Don't you just hate it when websites that turn out content in irregular schedules? (I'm looking at you VG Cats). I know I do and I apologize for us not announcing out week off, it's just that it has been very hectic the past week. Sean's been traveling across Texas the past week and I have been busy moving out of Texas, not to mention I just started a new job so it's taking me time to settle in. Well anyways onto the content!
Have you ever watched Real Time with Bill Maher and then think to yourself "Man, that guy is an asshole"? I know that's what I thought when I watched an episode for my first earlier this week. I don't disagree with all of his politics (I don't try to classify myself politically but if I were to I would be closer to a left-centralist), I just hate his personality. You're probably wondering where I'm going with this, and it's simple: I wanted to write asshole characters after watching Real Time. Sean asked to me write a sequel to one of his earlier works so I took one that would work best: Immortal. It had everything needed: a TV host, a controversial subject (well for the narrator) and an audience, all had to do was introduce Rebecca's opposite and I had a story!
Jesus said that when someone does you wrong to turn the
other cheek, a great piece of advice passed on from generation to generation
followed by nearly everyone except for warlords and nightly news producers. The
last time I was on this show was ten years ago, a long time to wait out for a
second debate but when you freeze the aging process ten years doesn’t feel like
much. The studio hadn’t changed, much like their faces, it was as if the studio
froze in time like the rest of them. Other than the table in the center of the
stage, nothing was different, same logo same old globe above our heads, same
old host. The only thing that was different was me.
“Welcome back to World Nightly News,” Chris said. He sat
in the center of the table, I to his right, this time there was a few more
inches between us two just in case I didn’t repeat the same lesson as last
time. Opposite of me sat another man I’ve only seen in pictures, he looked the
same as he did in the photos: dark drooping eyes, skin was wrinkly as dried leather,
sagging cheeks and thinning hair. “Tonight was have a very special guest, one
we haven’t had on in a long time, she is currently the writer of the
controversial blog and leader of the movement of the same time, This Immortal
Coil and author of the book, On the Death of Species: How Neo-humanism Killed
Humanity. Rebecca Neilson!”
The spotlight shown down from the rafters, and perfectly
on cue the audience began their booing. I sat up straight and flushed them out,
it’s not my fault they couldn’t handle the truth. I looked at the mass of
people and smiled.
“Across from her is the founder of modern gene therapy,
the man who single handedly conquered death, some even call him the Second
Coming, I give you Dr. Royce J. Bernstein!”
The crowd erupted with cheer and applause, as if he were
some great leader who single handedly lead a nation to victory in a great war. I
didn’t bother looking towards the sea of people; I knew how they all acted when
they saw him throwing their hands up in his direction as if to touch him,
chanting his name like he was some religious speaker, applauding until their
hands developed calluses as rough as sand paper the whole shebang. All of this
for just publishing the damn paper, not for actually doing any lab work.
“Alright Dr. Bernstein,” Chris said, “we might not end
but this show does in less than half-an-hour so how about you have a seat?”
Dr. Bernstein laughed as he sat down, the cheers sunk
proportionally with his body. “Thank you so much Chris for having me on tonight.”
“No I thank you. It’s not every day we have a hero appear
on my show.”
“Thanks, I’m flattered,” he said locking eye contact with
me. “How are you doing Ms. Nielson?”
My blood boiled. Here he was, my adversary the man who
plagued humanity, and he was asking me how I was doing? I suppressed all primal
urges to snap out at him, and take the opportunity to punch him directly
between the eyes. You get used to this feeling when people look at you like you’re
the next Osama bin Ladin every day.
“I’m doing well,” I said, “you don’t seem to doing too bad
yourself.”
“I try,” he said.
“What’s this?” Chris said looking directly at the
cameras, his brows hyper extended upwards and his mouth gaping, it looked
comical. “Two mortal enemies are making small talk with each other? Well I guess
that ends tonight’s debate.”
The audience laughed on cue.
“You’re right Chris,” I said, “let’s get down to business.”
The audience silenced, I locked eyes once again with my
opponent.
