Early Edition, its characters and situations belong to CBS and
Tristar pictures. No copyright infringement is intended.
What would you do if you got tomorrow's paper... tomorrow?
No cat whining to come in at an ungodly hour in the morning. No urgent
errands to change the course of history before breakfast, no life and death
decisions before lunch. Just waking up, reading yesterday's news, and going
to work, going home, and then to bed.
However many impressions Chuck gave to the contrary, he would loathe to get
the future delivered to his doorstop everyday. Sure, he could always do with
the extra money, but being in charge of protecting the city was not his idea
of fun.
He stretched as he reached to get some coffee, which had cleverly been put
on the highest shelf. *Great!* He stretched towards it, and unsuccessfully
grabbed at it. Looking around, he spied a wooden stool; precariously
balancing on it to get a better reach. He could see the headline...
COFFEE KILLS STOCKBROKER
...Well, he would have seen the headline if Gary would let him see the paper
once in a while. But, no. He'd leave saving the world to guys wearing tights
and capes. And vegetarians wearing leather jackets.
Another hour until work. Another hour to listen to the news relay the
disasters from across the world, and wish she could have done something. But
even with the knowledge that the paper offered, Marissa would have no chance
to stop them all. She wondered if Gary ever felt the paper ignored his own
limits. She knew it must sometimes.
From the door came the clanking noise of her mail arriving; a letter from
her cousins across state, and her paycheque. No cat, and no newspaper.
Spike whined. *Right, breakfast.* She usually fed him around 15 minutes
before she left her house, and usually he was fine with that.
"Wait!" She was in no mood to change his, and her routine. That was until
Spike gave a little _pathetic_ whine, which instantly aroused her sympathy.
She went over to her fridge and found a bone for him to devour; he may be
her eyes, but he was also her friend.
The elevator took forever to reach his floor. Served him right for living
on the 37th floor, he supposed. At least he could see all over the city when
he wanted to; see the tiny people below him as mere models on a tiny train set,
people he didn't know and shouldn't care about. At that thought, he wandered
over to the window near the elevator entrance, and saw with amusement a
minuscule man clutching a crumpled paper, chasing an even smaller child down
the street. *He never stops,* he thought with amusement. Behind him he heard
the elevator arrive, and he hurried over to the doorway to get into it. It
was empty, and he stood right at the back, knowing that throughout the journey
to the bottom floor the thousands would enter.
"....And a couple have been killed in what looks like a 'road rage' incident
in Britain..." She sighed, and switched the channel smoothly.
"Haro La-La..." Huh? TV just got stranger and stranger these days. However
it never topped real life. One day she expected a talk show to come on and....
"Ricki help me... I get tomorrow's paper and need a makeover for
my cat..."
She shuddered at the thought. Gary would never save someone just for
publicity or his own gain; he just wasn't that kind of person. Chuck was
however, although some of the stunts that he'd pulled recently should have
convinced him of the difficulties that would face him. She wondered how he
got his car back.
*Guess I'm a hypocrite* She thought; Gary had used money he'd won - by
using the paper - to help her afford Spike. *Money may not bring happiness,
but it can help...*
"So I told him straight! They may both be red.... but one was Cinnamon, and
the other was Cherry. But the loser wouldn't listen to me... sometimes you
gotta ignore the colour..."
"Er.. that's nice." The redhead didn't sound bothered, but Chuck wasn't
about to give up.
"...And I live on the top floor..."
"...That must be cold when it snows." she softly added.
She had won that round. But he continued; they had 17 more floors to get to
know each other, "You're funny babe..." She mouthed 'babe' and shook her head.
"...But my floor, SL-37 as I like to call it..." She didn't get the joke.
"... It's soooo romantic, and you'd love it." The doors of the elevator
opened at level 20, and she pushed through the crowd to escape, mumbling
something about seeing a friend.
Chuck sighed and turned to the woman the other side of him, "So... do you
like..."
"Mr. Fishman. I'm married and..." She showed her wedding ring,"...not
today." It was the grumpy woman from the 25th. Damn! She looked so different
from behind...
"The usual Ms.Clark?" It was Nick, the taxi driver who had started to make a
habit of picking her up for work when she didn't walk.
"Yes thanks." She settled into her seat, and enjoyed the journey to her work
as well as she could; although she did like working in reception, she longed
for something more, something that Gary and his paper provided. Since the
paper arrived, he'd gone from acquaintance to trusted friend - she hoped that
she wasn't using him just for the paper; in some way making up for the
helplessness she felt when she heard of others' misery.
"Heya Spike!" Nick's rough voice startled her out of her ravine, and Spike
yapped in response to him. "Marissa? Do you still do the horses?"
She smiled broadly, "No. Never won anything on them anyway. More chance
with the lottery."
"Me too. What I really need is a crystal ball." The car slowed as it hit
rush hour traffic, "I wish I could predict the traffic as well. But, hey! It
makes life kinda interesting not knowing huh?"
"I suppose."
"CHUCK!" A frenzied voice called to him from across the road.
"Gar?" He spun to find the source of the sound.
"Chuck!" Gary. Who else? He was out of breath, and as usual, had the paper
tucked under his arm.
"Gar! You gotta take a break sometime or else you're gonna run into the
grave..." He tried to sound concerned, but it wasn't something it was
especially good at.
"Chuck! I need you to drive me to the zoo." Straight to the point.
*Should'a known, the paper. * "Gar! It's a weekday! Some of us need to
work..."
"Oh. Yeah." Gary looked at the ground in apology.
"Can't you take a cab?"
"In rush hour? I need to be there now!" Gary waved the paper at him wildly;
but not slow enough for Chuck to see what was written on it.
"Okay! Anything for a bud... here." Chuck threw the keys at Gary, "You take
it. _I'll_ take the cab. What's the use in being early anyways?"
"Thanks." Gary ran over to the car, avoiding being run over by several
annoyed taxi drivers, and sped off. Chuck stood alone, watching the space
where his car had been, lost in thought.
*Wow Gary; glad to see you've got plenty of time for your friends nowadays,*
he thought sarcastically.
He sighed and stepped closer to the edge of the
pavement to hail a cab, when out of the corner of his eye he saw the redhead
from the elevator walking to her car. *Maybe...maybe not.* Either way, it was
worth trying.
Jody '97
"Step up to red alert!"
"Are you absolutely sure Sir? It does mean changing the light bulb..."
Rimmer and Kryten, Red Dwarf.
(
geocities.com/TelevisionCity)