perry sighed. ‘You know, you keep insulting the Earth as if I’m not from there. How am I supposed to take that?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Amanda said. ‘Sometimes I forget. Here we are.’

The car floated to a stop. Amanda jumped out and started trotting briskly down the hallway. Perry stepped out of the car, pausing to watch it disappear into a slot in the wall.

‘Mr Bunt!’ Amanda called. Perry caught up with her and together they walked through a massive sliding door into an office unlike any he had ever seen. For starters, one entire wall was glass and overlooked the surface of the moon and the black emptiness of space. The other walls were filled with small screens showing live feeds from Channel Blue – children vomiting at birthday parties, construction workers hitting their fingers with hammers, motorists slamming their cars into garage walls – but in this office, Earth seemed very far away. Against the backdrop of distant stars was a massive desk flanked by shelves of trophies, among which Perry recognized several golden Orbys. A large man with a shock of bright white hair wearing a blue velour jumpsuit sat in an armchair behind the desk, staring out into space. Amanda and Perry sat down and the man spun around to face them.

‘So... what’ve you got?’ he said with a distinctive low drawl.

Perry had heard this voice before. It was the voice of The King.

The man in the armchair was Elvis Presley.

CHANNEL 11

PITCHING TO THE KING

He was older, an incredibly well-preserved man in his eighties, but clearly Elvis. Perry stared at him with a frozen smile on his face, unable to speak. The man behind the desk, for his part, stared back at Perry expectantly. Amanda jumped in to end the stand-off.

‘As you’ve heard,’ she said, ‘Mr Bunt has come up with a new show that will save Channel Blue.’

‘You’ve taken a lot of risks, young lady,’ the man with the white pompadour drawled. ‘For yourself and for the company.’

‘It was worth it, as you’ll see.’

The man glanced quickly at Perry then back at Amanda. ‘I confess I’m doubtful,’ the man said. ‘No one wants to keep Channel Blue on the air more than I do. I’ve always had special feelings for the Earthles and their amusing hijinks. But there’s no way to sugarcoat space trash – the ratings have been down a wormhole lately.’