LotS/The Story/Puny Human Birthdays III/Titanomachy
The mood was grim in the production room of "Devastation Rex Destroys the Universe". Collars were unbuttoned, faces were sweaty and grim, and the air itself tasted of stale coffee.
The conference table was full. The Legal and PR heads, Katya and Parsons respectively, were sitting at the head of the table. To their left was Grolman from accounting, and to their right was the director, credited as "b. Noble" on the show. No one at the table ever called him that. They just called him Brant. On bad days and behind his back, the crew usually called him "that bastard" but none of the crew were invited to the meeting.
All three writers were in a row on one of the long sides. There was the Piscarian, the one with the glasses, and the last one. Her name might have been something that started with an M, but no one in the room remembered or cared. Writers didn't pull a lot of weight on a reality show like D.R.D.t.U. and they were only at the table in case the producer suddenly needed to shift some blame for the ratings. The writers had mostly stayed quiet and hoped no one would notice them long enough to ask why a reality show needed three writers.
Facing the writers, like a firing squad, were the four studio executives. Studio Executives A, B, C, and D. No one had asked their names. No one wanted to know, they just wanted the executives to stop being mad go back to corporate. The studio executives were not happy, and so no one was happy. The studio executives were not happy, so everyone was trapped in the room, at the table, forever.
On the other side of the studio executives, and at the far end of the table, opposite Katya from legal, was Emeret, the producer, desperately eying the writers.
And that was everybody.
The holographic screen that dominated the far side of the room were scrolling numbers, and the numbers weren't good.
These god damned numbers," said Studio Executive C to the room, "are NOT good."
No one rushed to say anything. He had said this many times.
"The Vince Vortex brand is riding on this, this is supposed to be the dedication episode for his birthday. Do you people not get this?" said Studio Executive A, "The man is dead, you want to kill his brand too? Is that what you want? You want to ruin a dead man's birthday?"
"No," said Emeret, with his head in his hands, "no, we don't."
"The, uh, the issue," Brant hazarded, "is that people just aren't enjoying the show. Nobody wants to tune in to see a big robot stepping on empty buildings. I can only jazz it up so much visually. Everyone knows there's nobody in there."
"What about if the buildings are full? People like that. Life and death stuff gets ratings," said Studio Executive D, and the other executives nodded along. She was right.
"No. No random murders. I know what the show is called, but Rex can't deliberately go around killing random people," Katya said, "not without contractual agreements. We'd get our pants sued off."
"We can't afford to have our pants sued off," Grolman pointed out, "At this rate we won't even be able to afford pants."
"I can't say it I love the idea either. It's very concerning for our image," said Parsons, because he was from PR and his job was to be concerned about every idea before the viewers could be concerned about it.
"These numbers are not GOOD, people," snapped Studio Executive C. He slapped his hands on the table and the writer who had glasses cringed down a little further into his seat.
"The Twisted Steel Champion Tournament got good numbers," Studio Executive B said, her tone letting everyone know that her idea was about to fix everything, "Why don't you just be more like that? Look at what they did on Twisted Steel and do that. They got GREAT numbers."
Everyone at the table who wasn't a Studio Executive took a breath and tried to think of ways to explain why this didn't make any sense without sounding condescending enough to lose their jobs. Everyone besides Emeret, who was quietly crying into his hands and making the Piscarian writer very uncomfortable.
It was Brant who broke the silence.
"In Twisted Steel, it was exciting because the fighters were fighting equal opponents. There was a thrill, rooting for one side or the other, not knowing who would win," he said, "and the fighters all had contracts. They could die and we were all in the clear."
"Well let's do that, get a fighter and have them sign a contract," said Studio Executive A, "and then we'll have the big robot kill them and boom, big numbers. Big ratings!"
"I have concerns about that," said Parsons, "that would look more like an execution than a fight, really."\
"Plus, who would sign up for that? There needs to be something in it for the fighter," Katya put in, "besides a horrible death I mean."
"Um, well," said the writer whose name might start with M, to the astonishment of the other two writers, and faltered when the focus of the room turned towards her.
"Well? Well what?" demanded Studio Executive D.
"Well," she started again, as her face slowly started to turn purple, "I was thinking, what if it WAS a fair fight? What if we just found someone really, um, really big. And they could fight."
The room was silent.
"Like Twisted Steel?" she squeaked out.
The writer who was a Piscarian and the writer who had glasses tried to somehow distance themselves without physically moving enough to draw attention.
The Studio Executives looked around the table expectantly, waiting for the objection.
Emeret and Brant were sharing the look of two drowning men suddenly feeling sand under their feet.
"Marcy--" Emeret began.
"Karen," said the writer whose name didn't start with an M after all.
"Karen, how much do we pay you?"
Katya and Parsons watched the live feed of the final episode of "Devastation Rex Destroys the Universe."
They watched as Devastation Rex and Great Big Rye began to brawl.
They watched as the fighters ignored the boundaries of the staging area and drifted towards civilization as they exchanged blows like meteors hitting and fell like earthquakes.
They watched as the fight stumbled into a major city.
They watched as the buildings were flattened underfoot, and the populace swarmed and fled.
They watched as the military arrived and began to lay down fire to stop the fight.
They watched as the two giant fighters started swatting military craft from the air.
"Well, better draft up a resignation," Katya said.
"Yeah," Parsons said.
They turned off the feed.