After Antoine left , the large auditorium seating section was filled with NPCs marching in neatly, most of whom were won in their thirties and forties, ready to watch their favorite dayti show. They seed excited, and they wore clothing and carried signs with Antoine’s na on them.
From my seat, I could actually see the script for the show on the teleprompter machine, and I realized I was fortunate because Antoine wasn’t going to have to film a full episode. It would just be snippets, just enough for a sound bite or two.
I didn’t really have to do anything. I wasn’t On-Screen, but Antoine was, as soon as he ca out from behind the curtain at the behest of the live studio announcer, who was in a booth to my left.
He ca out with his hands up in a big smile, and all the won cheered. They were absolutely in love with him.
Once the cheering died down, he managed to deliver the first line of his opening monologue:
“Thank you, thank you... You are seen, you are worthy, and you are chemically imbalanced in the cutest possible way.”
Those middle-aged won loved that.
He went on with his monologue, going through a few more jokes, saying,
“Big news from City Hall this week. Mayor Greenbough has officially rejected the Carousel Council on Health’s proposal for a public exercise awareness program. That’s right: no walking clubs, no outdoor yoga, not even a pamphlet with a sad apple on the front.”
He paused for the audience to chuckle.
“When asked why, the Mayor reportedly said, and I quote, ‘I don’t understand why people suddenly need help figuring out how to move their bodies.’”
Another pause, but this one was to build anticipation.
“This from a man who once described putting on his socks as ‘a core workout and a spiritual journey.’”
An image of the mayor flashed on a big screen behind Antoine. He was a rotund fellow.
This got a disturbingly big laugh. For a brief second, Antoine had difficulty keeping a straight face. It wasn’t because he found it funny; it was because everyone else was laughing so ferociously. He looked stunned.
“To be fair, he’s not wrong. I’ve seen that man bend over, and it looks like an exorcism.”
More laughter.
“But hey, the important thing is that he’s getting his steps in, even if it’s just walking back from the bathroom.”
I looked out over the audience, and they found that hilarious. I didn’t know exactly what it ant, but it was clearly related to the the of the story. There’s no reason that these won would be laughing that hard at an fat jokes.
There was sothing eerie about the whole situation, sitting there tucked away Off-Screen. Even Antoine was having trouble focusing in that atmosphere. He glanced over at and gave a look like, Are you seeing this?
His monologue went on like that. There were a few more an jokes mixed in with so that were funny, and almost all of them were related to health in so way.
He went Off-Screen as the NPCs started adjusting. We were jumping forward in his show. One of his guests ca out and sat on the couch next to his chair, where he interviewed them.
He wasn’t Off-Screen for long. Just enough for a ti skip forward.
“We’re back with my guest, Crystal Dane,” Antoine said, smiling for the cara. “She’s a trauma recovery specialist and the founder of SOMA24, a holistic protocol designed to help the body release what the mind can’t.”
He paused and looked back at her.
“Is that a fair summary of what you do?” he asked.
“That’s a great summary,” she said. “SOMA24 is about taking control of inner turmoil with nothing but grit and determination. Exercise is like a physical manifestation of the emotional labor it takes to break through grief, to smash sadness, and to be your best person all the ti. I’m telling you, I am happy all the ti, and it’s because of this system.”
Her tone and her insipid overenthusiasm both ca together to create an uneasy feeling.
“That sounds revolutionary,” Antoine said, the words catching in his throat.
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The system that she was describing sounded a whole lot like his trope, The Mountain as a taphor, which allowed him to mitigate the effects of his trauma through accomplishing physical feats. I could see a fear in his eyes, if only for a second, that this storyline might focus on that.
“I an, you have a history of trauma and sadness, don’t you?” Crystal asked.
Antoine swallowed hard. “Do I?” he asked. He looked out at the audience. “I think I’m doing pretty well.”
Everyone cheered.
“Well, you cover it up. But I’m talking about your divorce, sweetie. We all know how hard it hit you,” Crystal said.
Antoine did his best to look uncomfortable, but on so level, I felt like he was relieved that she was talking about so fictional trauma of divorce instead of his actual trauma, which would have been really weird and really uncomfortable.
“My divorce was very traumatic. I was in love,” he said soberly. “And I still have a lot of love. I just don’t know what to do with it anymore.”
He gave a shy smile to the audience.
“I can tell you what to do with it,” Crystal said.
“And what’s that?” Antoine asked.
“SOMA24,” Crystal answered. “The only exercise regin stronger than divorce, stronger than depression, and more resilient than any trauma I have ever seen.”
Antoine was taken aback. He looked at the cara for a mont, and then put his smile back on and went back into character.
“Well, you heard it here, folks,” Antoine said. “Defeat sadness, trauma, and depression with nothing but exercise.”
Was that thinly veiled sarcasm?
“And our proprietary diet regin and supplents,” Crystal added.
“Yeah, what she said,” Antoine said.
The show went on for a while longer, but most of it wasn’t On-Screen. And finally, none of it was.
The NPCs filed out of the room, except for those who had to hit their marks as background characters for the next scene, which would finally involve .
I stood up to greet Antoine as we both went On-Screen.
“Another great show, Doctor Stone,” I said.
“I don’t want that woman back. Not ever,” Antoine said. “They are not supposed to talk about my divorce.”
All business, apparently.
“We told her that. We tell all of your guests that. But there’s nothing we can do; this is a live taping. You’re just going to have to roll with it.”
“I want that part cut out for the reruns,” Antoine said. He was tapping into his actual emotions. “She’s not going to use my divorce to hawk her product. No one is.”
I’d seen enough of the various ephera with Antoine’s face and na on them, from magazines to posters, to know what his character was about. And since my character was supposed to be an, I could think of sothing to say.
“Antoine, you got famous marketing your love life. Everyone followed your relationships, your marriage, and then they followed your divorce. The country is more divided between you and Kimberly than it is between the political parties. You got rich sharing your happiness, and now you’re getting richer sharing your sadness. I don’t know if that’s right or wrong, but it’s the bed you made, and the pillows are made of gold. So man up.”
Maybe I was getting too much into character.
“Just be clear to them in the future that if they bring up my divorce, they will not be invited back on the show,” Antoine said.
“We’ll put it in bold letters in their contracts. All right? We want to keep you happy here, Doc.”
The only way I knew that Antoine and Kimberly had once been married was from one of the signs an NPC was carrying, with Kimberly’s face scribbled on and little horns drawn on her head.
“Antoine, I didn’t know you still cared,” Kimberly said from behind .
I hadn’t even noticed she had arrived.
He looked at her sternly. “Kim,” he said.
She looked at him, but then moved her eyes to . “Did you get my book?” she asked.
“I did,” I said.
“Did you read it?”
“Front to back,” I answered.
She gave an intensely skeptical look and smiled.
“No, actually, it was front and back. I’m sorry, I ssed that up.”
That must have been funny, because even Antoine couldn’t help but laugh, even though his character was supposed to be having an emotional mont.
“I signed it,” she said.
“I saw that, thank you,” I said. “Really ups the resale value.”
She laughed at my joke, and then Antoine said, “I guess you’re here for alimony, huh?”
He clearly ant it as a joke, to show how wealthy his character was and to try to create a dynamic of spite.
Kimberly was quick with the response. “Yes. Let grab my checkbook.”
Her answer surprised Antoine, because now he was the one taking alimony, not her.
She reached into her purse, pulled her checkbook out, and started filling out a check for him.
I could barely contain myself from laughing at her response, especially since she had improvised the existence of her checkbook altogether. That was bold.
Most of the ti, when we improvised, we tried to change things far in the future, where there would be enough ti to pull the thread and coax Carousel into changing reality.
Improvising small changes to a scene was theoretically supposed to be pretty easy, but it was strangely scary, because what if you said you had a checkbook and when you reached into your pocket, it wasn’t there?
Maybe that wasn’t the best example; you could just say you lost it, but still, trying to add things to the scene through improv was stressful.
“Riley,” Kimberly said as she ripped off a check and handed it to Antoine, “we still have our eting tonight, right?”
“As far as I know,” I said, grabbing my laminated schedule from my pocket.
I had only paid attention to the work-related items, but there was a small note there for the day. It simply said “Group Therapy.”
I was pretty sure it hadn’t been there. It must have been sothing that Kimberly found out about.
But there was another entry, one that had been there before but was so far down on the list that I hadn’t paid much attention to it.
It simply said “Party.”
I didn’t know what it ant, and Carousel must have saved the news until that mont.
My assistant Tilly walked up to and said, “Mr. Lawrence, this was dropped off by a courier earlier today.”
She handed a ticket. It was purple and gold and had nothing but an address on it, with a ti and date that lined up with my schedule.
As soon as my assistant had left, Antoine asked, “How did you get an invite? It’s supposed to be exclusive.”
“Hey,” I said, “my na still ans sothing in this town. Actually, that depends… what year is it?”
Antoine reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a similar golden and purple ticket. Kimberly likewise reached into her purse and produced one of her own.
It looked like we were going to a party.
But first, group therapy. Oh boy.
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