When blogging first emerged as a major societal trend, it was news rendered anonymous. Rather than trusting something because Dan Rather looked good on camera, you trusted things because they sounded true. The same went for reports of personal adventures, or people writing poetry, or whatever else folks felt like putting out there for the world to see; you got no context on who created it, and so you judged the work on the basis of what it actually was. That changed when the zombies came, at least for the people who went professional. These days, bloggers don?t just report the news; they create it, and sometimes, they become it. Landing the position of pet bloggers for Senator Ryman?s presidential campaign? That definitely counts as becoming the news.
That?s part of why Shaun and Buffy keep me around. My journalistic integrity is unquestioned by our peers, and when we make the jump to alpha?the suddenly feasible jump to alpha?that?s going to cement our credibility. Shaun and Buffy will bring in the readers. I?ll make it okay for them to trust us. They just have to deal with my depressed personal ratings because part of what makes me so credible is the fact that my news is free from passion, opinion, and spin. I do op-ed, but for the most part, what you?ll get from me is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
So help me God.
Shaun elbowed me when we reached Bronson?s. I slid my sunglasses back into position and opened my eyes.
?Status?? I asked.
?A least four visible cameras. Probably twelve to fifteen, all told.?
?Leaks??
?That many cameras, at least six sites already know.?
?Got it. Buffy??
?Taking point,? she said, and straightened, putting on her best camera-ready smile. My parents exchanged amused looks in the front seat.
?It?s all uphill from here,? I said.
Shaun leaned over and opened the van door.
Before the Rising, crowds of paparazzi were pretty much confined to the known haunts of celebrities and politicians?the people whose faces could be used to sell a few more magazines. The rise of reality television and the Internet media changed all that. Suddenly, anybody could be a star if they were willing to embarrass themselves in the right ways. People got famous for wanting to get laid, a stunt men have been trying to achieve since the day we discovered puberty. People got famous for having useless talents, memorizing trivia, or just being willing to get filmed twenty-four hours a day while living in a house full of strangers. The world was a weird place before the Rising.
After the Rising, with an estimated eighty-seven percent of the populace living in fear of infection and unwilling to leave their homes, a new breed of reality star was born: the reporter. While you can be an aggregator or a Stewart without risking yourself in the real world, it?s hard to be an Irwin, a Newsie, or even a really good Fictional if you cut yourself off that way. So we?re the ones who eat in restaurants and go to theme parks, the ones who visit national parks even though we?d really rather not, the ones who take the risks the rest of the country has decided to avoid. And when we?re not taking those risks ourselves, we report on the people who are. We?re like a snake devouring its own tail, over and over again, forever. Shaun and I have done paparazzi duty when the stories were thin on the ground and we needed to make a few bucks fast. I?d rather go for another filming session in Santa Cruz. Something about playing vulture just makes me feel dirty.
Buffy was the first to flounce into the crowd, looking like a little glittering ball of sunshine and happiness before they closed ranks around her, flashbulbs going off in all directions. Her giggle could cut through steel. I could hear it even after she?d made it halfway to the restaurant doors, distracting the worst of the paparazzi in the process. Buffy?s cute, photogenic, a hell of a lot friendlier than I am, and, best of all, she?s been known to drop hints about her personal life that can be turned into valuable rating points when the stories go live. Once, she even brought out a boyfriend. He didn?t last long, but when she had him, Shaun and I could practically have danced naked on the van without getting harassed. Good times.