The Shift of Numbers (17 page)

No
m
o
r
e
lies

No
m
o
re
being part of a
world
where someone else’s hi
st
or
y
dictates
our
in
to
ler
an
ce and
hatred
of others.

Wa
nt to
start
ag
ai
n
?

Want
to
begin
a
new
chapter
of
history?

Your chapter…

CALL:  01658 5654 95 65

After about a week a
nd only 3 genuine callers - who,
after a few questions
,
appeared to be fleeing from the law - Gordon hatched another
plan and posted another advert:

NOW CASTING

New reality/documentary show based around the idea of a group of people starting their own community from scratch.

The aim of the show is to prove that a micro-community can sustain itself and improve the quality of life for its occupants over a
6
-month period.

Must be able to start in
2
weeks

CALL:
  01658 5654 95 65

After the first 40 callers
,
Gordon decided he was going to have
to
rent an office in the city to interview all his budding reality stars. It amazed him how easy everything seemed to be when you had money. 2 phone calls later, 1 to an estate agent and another to a temping agency
, and he had the use of a fully-
furnished office space and 3 telephonists, all starting tomorrow at 9 o’clock. He spent the rest of the day phoning around builders until he found a team that could start the following day repairing his dilapidated buildings.

The next
afternoon he
was sat behind a cheap, flimsy desk adorned with a lamp, several sheets of paper and a glass of water. The room smelled fresh, like new bed linen had been flung into a blender, then boiled, distilled, bottled and sprayed into the room. He wore a suit complete with a tie. He portrayed the essence of success.

Gordon had just dismissed the last candidate and was utterly convinced he was doing something wrong. He couldn’t, however, put his finger on what it was. Thinking about what he was doing seemed to make parts of his brain itch. He searched his fragmented memory of the previous few weeks for the motivation behind starting a TV show. All that came out of the shadows was the smiling face of Santa Claus and it filled his veins with fear and made his chest feel tight. He remembered how Mary towered above him with her self-
righteousness,
complete in her diagnosis of just how many people she had on her side and how small and worthless she could make him feel. He paused and wrote something on a piece of paper. It was how much he was worth and it didn’t make him react with a good feeling. All he pictured was a small weaselly man in white and black striped clothing carrying a bag of swag, face obscured with a strip of black cloth with the eyes cut out. As his mind focused on the imaginary eyes, they reflected back the smiling face of Bill. Bill seemed to grow and expand with the respect everyone who knew him gave without question or expectation. Gordon sank into his chair.

“Next,” he shouted, without conviction.

A youngish man with a cap entered the room, seating himself without a word and seeming to bounce or vibrate without being asked. “All right, mate? How’s it going?” He made
‘how’s’
sounds like
‘aaaahs’
.

“Erm, okay,” replied Gordon.

“Good, good. I’m Mark. I hear you’ve got a TV show that needs some contestants?” He pulsated, scratching his cheek.

“Well, yeah.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What d’ya wanna know?” He bounced.

“Erm, just tell us a bit about yourself?”

“Course I will, mate. All you had to do was ask.” Mark burst into a high-pitched barking that Gordon assumed was either a laugh or a result of spending his formative years living with wolves. “I’m a decorator, ain’t I? Would love to be on the telly, though. Been a dream of mine since I was, well, young. Love all them reality shows. Quality, mate.”

“Okay,” Gordon frowned. “What do you decorate?”

Mark leaned forward in his seat, eyes wide and leaving a long pause before he replied. “What d’ya reckon? It ain’t cakes, is it?”

“Probably not…” replied Gordon, as Mark sat back into his chair.

“You got any questions?”

“I can’t think of any,” Gordon replied, honestly.

“I ain’t got it, have I?”

“What?”

“A place on the show.” Mark stared intently into Gordon’s eyes as he failed to elicit a response. “You’ve already judged me, ain’t ya?” He stood up and flicked his fingers in front of Gordon’s face. “Fair play. I didn’t grow up with your privilege but you shouldn’t be disrespecting.” Pulling his cap down, Mark stalked out of the room muttering words that his mother might have disagreed with and his grandma might well have been shocked by.

Gordon sank further into his chair, even
more unsure
of what he was doing. “Next,” he shouted without confidence. A small middle-aged man entered with a smile. They shook hands and he introduced himself as Andrew. He seemed to be blinking rapidly behind powerful, round spectacles. Gordon shuffled the blank pieces of paper around his desk trying to think of a question. “Could you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Andrew began speaking in a bubbly, lilting voice.

As Gordon focused on the huge blinking eyes, something began tugging at the edges of his consciousness, a blackness creeping into his peripheral vision, like small tendrils of darkness leaking into the veins of his left eye. “Oh, dear,” Gordon said, as a familiar aroma of damp fish wafted over his shoulder.

“Sorry?” Andrew said, stopping mid-sentence and looking on curiously.

“Er, nothing. Carry on. Sorry,” Gordon said, apologetically.

“Okay. Last year, I worked in the loans department until I got promoted. I was really happy to…”

“Aft’noon, boy. You’re struggling again, ain’t ya?” came a voice from behind him.

Gordon didn’t want to look around. “No, just leave me alone,” he replied defiantly, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer.

“What? I don’t understand.” Andrew’s eyebrows drew a quizzical expression on his face.

“Not you. Sorry.”

“Not me?”

“I think we should do this another time.”

“That’s okay,” Andrew said, standing up. “I think I’ll give it a miss.” As he edged towards the door, a deep
belly-laugh
erupted behind Gordon. The door slammed shut and the vagrant-looking Santa made his way round the desk and sat down, his portly frame struggling to fit in-between the arms of the small chair. He shuffled uncomfortably until he was fully wedged in.

“Don’t drink that. It’s just fake,” he said, loudly, looking intently at the bottle on the desk.

“Fake what?”

“Confidence, my boy, confidence. I can give you the real deal.” He didn’t seem scary and spoke softly, like a kind old relative handing out advice.

“How?” asked
Gordon.

“I can tell you what you really want, and why you’re doing all this.”

*

She
sat in the corridor on one of the plastic chairs. They reminded her of the uncomfortable ones from when she was at school. They stretched all the way down the
brightly-lit
space. Earlier in the day, they had all been filled with hopefuls, some rehearsing their opening lines in a bid for a shot at the silver screen. As each aspirant was called through the door at the end of the hall, the remaining people had to shuffle down 1 chair. Now only 2 were left. She was checking her make-up in a tiny mirror when the door slammed. A man walked swiftly out and down the corridor to the reception area shaking his head and muttering. As she waited, nervously adjusting her skirt, she could just about make out a voice inside. She strained to hear the contents of the 1-sided conversation but it eluded her, so she readjusted her skirt and took out the tiny mirror.

After some time, the voice grew silent and the phone in the reception let out a bright chirp. A lady strode down the corridor and into the office, re-emerging seconds later with a piece of paper. Back at her desk she began typing furiously before retrieving several sheets of paper from a noisy printer. She marched back down the corridor and handed them both a piece of paper.

Please read before attending interview

This is not a traditional ‘reality show’ and you will be expected to work, either on the community or in your job. You will be part of
a community formed by people who are open to the idea that they can make a fulfilling life for themselves contributing in a diverse group and are open to exploring a different way of life. You will not be living in isolation and there is no spiritual, religious or political aspect to the show.

Members of this ‘country within a country’ will have to value
collective
needs above the personal. Most of these societies in the past have been based on a shared interest, usually religion. The only goal here is to improve quality of life for
yourselves
and provide an insight for the viewer into less ‘traditional’ ways of living.

THE RULES

1.
    
All money earned by an individual is placed into a central account and spent as members of the community see fit.

2.
    
You must be willing to work for the benefit of all in the community in a manner decided upon by the majority.

3.
    
All other rules will be decided upon by majority vote.

She had read and
re-read
the text several times before a shout of ‘next’ forced her onto her feet and into the office. As she walked in, a young man in an expensive-looking suit greeted her, standing up and shaking her confidently by the hand.

“Good afternoon. I’m Gordon,” he smiled.

“Sophia. Pleased to meet you,” she smiled back.

“Please take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“Right then. I best tell you what this is all about then. The basic idea is that you will be part of a group of people working together in a microcosm of society whose only goal is to try and make a better life for
themselves
. It’s difficult - well some find it difficult - living in a society that they can’t make an impact upon. Imagine a group of people enclosed in a bubble, a country within a country, sharing everything and working towards a common goal, carving out a shared existence that all contained within can make better… I’ve said that a few times today,” Gordon lied, flawlessly.

“I can tell,” she exhaled with a laugh, “but I’m still not really sure what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not the first 1 to say that,” Gordon smiled. “Basically, you will be living in a group of 30 people, some - around 8 - will keep their full-time jobs. A similar number will continue to work part-time, and the rest will comprise people working full-time on the community and for the children.” He paused momentarily and looked up and to the left. “The selling point of the show, if you will, is that the full-time workers all enjoy the jobs they do on the outside, while those who will be working on the community do not, or have never really found an outlet for the kind of skills they feel they possess. The part-timers will, hopefully, fill up the middle ground, possessing an idea of both worlds and hopefully amalgamating the group into a cohesive working unit. The interplay created by the friction of these worlds is what this show is all about. Misconception, coupled with money, tends to split people into defined groups that become more separate over time. The longer a group socialises only within its own comfortable walls, the more its ideals solidify, becoming a specialised type of intolerance. We want to explore that and give the viewers a glimpse into how you will resolve these issues.”