With the flick of his metaphorical wrist, Glio tugged on a packet of neurons that made Jared gag. An instant later, he felt the entire body convulse, and then Jared’s eyes opened.
The light was too intense, and Glio had to retreat part of the way up the optic nerve. The experience was painful and exhilarating all at once. Slowly, he inched his way forward again until, at last, he could see the world.
His first vision was shocking: The edges, the shadows, the innate qualities of the image were entirely different and entirely more satisfying than the memories and dreams on which he’d been feasting. Glio found himself looking at the person Jared thought of as “the nun.” Her weathered face had a countenance that was both angry and sad, a kind of fierce expression meant to calm but that could only terrify.
“Mr. Stone,” she was saying, “are you all right?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t see.”
Glio knew that Jared’s impaired sight was a direct result of his own activity on the optic nerve. No matter, he wasn’t going to stay long.
As he adjusted to the light, Glio could see that he was in the makeshift hospital room that had been Jared’s office. He was sorry he hadn’t seen the room before all the medical equipment had been moved in. Jared’s office was, Glio knew, a focal point in space that was central to the man’s character. And as Glio was subsuming the very essence of Jared’s character, it had become a focal point for him, too.
“Try shutting your eyes for a little while,” the nun said to Jared.
Jared tried to shut his eyes, but Glio tweaked the packet of neurons that made them pop back open.
“I can’t,” Jared said.
“That’s odd,” the nun answered. “Wait here. I’m going to get the doctor.”
“Right,” Jared answered. “ ‘Wait here.’ ”
Glio was no fan of the doctors. Twice they had pumped Jared full of morphine, and twice Glio had drifted off in a daze. The drugs slowed him down, and he didn’t like it. Not wanting another dose, he fled to the center of the brain, occupying himself with a memory of the night Jared won his first election but already scheming and planning for a more meaningful outing.
***
While Megan tried not to show it, she was annoyed with Ethan.
She’d hoped he had come in his limousine to tell her that she, Megan Stone, was, at least for a little while, going to be the star of Life and Death. She knew that with her dad too sick to do much of anything and her mother and sister on strike, now was her chance to step into the limelight.
But that wasn’t it at all.
“I want you to do something for me,” he had said. “I want you to keep an eye on Jackie and let me know if she tries to make any more movies.”
It left a bad taste in Megan’s mouth.
For one thing, she and Jackie had grown closer since their father had gotten sick. She knew it was just temporary, that Jackie wasn’t going to suddenly stop being weird, that things would eventually turn back to their natural order, but still, if she was being honest, she liked that she and Jackie were talking. Plus she guessed that what Ethan was asking would go against her mom’s wishes, and that didn’t sit too well.
Megan paused, looking at Ethan, waiting for the rest of it.
“I promise, Megan,” Ethan said, sensing her disappointment. “I will personally see to it that you get whatever you want. Better clothes, better makeup, better toys.”
Better toys? Megan thought.
“Just tell me what you want.”
When she didn’t respond, Ethan surged ahead, assuring Megan it was for the good of the show, that in the end, her family would understand.
“I-I … ,” Megan finally interrupted, feeling stupid saying it out loud, “I thought maybe you would want me to be in the show more.”
Ethan sat back and smiled. “Is that all? That’s easy, kiddo.” He took a deep, cleansing breath. “You help us, and I promise, you’ll get lots of screen time. This is how Hollywood works.” That was the phrase that sealed the deal for Megan. She was an insider now, in the know. She was Hollywood.
“Besides,” Ethan added, “the rest of your family is on strike. If you’re the only one talking to us, then you’re the only one we can use.”
In the end, Megan was able to convince herself—her inner demons drowning out her better instincts—that Jackie kind of deserved it for making that video. At least that’s what Ethan had told her.
Megan nodded and shook Ethan’s hand when it was offered.
The next afternoon, just after she had given the most detailed, enthusiastic, and altogether saccharine interview in the history of television interviews (“Oh, Andersona, I was just devastated at what happened to poor Trebuchet. That dog was a kind of soul mate to all of us.”), Megan put “Operation Nancy Drew” into action. Ethan had come up with the name, and even though Megan didn’t really know who Nancy Drew was, she played along.