The Year of the Sex Olympics and other TV Plays (24 page)

NAT
(taking it in)
: I said: What are they for? And that’s it—

PRIEST
: That’s it. To give humanity a chance to . . . survive a million years. Just to draw level with the least successful dinosaurs!

NAT
(after a moment)
: Dinosaurs?

PRIEST
(too tired to explain)
: Oh . . . some old-days things.
(They look down at the chessmen, who have come to a halt. Priest pushes another ploy in)
Get on.
(As the chessmen start off again)
It’s a trust, Nat. So . . . no Kin Hodders. No Kin Hodders?

Nat shakes his head. Priest claps his arm about Nat’s shoulders and they go out together. The Recreation Area is left deserted.

After a moment a hand appears over the edge of the bar, then a face. It is Kin Hodder. He looks pale and frightened. He snatches some of the globular meringue-like confections from a half-empty dish and gobbles them . . .

INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD

It is a time between shows. Opie and Misch are consulting in a corner of the pod. Priest comes in and joins Nat where he is staring gloomily at the Audience Sampler.

PRIEST
: When you last see ’em laugh?

NAT
: Laugh?

PRIEST
: Not in a long time?

NAT
: Not much.

PRIEST
(grimly)
: It’s what they got to do!
(Confidentially)
Computer findings, just in.
(He suddenly seizes Nat’s hand and claps it against his own stomach. He gives a loud, deep-based guffaw. Uttered quite without humour, it is a little alarming)
Feel that shake? Real calisthenic. It’s comfy, it’s cosy, good for lungs and belly. But right on top of all, laughing is
safe! (He turns to Opie and Misch, who are looking mildly startled)
Get it, Misch? Pal Opie? We got to make ’em laugh!

OPIE
: Computer findings?

PRIEST
:
My
findings.
(Smiling at his little joke)
Computer of course. But I go along with it. To agree with the computer, that gladdens me.

OPIE
: Make ’em laugh . . .

PRIEST
: Perfect minimal stimulant. But they don’t do it. Even the Hungry-Angry Show, not even at that. Now this we got to fix!

OPIE
: If it what they need . . .

PRIEST
: What they need, what they got to get! In all shows. Sportsex too. Well, pals?

MISCH
(aghast)
: I got to be
funny?

OPIE
(quickly)
: We can fix it, Co-ordinator!

PRIEST
: Good talk. Good talk, pal Opie! Nat?

Nat turns from his glum regard of the Audience Sampler.

NAT
: It’s a dare.

PRIEST
: Right . . . that’s right! A real jumbo dare!

INSIDE FOODSHOW STUDIO

The foodshow studio is a mess. The air is thick with flying joke food. A long refectory table is loaded with dishes of custard . . . giant pies . . . mushy fruits. Actors in an extraordinary medley of period costumes, from Roman togas to doublet-and-hose, are hurling the stuff at each other with great speed and dexterity. As they duck and dodge and smother each other to grotesque Spike-Jones-type music, the result is quite funny.

Studio attendants stand by with more custard in buckets and tubs. Priest and Deanie are watching, both dressed in transparent protective clothing.

PRIEST
(chuckling)
: History is crazy!

DEANIE
: History?

PRIEST
: Old-days.
(Happily)
This just got to do it!
(But when he turns to the Audience Sampler, his face falls. There is no laughter there. He signals desperately to Deanie)
Sure they getting it? The show
is
live now?

DEANIE
: Yes—

PRIEST
: Step it up! Let’s go!

She waves the studio attendants into action. Buckets of custard are flung at the actors to build up the effect. Even Priest himself snatches up some pies and lets fly. As he turns anxiously to the screen again, a gobbet of stray custard spatters over him. The Sample Audience is still not laughing.

PRIEST
(hissing at them)
: Come on, laugh! See it hit him in the eye then? Not funny?

The music speeds up. The actors move even faster, in a medley of frantic sight gags.

PRIEST
(to the Sampler screen, almost pleading)
: Whatta matter with you? Come on, come on! Let go, you pigs! It’s what you need! It’s what you want . . . !

But the Sample Audience is quite unmoved.

A few minutes later, the show is over and the set looks like the aftermath of a custard blizzard. Panting actors are moving away, glistening and dripping. Priest and Deanie are peeling off their protective clothing.

PRIEST
(angrily)
: Hah!

As he passes the Sampler monitor he switches it off, glowering. The attendants move in to mop up. Deanie presses a combination of micro-switches on her wrist contact.

DEANIE
: Nat? Not able to try before. No, not a laugh. But listen. It’s Kin. Kin Hodder.
(Guardedly)
He got here somewise . . . No, he gone now but what he said . . . Nat, he could try some crazy . . . Nat, if you see him, stop him . . .

THE STUDIO CATWALK

A disused caption board with the huge word “Sportsex” painted across a photomontage of lithe bodies hangs flown to the studio roof. A catwalk runs past it. On this Kin Hodder appears, his drawings rolled beneath his arm. He peers cautiously round the caption board, down through the steel ropes and lighting cables.

NAT’S VOICE
(booming, magnified)
: Stand by, studio . . .

INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD

In the pod, Nat repeats the instruction to the control desk.

NAT
: Stand by.

OPIE
: Was that Deanie?
(Nat nods)
Kid okay?
(Nat nods again)
Deanie calls you a lot.
(Nat looks at him)
I said Deanie . . . calls you a lot. Deanie.

Nat is wondering what all this repetition of Deanie’s name is for. Then he sees the reason. Misch has entered, and Opie has noticed her first.

MISCH
(crossly)
: Deanie? That old bubby still! Nat, you sick and shudder me!

She makes for her booth. Opie grins.

NAT
: Funny.

OPIE
(innocently)
: What’s funny?

NAT
: Why people laugh. You laugh like then, when you drop somebody in it.
(Nods at Misch)
She laugh . . . at people cause they fat or old or . . . not like her.

MISCH
(indignantly)
: I laugh cause they funny!

PRIEST
(entering)
: What’s about funny?

NAT
: Why people laugh. They say: “It not happened to me!” So they glad, so they laugh.

PRIEST
: Right. Fruit-skin.

NAT
: Fruit—

PRIEST
: You see somebody fall on a fruit-skin, you laugh. It didn’t happen to you. That’s the idea.
(He glowers at the Audience Sampler)
But out there, it seems they not got the idea yet! Hear about Foodshow?

NAT
: Yes.

PRIEST
(shivers)
: I never see so much slop go. And all shot real king . . . smack in the eye, smack in the eye, smack in the eye! Nearly made
me
laugh. But
them!
(He shoots the Sample a look of loathing, then:)
Misch, bubby. Make ’em laugh!

She dimples. The plastic dome descends over her head.

THE CATWALK

Kin Hodder is testing a steel rope, that its fixing is secure.

NAT’S VOICE
: Five seconds, studio.

Kin jams the roll of drawings into his belt. The studio below suddenly echoes with the brassy Sportsex music. He puts one leg gingerly over the security rail, then the other, and starts climbing down the rope.

INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD

Opie is turning down the opening music to allow Misch to begin. Nat turns to Priest.

NAT
(innocently)
: Any word of Kin Hodder?

PRIEST
: No.

Misch’s face fills the main screen. She beams brightly.

MISCH
: Tonight’s the night, everybody! So was last night. So’s tomorrow night. Never let up, do we?

Opie forces a dry giggle.

PRIEST
: Trying hard.

MISCH
: Anywise—we got a real crazy super-king show here, and we give it to you! All we want is your eyes and your ears—how about that for a swap?
(She laughs aloud to set an example. From her place under the plastic dome she can see the Audience Sampler. The others in the pod are watching it too. Not a ripple on the faces there. Misch sets her grin)
We got a run of real top pals for you! So here we go—Round One, and guess who! Duppy Zorn and Greg Bailey!
(The first two competitors flash on the screen behind her, acknowledging their round of synthetic applause. Then her own face reappears there)
Been on the Sportsex Show a jumbo lot of times, this two. But here’s a crazy laugh—first time they came they got lost! Went this way, that way. Duppy lost Greg. She got in Artsex, doing this—
(An instant impression of an Artsex performer, posing and twirling)
—and Greg got in Foodshow, all over slop!

She ducks and dodges before an imaginary barrage of custard. She rolls her eyes, squints, mugs furiously. Nat turns to the Audience Sampler. There is no reaction whatever. He looks at Priest, who shakes his head hopelessly.

INSIDE THE STUDIO

A studio hand walks along a steel gallery set high in the wall. The instant he passes out of sight, Kin Hodder slithers down a tied-off rope and drops on to the gallery. He glances about, then creeps off in the opposite direction.

INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD

Misch has run out of invention.

MISCH
: . . . Next we got Nell Garner and Diggy Wilson. Now in hard training for the Sex Olympics, this top two took time—phew, my top teeth stuck—took time off to join our show—

While the next competitors acknowledge their applause, a warning lamp flashes fast and repeatedly on the desk. Opie flips a switch.

VOICE OF STUDIO CREWMAN
: Somebody up the studio wall.

OPIE
(sharply)
: Who is it?

VOICE OF STUDIO CREWMAN
: Dunno. Do we get after him?

NAT
: Hold it!

He turns to a small shutter in the wall of the pod and flips it open. Priest scrambles across to another. Isolated in her plastic dome, Misch stares wonderingly. Opie flaps a hand at her to carry on.

MISCH
: . . . And . . . and next, that super kingstyle two . . . that top pal team . . . my pals and your pals . . .

No use. She has dried. She looks out and shrugs.

Priest starts excitedly.

PRIEST
: Tell them quick. Get him!

Nat turns to give the instruction. But in the three paces back to the desk something happens to him. He halts, strangely, and then moves on.

On the big screen are the faces of the next two competitors, looking about them in some confusion.

Nat motions Opie aside. Opie defers, puzzled. Nat deftly handles the controls—and the main screen cuts to a blur that sharpens rapidly in to a shot of Kin Hodder. He is climbing down a huge rectangular frame towards the plastic competition booths just below.

PRIEST
: Nat! Are you crazy!
(Nat ignores him)
Don’t you see—he got those pictures—he going to try—!
(To Opie, waving frantically at the control desk)
Stop it! Stop him!

Opie makes a loyal dive at the controls. Nat grabs him. Neither man has the least skill in fighting, but Nat gets a hand over Opie’s face and flings him suddenly back. Opie crashes down with a howl. Nat turns to find Priest moving closer on the other side, and crouches protectively over the controls.

NAT
: Get back!

Priest staggers back in alarm against Misch’s dome. It flies open and Misch screams. Nat flips the controls to hold Kin Hodder in vision. He is at the bottom of the frame now. He wedges himself and pulls the roll of drawings out of his belt.

PRIEST
: Look at him!

The cry inspires Opie. He claws his way to the desk and yells before Nat can stop him.

OPIE
: Production pod to studio! Get that man!

He twists round to protect the flush-fitted microphone from further interference, covering it with his back. Nat grapples with him.

On the screen behind him studio crewmen, who have only been waiting for the word, start scrambling down the frame towards Kin Hodder. He sees them and tries to escape, clinging to the frame with one hand and waving his unrolled drawings in the other. He is shouting something indistinct.

Nat thumps Opie’s head against the desk, stunning him enough to push him aside. The shouts into the microphone.

NAT
: Kin Hodder! Show them!

Hodder looks wildly about, as if wondering where the shout came from. Hands are grabbing at him. He holds up his drawings, guessing at the direction. One of them goes fluttering away.