Remake

I looked up at the arrays. On the bottom row Fred was trying to find the real Ginger in among the masks. On the third screen, top row, he was trying to talk her into a pop — she twirled away from him, he advanced, she returned, he bent toward her, she leaned languorously away.

All of which I’d better get on with or I was going to flash with Alis still sitting there on the edge of the bed, clothes on and knees together.

I asked for sound on Screen Three and sat down next to Alis on the bed. “I think you’re good enough,” I said.

She glanced at me, confused, and then realized I was picking up on her “I’m not good enough” line. “You haven’t seen me dance,” she said.

“I wasn’t talking about dancing,” I said, and bent forward to kiss her.

The center screen flashed white. “Message,” it said. “From Heada Hopper.” She’d spelled Hedda with an “a.” I wondered if Hedda’d had another revelatory flash and was interrupting to tell it to me.

“Message override,” I said, and stood up to clear the screen, but it was too late. The message was already on the screen.

“Mayer’s here,” it read. “Shall I send him up? Heada.”

The last thing I wanted was Mayer up here. I’d have to make a copy of the paste-up and take it down to him. “River Phoenix file,” I said to the computer, and shoved in a blank opdisk. “Where the Boys Are. Record remake.”

The dancing screens went blank, and Alis stood up. “Should I go?” she said.

“No!” I said, rummaging for a remote. The comp spit out the disk, and I snatched it up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. I’ve just got to give this to a guy.”

I handed her the remote. “Here. Hit M for Menu, and ask for whatever you want. If the movie you want isn’t on ILMGM, you can call up the other libraries by hitting File. I’ll be back before the Continental’s over. Promise.”

I started out the door. I wanted to shut the door to keep her there, but it looked more like I’d be right back if I left it open. “Don’t leave,” I said, and tore downstairs.

Heada was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. “Sorry,” she said. “Were you popping her?”

“Thanks to you, no,” I said, scanning the room for Mayer. The room had gotten even more crowded since Alis and I left. So had the screen — a dozen Fred and Gingers were running split-screen circles around each other.

“I wouldn’t have interrupted you,” Heada said, “but you asked before if Mayer was here.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Where is he?”

“Over there.” She pointed in the direction of the Freds and Gingers. Mayer was under them, listening to Vincent explain his edit program and twitching from too much chooch. “He said he wanted to talk to you about a job.”

“Great,” I said. “That means his boss has got a new girlfriend, and I’ve got to paste on a new face.”

She shook her head. “Viamount’s taking over ILMGM and Arthurton’s going to head Project Development, which means Mayer’s boss is out, and Mayer’s scrambling. He’s got to distance himself from his boss and convince Arthurton he should keep him instead of bringing in his own team. So this job is probably a bid to impress Arthurton, which could mean a remake, or even a new project. In which case…”

I’d stopped listening. Mayer’s boss was out, which meant the disk in my hand was worth exactly nothing, and the job he wanted to see me about was pasting Arthurton’s girlfriend into something. Or maybe the girlfriends of the whole Viamount board of directors. Either way I wasn’t going to get paid.

“…in which case,” Heada was saying, “his coming to you is a good sign.”

“Golly,” I said, clasping my hands together. “ ‘This could be my big break.’ ”

“Well, it could,” she said defensively. “Even a remake would be better than these pimping jobs you’ve been doing.”

“They’re all pimping jobs.” I started through the crush toward Mayer.

Heada squeezed through after me. “If it is an official project,” she said, “tell him you want a credit.”

Mayer had moved to the other side of the freescreen, probably trying to get away from Vincent, who was right behind him, still talking. Above them, the crowd on the screen was still revolving, but slower and slower, and the edges of the room were starting to soft-focus. Mayer turned and saw me, and waved, all in slow motion.

I stopped, and Heada crashed into me. “Do you have any slalom?” I said, and she started fumbling in her hand again. “Or ice? Anything to hold off a klieg flash?”

She held out the same assortment of capsules and cubes as before, only not as many. “I don’t think so,” she said, peering at them.

“Find me something, okay?” I said, and squeezed my eyes shut, hard, and then opened them again. The soft-focus receded.

“I’ll see if I can find you some lude,” she said. “Remember, if it’s the real thing, you want a credit.” She slipped off toward a pair of James Deans, and I went up to Mayer.

“Here you go,” I said to Mayer, and tried to hand him the disk. I wasn’t going to get paid, but it was at least worth a try.

“Tom!” Mayer said. He didn’t take the disk. Heada was right. His boss was out.