Her eyes dropped modestly, and they all turned to the door when the head technician leaned into the greenroom and said authoritatively, “Mr. Rales, you first, please, then Mr. Saladan, Dr. Cambri, then Dr. Kalamack. This way.” They hustled down the hall after him, cautioned to be quiet before they stole out onto the live floor.
Under a bright spotlight surrounded by a moat of space where cameras swam like silent alligators, their host, Heather, chatted with the off-site reporter out at one of Sacramento’s middle schools.
“Thank you, Tom,” Heather said brightly as she beamed at one of the cameras pulling in close on her. “We’ll be right back to talk to our own Dr. Cambri from Global Genetics and Mr. Saladan from Saladan Industries and Farms about how they’re working to put an end to hunger overseas as well as boost the economy here at home.”
“We’re clear!” someone shouted, and the woman’s smile widened.
“Good, good,” she said, hand over her eyes as she peered off set at them. “Wow. You guys look great. Don’t they look great, Howard?”
“They look great,” that same faceless voice said. “Three minutes.”
“Well, come on up,” she urged, waving them forward. “Let’s get you plugged in. Here, Mr. Saladan, I want you beside me. Then Mr. Rales, Dr. Cambri, and then Dr. Kalamack all on the couch. Rose between thorns, gentlemen. Quick like bunnies, now!”
The warmth of the lights was pleasant, and Kal obediently sat where she’d told him to, wondering why Heather had changed their positions as the technicians plugged his mic in. Saladan took the chair beside Heather with a dignified air, clearly pleased to have the place of honor. Trisk gingerly sat between Rick and Kal on the couch. The living vampire was brimming with a sexually charged confidence in his tight, British-inspired suit, making Kal think Heather was trying to keep her distance. Her enthusiasm didn’t seem fake as much as forced.
“You all look as if you should be on the cover of Vogue, not Scientific American,” the buxom blonde said as she touched her hair, wound up into a huge beehive. “I’m going to bring up a few things we talked about earlier, maybe delve deeper into one or two topics, but try to keep the science light. Our audience is a wide mix of housewives and professionals, and we don’t want anyone feeling threatened by their lack of education. Good? Good.”
“Five,” Howard said from the darkness. “Four, three . . .”
Suddenly Kal felt like the mayonnaise on a triple-decker sandwich, a tiny part of a revolving system of guests and shows, to be quickly replaced and forgotten in the ever grasping need for ratings. Sitting straight, he adjusted his tie to knock it off-kilter again so it would stand out more.
Heather beamed at the camera, taking the last second to brush her front smooth. “It’s all about fuzzy tomatoes this afternoon,” she said warmly. “We have with us today Mr. Rick Rales, the CEO of Global Genetics, based right here in Sacramento. With him is Mr. Max Saladan of Saladan Industries and Farms, who just bought the patent on the new Angel cultivar. Also with us is Dr. Trisk Cambri, the woman geneticist who created that fuzzy tomato everyone is talking about. Beside her is Dr. Trenton Kalamack, who has been chaperoning its shift from commercial trials to full production. Thank you all for joining me and my watchers for our lunchtime segment.”
Smiling, Rick took a breath to say hello, catching it when the woman steamrolled forward.
“I understand it’s been quite a year at Global Genetics as the Angel tomato came out of the basement, so to speak, and was made available both internationally and here at home in an extensive live trial with Saladan Farms,” she said, smile widening. “I hear it’s already proved invaluable in helping to feed the third world. Quite an accomplishment for having been in general cultivation for only one season. I’m going to jump right in with the question that is probably on all our viewers’ minds. Dr. Cambri, why is your tomato fuzzy?”
Confident and smiling, Trisk leaned forward. “Good afternoon, Heather. I’m glad you asked. The hairs are actually a big part of what makes the Angel so drought tolerant and are why we had to go through a second entire growing season trial period before finalizing the sale to Saladan Farms. There was a real concern that the general fuzziness of the plant and fruit would prevent the T4 Angel from becoming anything more than a farm crop,” she said, glancing at Saladan’s stiff smile. “But this year has proven without a doubt that that hasn’t been the case. Orders are already coming in for larger shipments next spring.”
“My mother has one in her backyard,” Heather said. “She got it for free in a promotion. I don’t think she’d ever have bought one on her own, but after having tasted it, I know she’d shell out some serious cash for it. The plant is as big as her VW, and it won’t stop fruiting.”