"Acting classes?"
"Surgery--nose, chin, hips, chest. So much of her has been added, subtracted or rearranged, I'm not sure how much of the original is still there." He laughed. "If you saw her wardrobe, you'd think she was already a star."
Daphne grinned. "And I'll bet you never said anything about making movies, right? As if anything else ever mattered to you."
"Well, okay. I might have mentioned it in passing." He smiled, then sighed. "But she lost interest when all Spinaldi let me make was commercials. Now, he doesn't even let me do those! Who wants to manage a cable company?"
"Spinaldi's a jerk."
"He's also my only source of income, and he says if we don't find and fix the problem with our transmissions, he'll fire me."
Daphne shook her head. "I'll bet he's still angry about that commercial we did for Gruber and Slantz."
"The 'storm trooper' spot--my favorite!" Scott waved his hands as he spoke, painting pictures in the air. "We open with a tight shot, black and white, of steel-toed jackboots. No music, no voices, just the relentless sound of footsteps as a squad of Gestapo-like cops tromp down a hallway to arrest the hero as he thumbs through a phone book to find an attorney. We should've gotten an award for it!"
"Too bad Spinaldi's brother is the Police Chief."
"You could have told me."
Daphne pointed to herself. "Me? You directed it!"
"But you were the production assistant."
She counted on her fingers as she spoke. "Also set technician, special effects editor, stunt coordinator--"
"We didn't have any stunts. Besides, I..." His voice trailed off as he stared at the monitors in the control room. "Daf? I thought line 6 was the Cooking Channel."
"It is." She turned to look at the screen on which a parade of short, ugly miners filed into a dark tunnel. "Good grief! What are those things, hobbits?"
"Oh Lord, not again." Scott scanned the other monitors, then checked his watch. All five of the big broadcast networks should have begun their evening newscasts, but ABC seemed to be running a feature on bad weather flying for fairies. A pair of elves discussed the relative benefits of nectar versus honey on CBS, and in place of NBC's usual anchor team, a platoon of wood sprites frolicked in the nude. He didn’t have time to figure out what the other two featured.
Scott felt the birth of a stomach ulcer. "Cut!" he yelled. "Cut everything to 'Standby.' Now!"
Daphne began to hit switches. Scott searched the screens for new program failures. There didn't seem to be any. He eased back against Daphne's desk and waited for his pulse to return to normal.
"Good evening," said a voice from behind him.
Scott whirled around to face another monitor. A powder blue lizard wearing a pointed sorcerer's cap stared at him from the screen. "Sorry if I startled you," it said.
Scott shook his head and turned back toward Daphne. "What line is that?"
She squinted at the huge monitor which had been pushed out of the way. "I didn't even think that antique was hooked up. It's been so long since--"
"You've no call to be rude," the lizard said.
Scott stared at the screen. The creature had to be looking directly into the camera. Scott felt as if it could really see him. "Daf?"
"That’s not possible,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “It's not hooked to anything."
A giant hand seemed to push Scott back down on Daphne's desk. He continued to stare at the big screen. "I... How--"
"Relax," the lizard said. It blinked, slowly, and then waved its tongue at him. the gesture proved very disturbing. Then its lips curled upwards.
Scott felt his jaw drop. The damn thing was smiling at him. He swallowed, but with some difficulty. "Can you, uhm, see me?"
The lizard nodded.
"Daphne? I'll take some of that Dr. Pepper now," Scott said. She handed him the can.
"And a good evening to you, too," the lizard said as Daphne stepped next to Scott. "What an alluring outfit."
Daphne looked down at her T-shirt and jeans, then up at the screen. "Are you talking to me?"
"Well, of course."
"But, how?"
"The magic of television."
She walked back to the monitor and poked around behind it, then looked at Scott and grinned. "I'm impressed," she said. "This is the slickest thing I've ever seen! You really had me going. It looks so real! I had no idea you did CGI. The animation is pure genius."
Scott shook his head. "Daf, I--"
The lizard cleared its throat. "Will you ask the young lady to return to the front? I can't see her back there."
"This has got to be the most elaborate--"
"Daphne!" Scott growled, "this is not a practical joke. It's some weird kind of interactive TV or--"
"Troll squeeze!" The lizard tilted its cap slightly forward and squinted. "It's magic, plain and simple." He shuddered. "Dear Bofeesus, how I hate working with mundanes!"
Scott and Daphne exchanged looks while the lizard adjusted its robe, the color of which continuously cycled through a spectrum of metallic shades.
"I have an offer to make," the lizard said. "If you're interested in having your broadcasts returned to normal. Well, your normal."
Scott perked up. "You're the one screwing things up?"
The lizard rested its chin on a palm and drummed its cheek with sharp-clawed toes. "Oh, sure. Blame us. It began with your satellite transmissions, which normally wouldn't have been a problem, except for the moonspots. Since then--"
Daphne howled. "Moonspots? Right!"
"Never mind," the lizard said, "I've obviously come to the wrong place." He turned and began to walk off-screen.
"No! Please! Come back," Scott said. "I-- No. We apologize."
"You'll hear me out?"
"Absolutely." Scott glared at Daphne who put both hands over her mouth.
After another round of robe adjustments, the lizard continued. "Ever since the moonspot problem, certain of your transmissions are showing up on my network."
Daphne's eyebrows shot up.
"You have a network?" Scott asked.
"Certainly. Quality stuff, too. A half-dozen channels, all Public Access."
Daphne groaned.
"What's her problem?" asked the lizard.
Scott shrugged. "She's a snob."
"Anyway, when your telecasts invaded my network, I started getting complaints. The gnomes threatened to strike, the wood sprites all came down with green flu, and Garnefel, the Elven King, told me if he ever saw that damned purple dinosaur again he'd have my head!"
"I had no idea our signal was causing any interference," Scott said.
"I figured as much, that's when I decided to get your attention. It seemed only fair that if you could force your viewing tastes on us, I should be able to do the same to you."
"But it wasn't us. At least, not on purpose. The government assigns the frequencies."
The lizard tapped its claw tips together. "The frequency I'm interested in is so obscure, I thought your kind would never use it, but I forgot how you always overdo things. Why broadcast on a dozen channels when you can use thousands?"
"That may be, but it's not something I control," Scott said. "So, what do you want me to do?"
"Us," Daphne said. "What do you want us to do?"
"Just give me back my frequency," the lizard said.
"But I--"
"No buts. I don't care who you have to see, or what you have to do, but if I don't get exclusive use of that frequency, you won't be able to tune into anything but the troll's home movies and coverage of the pixie parade!"
"Wait! I need more--"
"I'll be back in an hour." A puff of smoke drifted up from the monitor, and the image of the powder blue lizard disappeared.
~*~
Scott held a chair for his boss, Hiram Spinaldi. The older man lowered his bulk into it with a prolonged huff, like air being forced from a beach ball. Scott motioned for Daphne to turn on the big monitor at the back
of the room. "I know this may be a little hard to believe," he said, "but it explains everything. We just aren't sure how to deal with it. I'd like your input."
Spinaldi said nothing, but dug his chins into his chest and crossed his arms. The corners of his mouth had turned down so far they almost touched his wrists. "This had better be good, Pettigrew. There's been an increase in the number of inquiries about your job lately."
Scott swallowed and checked his watch for the hundredth time. Daphne stepped away from the set, and they all waited.
The screen remained dark.
"Well?"
"Give him another minute or so," Scott said.
"Who?"
"The, uhm.. The one responsible for our signals being so confused."
Spinaldi pursed his lips as he stared over the tops of his glasses first at Scott, then at Daphne. He began to check his watch nearly as often as Scott.
With the blue lizard twenty minutes overdue, and Scott out of excuses, Spinaldi heaved himself to his feet and walked to the door. He turned to face his subordinates. "You're fired, Pettigrew. I have no more time to waste on incompetents."
"Mr. Spinaldi, wait!" Daphne said.
The old man squinted at her. "Why?"
"It's not his fault! If you'd just--"
"You want to join him? Fine. You're both fired. You have thirty minutes to clear your personal belongings out of the building. And if I ever see another unscheduled fairy on one of my channels, I'll have you arrested!" He slammed the door behind him.
"He's as bad as Garnefel," said the lizard from the back of the room.
Scott wanted to murder something. Something very specific. "Where've you been?"
The lizard blinked. "Right here, of course."
"No way!" Daphne said. "We've been watching the screen the whole time."
"You didn't expect me to transmit with that nasty thing in the room, did you?" The lizard shivered.
"Spinaldi?"
"Way too much negative energy."
"I'll give you negative energy!" Scott yelled, his fists shaking.
Daphne put her hand on his arm. "Punching TV screens is a bad idea. It's hell on the tube."
The lizard nodded. "Besides, what makes you think he'd listen to me?"
"Couldn't you spritz him with a little magic?" Daphne asked. "Something to make him human? I'd really like to get my job back." She put the Dr. Pepper can to her lips and discovered it was empty.
"Thirsty?" The lizard held up a long-stemmed glass, the contents of which changed colors as rapidly as his robe. He traced a symbol in the air over his head and blew it toward them. Seconds later the goblet appeared on a desk between the two stunned humans.
"That's amazing!" Scott said.
The lizard curled its talons and blew on them.
Daphne looked puzzled. "If you can do stuff like that, why can't you solve your own problem?"
The lizard sighed. "My range is limited. Do you think I'd be talking to you if I could change things on my own?"
Scott looked at the goblet, then at the lizard. "Your magic is limited? How much?"
"I've got enough to pump my programs to any of your channels, and out to all your subscribers."
"Then why can't you contact the FCC as well?"
The lizard removed its pointed cap and scratched its head. "That's a problem. This is a visual medium, right? But there aren't any TV sets where the FCC meets. With a monitor handy, I can work wonders, provided it's hooked to your system. So far, you two are the only humans I've talked to."
Daphne shook her head. "Just us?"
The lizard donned its cap. "Yep."
"So what do we do now?" Scott asked.
"Like I said before, get me my own frequency."
"That's impossible!"
"So be it. Be sure and tune in for the trolls company picnic tomorrow. It's an all-day affair."
Before Scott could respond, the lizard winked out. He turned to Daphne instead. "Would you like a drink? I could sure use one."
~*~
Scott and Daphne reached Feeney's Fireside Lounge about a half hour before Scott's wife and her handsome young attorney made their appearance. In the couple's wake trailed a dozen people Scott didn't know. Most appeared to have been recruited from a body building class.
He watched his soon-to-be-ex use one of his credit cards to pay for the first round of drinks. The attorney raised his glass in a toast, but Scott couldn't hear his words. When his credit card was presented for a second round, Scott got to his feet.
"Another bad idea," Daphne said. “Like punching a TV screen.”
"You're probably right. If I live through this, promise to drag me someplace where I can heal, okay?"
Daphne shrugged and Scott wandered over to the congenial group surrounding his wife. "Why, Bertha," he crowed, swaying a bit from two hastily consumed manhattans. He latched onto the back of her chair for balance. "Fancy meeting you here!"
"It's Berta," she said pointedly. "Why don't you crawl back under your rock?" She nodded at one of her muscular companions. "Or do you need help?"
"No need for alarm, Bertie, I just thought I'd say hi." He bobbed toward her chest, then away. "These new glasses are hell," he said. "I thought for a minute there your boobs were the same size. How silly of me! Did you ever find the guy who did the work?"
Berta's attorney got to his feet but had to circle the table and maneuver through a crowd before he reached Scott who was gesturing with both hands. "You can get damn near anything at WalMart these days! Nobody pays retail for boo--"
~*~
When the lights slowly came back on, Daphne's fuzzy but concerned face peered at him from a few inches away.
"Am I dead?" Scott asked.
"Not yet." Daphne draped a cold washcloth on his forehead.
Scott pushed the wet rag from his eyes and squinted at the unfamiliar room. "Where--"
"My place," Daphne said. "You can sleep on the couch if you want."
Scott's jaw felt as if someone had unhinged it. "How badly did I hurt him?"
It took awhile, but Daphne finally stopped laughing. "He was on the boxing team at some Ivy League school. You were gone before the end of the first inning."
"Round."
"Whatever." She touched his face. "How long do you think it'll stay swollen like that?"
Scott winced and struggled to his feet. "It's okay to be ugly when you're dead. And the way I feel, I must be close."
"You aren't ugly. You're--"
"Rugged-looking?"
"--wounded." She handed him a key. "Your wife asked me to give you this. She had your stuff put in storage. She said she wanted to send it to the moon, but couldn't afford the shipping, and figured you'd press charges if she had it burned.
Scott wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?" Then he looked down at his clothes. "Oh, my God! It's me!"
Daphne put her hand in front of her face and tried to hide her smile. It didn't work. "That's my fault, I'm afraid. It happened when I was hauling you here from the car."
"You carried me here?"
"Not exactly. I draped you over the garbage can--it's the only thing I could find with wheels."
He looked again at his clothes. "Are you sure you didn't put me in it?"
She laughed. "I'm positive. But you did fall off a couple times."
Scott smiled. "I can remember a time when I would've been upset by that. Now I'm just glad you're so resourceful."
Daphne blushed. "Why don't we get your stuff on the way back to the office?"
"Did I miss something else while I was out? Last I heard we'd been fired."
"While you were, uhm, resting, I had some time to think. We've got a lot in common, y'know?"
"Besides unemployment?"
"Sure. No family. No money. No prospects."
Scott groaned. "You make it sound so hopeful."
She punched him on the shoulder. "Anyway, I've got an idea, but we'll need to talk to the lizard."
Scott
shrugged. "Why not? What've we got to lose?"
"My thoughts exactly," Daphne said. "Let's go. I'll explain in the car."
~*~
Scott and Daphne slipped past the guard while the latter yelled at the Orioles for completing a double play. They sneaked down the hallway to the control room and entered the area pretending to be deep in conversation.
Ralph Murchison, the night shift operator, looked up at them. "Yo, Daffy!" He waved his coffee and a Twinkie at her. "I thought you got canned. What're you doin' here?"
"Fired? Me?" She looked at Scott as if Ralph were an escaped mental patient. "You just want my shift, right? Wishful thinking."
Ralph looked dubious, but didn't argue.
"I need your help," Scott said. "We're having a problem reading the schematics for some of the feeds. Daphne said you were the best at figuring the damn things out."
Smiling despite the Twinkie cream on his chin, Ralph pushed away from his desk and waddled closer. "Sure, let's go." He followed Scott out of the room.
Two minutes later, Scott returned alone.
"You didn't hurt him, did you?" Daphne asked.
"Nah. Just locked him in the janitor's closet. I hope they don't start cleaning up too early tonight."
Daphne glanced at the digital wall clock. "Me, too. C'mon."
They hurried to the back of the room and stared--first at the space where the big monitor used to be, then at each other. "Forget it," Daphne said. "It's not like he would've been there waiting for us."
"I'd kind of hoped--"
"Hope is nice, but what we need is a plan. So, how ‘bout we figure out which channels are getting through to his world. Then maybe we can send him some kind of signal."
Scott shook his head. "Maybe we ought to just leave now and head for the border. We could be miles away before anyone even knows we're gone."
"You don't have to stay," Daphne said. "I'll do what I can by myself."
"I'm not that big a creep!"
Daphne grinned. "I knew that."
"So, now what?"
"We start with the most offensive channel and work backwards. I can type out a message that'll appear on every screen we broadcast. If he's watching, he'll see it."
"The phones'll go nuts! Spinaldi'll be here in a heartbeat."
"He’s most likely in bed already," Daphne said.
"We should be so lucky. What message were you going to use?"