ceremonies had been hosted by the same three pundits.
Paul and Steve were the youngest. Paul was dark-haired, athletic, with an air
of intellectualism about him. Steve, on the other hand, was a gentle giant,
bigger even than Linus, with a broad chiseled chest, but wearing a finely
tailored suit that made him look nicely kempt.
The third
commentator was Alice. She was vacuous and plain-looking. She wore a tan skirt
and coat over an off-white blouse, and she was showing every one of her
fifty-five years.
“Oh, that woman.
She is horrible. They shouldn’t ever put her in front of a camera, don’t you
think?” Beatrice said. “They should let me produce the show. I’d get someone
with looks in there, attract more men. She’s stupid, too. Producers don’t know
anything these days. Don’t you think I could do a better job? You know I could!
I’d clean house. I’d fire the whole production staff, starting with her. Keep
Paul and Steve, those two are awesome!”
The anchors
reviewed the night’s line-up. Alice would invariably say a nice thing or two
about each of the condemned before being trounced by her co-hosts. She would
point out how maybe the crimes weren’t as bad as the media made them out to be,
or that maybe the courts or police hadn’t treated them fairly. Every time—by a
revolving mixture of a cold recitation of the facts, persuasion, and ridicule—she
would come around.
“And then
there’s the main event, Malcolm Evans!” said Steve.
“Oh,” said
Alice, excitedly. “He’s the Acquisitions one?”
“That’s right,
Alice!” said Paul. “The worst of the bunch!”
“Well, you
know,” she said flippantly, “I know he’s a bad guy and all. But do you really
think he’s guilty of ALL of the charges?”
“Here we go…”
moaned Steve.
“I’m just
saying, espionage? I know he tried to get out of his contract. But once they
had him on that, it looks a lot like it was Retention that blackmailed him into
committing more crimes. They’re the ones who asked him to turn on his own
colleagues.”
“A crime is a
crime,” answered Paul.
“But Retention
forced him to! He was just trying to save him—”
“Exactly!” said
Steve. “He put his own needs ahead of the corporation. Nobody made him do
anything. He could have just accepted responsibility for his crimes. But no, he
tried to bribe Retention, save his own skin by throwing colleagues under the
bus. Frankly, he’s getting off easy.”
“I suppose that’s
a good point.” said Alice, as Bea snarled at her. “But if he wanted to leave
the firm, shouldn’t he have been free to go?”
“Of course Evans
was free to go! He just needed to buy out his contract. And what’s wrong with
that? Ackerman invested a lot of money into him, it’s only fair. And he was
paid for his loyalty. He cashed those checks, and look what he did!”
Beatrice raveled
her hands into her shirt and flexed in anger. “Yeah!” she cried. “My God, the
communist! How do they let people like this on the show? She’s been doing this
for like a decade now! Honestly, does nobody at that network think? What I
could do with the entire department if they let me manage it. They simply don’t
hire people with talent over there—they’d be intimidated by me, that’s the
problem!”
The first round
of hangings began. The commentators bantered back and forth about the man’s
crimes. Alice, ever the voice of compassion, was universally rebuffed and
overpowered by the weight of a single principle: the only chink in Ackerman’s
armor was disloyalty; Ackerman failed its colleagues only if its colleagues
failed Ackerman.
The first few
people were hanged. Beatrice grinned from ear to ear as each one dropped. When
a neck broke, she let out a disappointed sigh. When it didn’t, she watched them
suffocate for minutes, squirming and clawing the noose for air.
“What made you
think you could get away with it? It’s your own damn fault!” she shouted at
Paul and Steve were the youngest. Paul was dark-haired, athletic, with an air
of intellectualism about him. Steve, on the other hand, was a gentle giant,
bigger even than Linus, with a broad chiseled chest, but wearing a finely
tailored suit that made him look nicely kempt.
The third
commentator was Alice. She was vacuous and plain-looking. She wore a tan skirt
and coat over an off-white blouse, and she was showing every one of her
fifty-five years.
“Oh, that woman.
She is horrible. They shouldn’t ever put her in front of a camera, don’t you
think?” Beatrice said. “They should let me produce the show. I’d get someone
with looks in there, attract more men. She’s stupid, too. Producers don’t know
anything these days. Don’t you think I could do a better job? You know I could!
I’d clean house. I’d fire the whole production staff, starting with her. Keep
Paul and Steve, those two are awesome!”
The anchors
reviewed the night’s line-up. Alice would invariably say a nice thing or two
about each of the condemned before being trounced by her co-hosts. She would
point out how maybe the crimes weren’t as bad as the media made them out to be,
or that maybe the courts or police hadn’t treated them fairly. Every time—by a
revolving mixture of a cold recitation of the facts, persuasion, and ridicule—she
would come around.
“And then
there’s the main event, Malcolm Evans!” said Steve.
“Oh,” said
Alice, excitedly. “He’s the Acquisitions one?”
“That’s right,
Alice!” said Paul. “The worst of the bunch!”
“Well, you
know,” she said flippantly, “I know he’s a bad guy and all. But do you really
think he’s guilty of ALL of the charges?”
“Here we go…”
moaned Steve.
“I’m just
saying, espionage? I know he tried to get out of his contract. But once they
had him on that, it looks a lot like it was Retention that blackmailed him into
committing more crimes. They’re the ones who asked him to turn on his own
colleagues.”
“A crime is a
crime,” answered Paul.
“But Retention
forced him to! He was just trying to save him—”
“Exactly!” said
Steve. “He put his own needs ahead of the corporation. Nobody made him do
anything. He could have just accepted responsibility for his crimes. But no, he
tried to bribe Retention, save his own skin by throwing colleagues under the
bus. Frankly, he’s getting off easy.”
“I suppose that’s
a good point.” said Alice, as Bea snarled at her. “But if he wanted to leave
the firm, shouldn’t he have been free to go?”
“Of course Evans
was free to go! He just needed to buy out his contract. And what’s wrong with
that? Ackerman invested a lot of money into him, it’s only fair. And he was
paid for his loyalty. He cashed those checks, and look what he did!”
Beatrice raveled
her hands into her shirt and flexed in anger. “Yeah!” she cried. “My God, the
communist! How do they let people like this on the show? She’s been doing this
for like a decade now! Honestly, does nobody at that network think? What I
could do with the entire department if they let me manage it. They simply don’t
hire people with talent over there—they’d be intimidated by me, that’s the
problem!”
The first round
of hangings began. The commentators bantered back and forth about the man’s
crimes. Alice, ever the voice of compassion, was universally rebuffed and
overpowered by the weight of a single principle: the only chink in Ackerman’s
armor was disloyalty; Ackerman failed its colleagues only if its colleagues
failed Ackerman.
The first few
people were hanged. Beatrice grinned from ear to ear as each one dropped. When
a neck broke, she let out a disappointed sigh. When it didn’t, she watched them
suffocate for minutes, squirming and clawing the noose for air.
“What made you
think you could get away with it? It’s your own damn fault!” she shouted at
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