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Updated: May 8, 2025
Boredom was so enervating that it wouldn't have been preposterous to think of one's energy being snatched and diverted elsewhere. Money, ownership, tax loopholes, investments, televised games, tree planting, and this, watching the Tonight Show, were the same recurrent life themes of this man. She sat there as listlessly as a catatonic.
I was born in Greater New York twenty-five years ago." I gazed at this televised image of George Prince. He stood somber in the black detention uniform, silhouetted sharply against the regulation backdrop of vivid scarlet. A dark, almost femininely handsome fellow, well below medium height the rod checking him showed five foot four inches. Slim and slight.
Still, the sketchbook was compact as an album, and a bit of paper and charcoal were affordable. Closing the sketchbook on a mental catharsis, she did pushups and situps beside her director's chair and then aerobics to the televised instructors who glowed in a little box in front of her. It all helped to extract her from malaise.
If she had not loved him before she loved him desperately then; for to be rejected by an ogre made her feel uglier than the one rejecting her. She pontificated that love was a shared experience that could not be dropped one rainy Sunday when it was apparent from the first ten minutes of the televised soccer game who would be the winners, clearing the way for daily habitual liaisons thereafter.
There was a reason for this, however. It seems that, at the very millisecond of her being brought to life, someone who believed in her had thought about her. And that someone had had a different impression of her. It was a silly impression created not so much by the book as by a movie musical that was televised annually. So that was the way the thinker imagined her to look.
Somewhere up there, his brother was waiting after having run the gamut of televised interviews, dinner at one of the best restaurants, and a party afterward. A celebrity. "The greatest detective in the Solar System," they'd called him. Fine stuff, that. Stanton wondered what the asteroids were like. Maybe that would be the place to go after this job was done.
Then he took the folded sheets and went on to the restaurant. He rarely read a news-sheet. Mostly, his information about the world that existed outside the walls of the Institute came from the televised newscasts.
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