Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi (top novels of all time TXT) đ
- Author: John Scalzi
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Book online «Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi (top novels of all time TXT) đ». Author John Scalzi
âWhich do you like better, movies with evil aliens, or movies with good aliens?â
âI donât know,â I said. âI havenât really ever given it much thought.â
âPlease do so now,â Carl said. âIndulge me, if you donât mind.â
Carl could have said Please disembowel yourself and sautĂ© your intestines with mushrooms. Indulge me, if you donât mind and anyone in the agency would have done it. Itâs disgusting what sycophancy can do.
âI guess if I had to make the choice, Iâd go with the evil aliens,â I said. âThey just make for better films. Put in a bad alien and you get the Alien films, Independence Day, Predator, Stargate, Starship Troopers. Good aliens get you *Batteries Not Included. No contest.â
âWell,â Carl said, âThere is E.T. And Close Encounters.â
âIâll give you E.T.,â I said. âBut I donât buy Close Encounters. Those aliens were cute, sure, but that doesnât mean they werenât evil. Once they got out of the solar system, Richard Dreyfus was probably penned up like a veal. Anyway, no one really knows whatâs going on in that movie. Spielberg must have been downing peyote frosties when he thought that one up.â
âThe Star Trek movies have good aliens. So do the Star Wars movies.â
âThe Star Trek movies have bad aliens too, like the Klingons and those guys with the wires in their heads.â
âThe Borg,â Carl said.
âRight,â I said. âAnd in Star Wars, no one was from Earth, so everyone, technically, was an alien.â
âInteresting,â Carl said. He was steepling his fingers together. Apparently the revelation that everyone in Star Wars had a passport from some other planet had transfixed him like a particularly troublesome Zen koan.
âIf you donât mind me asking, Carl,â I said, âWhy are we talking about this? Are we putting together a package for a science fiction movie? Other than Earth Resurrected, I mean.â
âNot exactly,â Carl said, unsteepling his fingers, and placing them, flat out, on the desk. âI was having a discussion with a friend of mine about this and I wanted to get another opinion on it. Your opinion on the matter is like his, by the way. Heâs pretty much of the opinion that people are more comfortable with aliens as a hostile âotherâ rather than a group that would have friendly intentions.â
âWell, I donât think most people really think of aliens one way or the other,â I said. âI mean, weâre talking about movies, here. As much as I like the movies, itâs not the same time thing.â
âReally?â The fingersteeple was suddenly back. âSo if real aliens dropped from the sky, people might accept that theyâd be friendly?â
I was back to staring again. I remembered having a conversation like this, once before in my life. The difference was that that conversation was back in my deeply stoned college freshman days, in a room strung with Christmas lights and tin foil, lying on a beanbag. The conversation I was having now was with one of the few men on the planet who could have the President of the United States return his call. Within ten minutes (They roomed together at Yale). Having this conversation with Carl was profoundly incongruous, right up there with listening to your grandfather talk about the merits of the hottest new sports kayak.
âMaybe,â I ventured. When in doubt, equivocate.
âHmmmm.â Carl said. âSo, Tom. Tell me about your clients.â
I have a little man in the back of my brain. He likes to panic in situations like these. He was looking around nervously. I kicked him back into his hole and started down the list.
First and foremost, obviously, was Michelle: beautiful, in demand, and not nearly smart enough to realize the dumbest thing she could at this point in her life is not take the money and run. I blamed myself.
Next up was Elliot Young, hunky young star of the ABCâs âPacific Rimâ. âPacific Rimâ was second in its Wednesday 9 PM time slot and 63rd overall for the year. But thanks to Elliotâs tight, volleyball-player ass and ABCâs willingness to have him drop his shorts to solve crime at least once per episode, it was cleaning up in the 18-34 female viewers category. ABC was selling a lot of ad time to yeast infection treatments and feminine products with âwingsâ. Everyone was happy. Elliotâs looking to expand into film, but then, of course, who isnât.
Rashaad Creek, urban comic, originally from the mean streets of Marin County, where theyâll busta cap in your ass for serving red wine with fish. Rashaad wasnât nearly as neurotic as most comedians, which means on his own heâs generally not as funny. Nevertheless, thanks to some nice packaging work, weâd sold his pilot âWorkinâ Out!â to UPN. Rashaadâs budding career was watched over like a hawk by his overbearing manager, who also happened to be his mother. We pause for a shudder here.
The unfortunately-named Tea Reader (pronounced tee-a), singer-turned-actress that I inherited from my old podmate after his forebrain sucked inward. Tea, from what I can figure, contributed a good half of his stress â notoriously difficult and given to tantrums far out of proportion to her track record (Three singles from one album, peaking at #9, #13 and #24, respectively, a second female lead in a Pauly Shore flick, and a series of ads for Mentos). She was just this side (she insisted) of 30, which made her a perfect candidate to host her own talk show or infomercial. Tea called about once a week and threatened to get other representation. I wish.
Tony Baltz, a character actor who was nominated for a Best Supporting Oscar a decade ago, and had since refused to consider anything thatâs not a lead role. Which was a shame, as the romantic lead market for 50-something short, bald guys was pretty much already sewn up by Danny DeVito and Dennis Franz. We managed to get him the occasional âLifetimeâ movie.
The rest of my clients were a collection of has-beens, never-weres, near-misses and not-there-yets, the sorts of folks that fill out the bottom half of every junior agentâs dance card. Someone has to play the second spear-carrier on the left, and someone has to represent them. Be that as it may, going over the list with Carl, I realized that if it wasnât for the presence of Michelle, my client roster was of the sort that makes for a lifetime of junior agenthood. I decided not to bring it up.
âSo, to recap,â Carl said, after I had finished, âOne superstar, two average-to-mediocres, two marginals and a bunch of filler.â
I thought about trying to sweeten up that assessment, but then realized there wasnât a point. I shrugged. âI suppose so, Carl. Itâs no worse than any other junior agentâs client list here.â
âOh, no, I wasnât criticizing,â Carl said. âYouâre a good agent, Tom. You look out for your people and you get them work â and, as today proves, you can get them what theyâre worth and then some. Youâre a sharp kid. Youâre going to do well in this business.â
âThanks, Carl,â I said.
âSure,â he said. He pushed back his chair a bit and plopped his legs on the table. âTom, how many of your clients do you think you can afford to lose?â
âWhat?â
âHow many can you lose?â Carl waved his hand. âYou know, farm out to other agents, drop entirely, whatever.â
The little man in my head had escaped from his hole and was running around frantically, as if on fire. âNone!â I said. âI mean, with all due respect, Carl, I canât lose any of them. Itâs not fair to them, for one thing, but for another thing, I need them. Michelleâs doing well now, but believe me, thatâs not going to last forever. You canât ask me to cut myself off at the knees.â
I pushed back slightly from the table. âJesus, Carl,â I said. âWhatâs going on here? First the science fiction, now with my clients â None of this making much sense to me at the moment. Iâm getting a little nervous, here. If youâve got some bad news for me, stop twisting me and just get to it.â
Carl stared at me for the fifteen longest seconds in my life. Then he put his feet down, and moved his chair closer to me.
âYouâre right, Tomâ he said. âIâm not handling this very well. I apologize. Let me try this again.â He closed his eyes, took a breath, and looked straight at me. I thought my spine was going to liquefy.
âTom,â he said, âI have a client. Itâs a very important client, Tom, probably the most important client we as an agency will ever have. At least I canât imagine any other client being more important than this one. This client feels that he has a very serious image problem, and Iâd have to say that I agree with him there. He has a special project that he wants to put together, something that needs the most delicate handling imaginable.
âI need someone to help me get this project off the ground, someone that I can trust. Someone who can handle the job for me without my constant supervision, and who can keep his ego in check for the sake of the project.
âIâm hoping youâll be that someone for me, Tom. If you say no, it wonât affect your role at the agency in the slightest â you can walk out of this office and this meeting that weâve had simply wonât have happened. But if you do say yes, it means youâre committed, whatever it takes, for as long as it takes. Will you help me?â
The little man in my head was now pounding on the backsides of my eyeballs. Say NO, the little man was saying. Say no and then letâs go to TGI Fridays and get really, really drunk.
âSure,â I said. The little man in my head started weeping openly.
Carl reached over, covered my hand like it was his computer mouse, and shook it vigorously. âI knew I could count on you,â he said. âThanks. I think youâre going to enjoy this.â
âI hope so,â I said. âIâm in for the long haul. So who is the client? Is it Tony?â Antonio Marantz had been caught fondling a sixteen-year-old extra on the set of the latest Morocco Joe film. It was a bad situation made worse by the fact that the sixteen-year-old that Peopleâs âMost Eligible Bachelorâ was fooling around with happened to be a boy, and the son of the director. After the directorâs fingers were pried from Tonyâs throat, everything was hushed up. The director got a million dollar raise. The boy got a Directorâs Guild âinternshipâ on the Admiral Cook biopic that was filming in Greenland for the next six months. Tony got a stern lecture about the effect that cavorting with underage boys would have on the asking price of his next role. The crew got lesser but still fairly rich favors. Everyone stayed bought; It didnât even make the gossip column of Buzz. But you never know. These things spring leaks.
âNo, itâs not Tony,â Carl said. âOur client is here.â
âIn the building?â
âNo,â Carl said, tapping the aquarium that was between us. âHere.â
âIâm not following you, Carl,â I said. âYouâre talking about an aquarium.â
âLook in the aquarium,â Carl said.
For the first time since I entered the room, I took a good look at the aquarium. It was rectangular and neither especially big or small â about the size of the usual aquarium youâd see in any home. The only thing notable about it was the absence of fish, rocks, bubbling filters or little plastic treasure chests. It was filled entirely with a liquid that was clear but slightly cloudy, as if the
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