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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24865-h.zip b/24865-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..36b531b --- /dev/null +++ b/24865-h.zip diff --git a/24865-h/24865-h.htm b/24865-h/24865-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8481263 --- /dev/null +++ b/24865-h/24865-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1763 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Premiere, by Richard Sabia + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: left; clear: both;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .smcapl {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + .figcenter {margin: 0 auto; width: 600px;} + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + .titl {width: 19em; margin: 2em auto;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .tease {font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-size: large; word-spacing: .4em;} + .theend {text-align: right; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Premiere, by Richard Sabia + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Premiere + +Author: Richard Sabia + +Release Date: March 18, 2008 [EBook #24865] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PREMIERE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="600" height="286" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="titl"><p class="tease">The young actor was great....<br /> +They didn't realize just how great +until the night of</p> + +<h1><big>THE<br /> +PREMIERE</big></h1> + +<h2>By RICHARD SABIA</h2></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Clamped</span> to the contour +couch, the young girl strained +against the padded steel grips +and screamed. Again she writhed +and screamed as she felt the +hideous touch of the monster +snatching at her. She struggled +frenziedly through the muck of +the swamp but the thing with +the blood eyes scrabbled faster +on its rotten limbs. The thing +seized her in its obscene embrace. +Raw terror tore another +scream from her throat. Behind +her on the projector a needle +slammed into the red zone. Beyond +the hundreds of long rows +of couches a warning light +flashed on the control console of +Mezzanine F and its persistent +buzz snared the attention of one +of the ushers. He glanced at the +light's location number and ran +along one of the aisles till he +came to the girl. He saw that the +projector had shut off the feature +feelie and was running the +emergency tranquil strip. She +had stopped screaming but her +breathing was still agitated. He +looked around at the rows of +couches, nearly all occupied but +none of the other patrons seemed +more frightened than they +should be. Some of the other +ushers had halted on their +rounds and were looking quizzically +across at him. He shrugged +the question back at them, +removed the feelie permit from +its clip on the girl's couch and +checked the permitted intensity +level against the setting of the +projector. They matched. Still +puzzled, he examined the other +settings without discovering +any apparent cause for her +fright-hysteria. The tranquil +strip ended and the machine +shut itself off. The usher moved +a switch that released the pressure +of the electrodes against +the girl's head and retracted +them into the headset. Her eyes +opened as he removed the apparatus +and folded back the +clamps.</p> + +<p>"Feel all right, miss?" he inquired +with a solicitous smile.</p> + +<p>She nodded, but her eyes still +held echoes of alarm.</p> + +<p>"Better come down to the +clinic," he said gently, assisting +her from the couch.</p> + +<p>She said nothing but allowed +him to lead her along. They stepped +into a float shaft and drifted +gently down past other floors of +the theater occupied by the +myriad rows of feelie couches. +When they reached what was obviously +an office level, the usher +grasped a tug bar which pulled +them into a corridor opening. +He brought her to the clinic and +left her with the doctor after explaining +what had happened.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The doctor seated her alongside +his desk. "How do you feel +now?"</p> + +<p>She smiled weakly. "All right +Ah guess," she said with a soft +drawl.</p> + +<p>"Let's see," he said looking at +her feelie permit, "you are Miss, +ah, Loretta Meenan, and, well, +you are from Hammond, Louisiana." +He looked up at her and +smiled. "May I ask how old you +are Miss Meenan?"</p> + +<p>"Sixteen."</p> + +<p>"A very charming sixteen, I +must say. Are you here with +your family?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Ma an' pa are at the +convention. They let us come to +the feelies."</p> + +<p>"Us?"</p> + +<p>"Mah older brother, Jason."</p> + +<p>"Oh? How old is he?"</p> + +<p>"Eighteen. But he's big, real +man-lookin' an' folks who don't +know mistake him for past +twenty."</p> + +<p>"What couch did he have?"</p> + +<p>"Next to mine on the left."</p> + +<p>The doctor consulted his notepad. +"Ah, that would make it +number, ah, six thousand forty-two. +We'll have one of the ushers +bring him down."</p> + +<p>"Please don't," she said hastily. +"Not 'till the feelie's over +anyhow. He'll have the furies +with me if he misses the endin' +on mah account."</p> + +<p>"All right," the doctor agreed +amiably. "How are you enjoying +your visit to New York?"</p> + +<p>"Ah'm havin' a dazzlin' time."</p> + +<p>"Good. Do you go to the feelies +at home?" The doctor saw +her tense forward from the +curve of the chair.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Enjoy them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever been badly +upset by horror feelies before?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>The doctor was aware of the +apprehension behind her guardedness. +"Do you have any idea +why this one should have upset +you so?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, except maybe the +excitement. Ah ain't never been +much away from home before +but once to New Orleans."</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at her permit +card again. "This isn't a +very good likeness of you."</p> + +<p>"It does reflect me poorly," +she murmured.</p> + +<p>The doctor's smile evaporated +from his suddenly stern face. +"Perhaps it's because this is not +your picture and this is not your +card."</p> + +<p>Her face went white.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Robina Rowe." Her downcast +eyes were locked on her fingers +squirming in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Who's Loretta Meenan?"</p> + +<p>"Mah girlfriend."</p> + +<p>"Why did you borrow her +card?"</p> + +<p>She was close to tears. "Ah +jus' had to go to this feelie. It's +got mah very favorite actor in +it."</p> + +<p>"Evidently your card doesn't +permit you to attend horror +feelies."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Why not? Nightmares?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me you have a bad +heart!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head again. +"Ah'm a Sensitive," she said +bleakly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In a sudden surge of anger +the doctor half rose out of his +chair and leaned across the desk. +"Why you little fool!" he roared. +"You little damn fool!"</p> + +<p>From the open doorway a +shape hurtled across the desk at +the doctor and crashed with him +to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Jason!" Robina shrieked.</p> + +<p>"Don't you talk to mah sister +that way," Jason shouted as he +pummelled the doctor. "Ah'll kill +you!"</p> + +<p>The usher who had guided Jason +to the clinic dashed around +the desk to pull the boy from the +doctor. Robina tried to help but +in the tussle she was knocked +down, striking her head on a leg +of the overturned chair. Jason, +hearing her cry of pain, leaped +off the doctor to aid her.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"It's only a little bump," Jason +said reassuringly as he +cradled her in his arms.</p> + +<p>The doctor got to his feet and +glared at the tall, strikingly +handsome boy-man helping his +sister to a chair.</p> + +<p>That done, Jason whirled to +face the doctor. "Now listen +here—"</p> + +<p>"Now you listen to me," the +doctor shouted. He saw Jason +gather himself as if for another +leap but Robina placed a restraining +hand on his arm and +his fists slowly uncurled. "If you +loved your sister as much as you +pretend to you wouldn't have +helped her try to kill herself!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" the boy +said sullenly.</p> + +<p>"You know damn well what I +mean," the doctor said. "You +<i>know</i> your sister is a Sensitive. +She experiences things with ten +times the impact of an ordinary +person and her empathy threshold +is so high a death scene in +a feelie could kill her! And if +you don't know what some of +the words mean," the doctor +said, noticing Jason's slight +puzzlement, "you do know what +your sister is and the care that +has to be taken."</p> + +<p>The guilt in Jason's abashed +face agreed.</p> + +<p>Fired by his anger, the doctor +raged on. "Why the devil do you +think we have laws concerning +attendance permits? What do +you think all that testing by doctors +and psychologists before a +permit is issued is for? You, +you big ox, could be killed by +fright too if the intensity level +of the projector was set higher +than your psycho-profile rating."</p> + +<p>He saw his last words had lost +the boy again. "In any case you +know better. Why did you allow +your sister to endanger her life +by letting her illegally use another's +permit? And of all +things, a horror feelie!"</p> + +<p>"Ah didn't want to take her," +Jason complained, "but she jus' +fussed an' fretted at me 'till Ah +gave in."</p> + +<p>"Well you've both broken the +law. Your parents will be notified +and you'll have to stay here +until they come." The doctor +buzzed and a guard appeared. +"Take these two to Mr. Lemson's +office," he instructed him.</p> + +<p>The guard led them from the +floating steel and crystal theater +structure of the U-Live-It Corporation +complex to the executive +wing of the general offices. +He stayed with them until the +receptionist at the office suite of +Vice President Cyrus W. Lemson +ushered them inside.</p> + +<p>After having them seat themselves, +Mr. Lemson stared at +Jason in his tight, crimson, dress +dungarees and rhinestone speckled, +black shirt which accentuated +his lithe, muscled body. +<i>Eighteen or not</i>, he thought in +mild astonishment, <i>that handsome +giant is no boy</i>. "The doctor +viphoned me about you," he +said sternly. He spoke to them +further about the seriousness of +what they had done and told +them their parents were on the +way down. Then he took them +into an interior office furnished +like a luxurious living room. +"Please wait here," he said, "until +your people arrive. Magazines +are there on the table and you +may turn on the television set." +He closed the door.</p> + +<p>"Want me to turn on the television +set?" Jason asked.</p> + +<p>"No, Ah don't much feel like +it."</p> + +<p>They settled themselves on the +enormous couch and Robina looked +at her brother. "Jason, Ah'm +real sorry. Ah went an' stirred +up a hornet's nest of trouble for +you again."</p> + +<p>"Don't fret about it, Robee. +They won't really do nothin' serious. +They'll talk to Ma an' Pa +an' Pa'll make like he's goin' to +cuff us aroun' when we get back +to the hotel an' instead he'll jus' +look dark an' make us feel bad +with his talk. It'll jus' be a lot +of commotion like a bee stuck in +a tar bucket."</p> + +<p>"Ah guess," Robina said. She +cast a sheepish glance at her +brother. "Say Jason, how did the +feelie end up?"</p> + +<p>Jason was indignant. "Now +listen, Robee, ain't you had +enough? You heard the doc say +that last was like to kill you."</p> + +<p>"Please, Jason, there's nothin' +wrong with you jus' <i>tellin'</i> me."</p> + +<p>"It's almost as bad. You still +get yourself all flittered up."</p> + +<p>"That's because nobody can +tell a story like you do, the way +you act it out an' all."</p> + +<p>"Ah don't act it out. Ah jus' +tell it."</p> + +<p>"Well <i>you</i> might call it tellin' +but everybody home says it's +jus' like a feelie when you do it. +An' don't pretend you don't +know it, brother Jay, an' enjoy +it too!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Jason did not tell the ending +of the feelie; he recreated it. He +was the monster slurching +across the floor toward her, step +by scraping step and in spite of +her fist on her mouth a tiny nervous +scream escaped Robina. +Jason wanted to stop then but +she badgered him into continuing. +Now he was the hero, Gregg +Mason, battling the unspeakable +fiend and she shivered uncontrollably +as she watched them +struggle to the death. In a last, +desperate, superhuman effort, +Gregg's hands clawed into the +monster's body and ripped out +the foul, quivering heart of it. +The creature twisted to the +ground and perished in its own +slime. Gregg, torn and bleeding +and with shock-frozen eyes, +turned and staggered into the +arms of Robina.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gregg, Gregg," Robina +cried in relief, the tears streaming +down her face.</p> + +<p>"It's okay, Joan," he said comforting +her, "okay. It's all over +now. C'mon now, Joan, get out +from behind those tears so you +can see how much Ah love you. +Everything's all right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gregg!" A weak smile +broke through.</p> + +<p>Gregg enfolded Joan in his +arms and pressed his mouth +against her eager lips.</p> + +<p>"What are you two <i>doing</i>?!!" +a shocked voice exclaimed from +the open door.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Gregg and Joan were blown +away by the sound like spindrift +before the wind. Jason and Robina +slowly came apart to see +Mr. Lemson and another man +coming into the room.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you +both?" Mr. Lemson spoke again. +"Aren't you in enough trouble +now?"</p> + +<p>"Let me handle this, Cy," the +other man said stepping forward. +"I'm Bob Herschell," he +said smiling and radiating +friendliness at the youngsters. +"Would you please tell me exactly +what you were doing before +we came in here?"</p> + +<p>"Weren't doin' nothin'," Jason +said belligerently.</p> + +<p>"Shades of the decadent +South!" Lemson exclaimed. +"Brother and sister glued together +and he calls it <i>nothin'</i>."</p> + +<p>"Ah wasn't kissin' her like +you think," Jason said hotly. +"Ah was tellin' her a story."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a story?" Herschell +asked excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Ah was tellin' her the end of +the feelie we saw; Ah mean Ah +saw. She didn't get to see it."</p> + +<p>"You mean Terror From +Mars?" Herschell asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah guess that's it. Ah don't +recollect the title for certain."</p> + +<p>"Great!" Lemson said. "It +often takes a week long conference +to select a feelie title and +this typical American youth +can't remember the name of the +feelie he lived less than a hour +ago."</p> + +<p>"How were you telling it?" +Herschell asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah jus' told it."</p> + +<p>"He storytells fine," Robina +said proudly. "He sorta acts it +out with feelin' an' really makes +it seem like it's happenin' to you +right then and there."</p> + +<p>Herschell turned to Lemson. +"I'm sure he's the one, Cy. It +fits. I've got the spark of an +idea and if it works then U-Live-It +will be right on top of +the feelie heap."</p> + +<p>"We're already on top," Lemson +said wearily. "U-Live-It is +the biggest producer of feelies +and I think you're crazy, I think +they're both insane and I will be +if you don't tell me what this is +all about. You come barging +into my office—"</p> + +<p>"Sorry, Cy, but this thing +happened so fast. I'm in my office +right below you. I've got +Myra Shane doing a reading, +trying to convince her the part +is perfect for her. But she isn't +coming through on the receptor. +Instead I'm getting the climax +of Terror From Mars. Zack is +receptorman and it takes him +less than no time to check +through and okay our electronics. +That means only one thing. +Someone, somehow, is blotting +us with another projection. I +call around and no one is running +a projector and no one is +reading. Your girl tells me you +have a couple of kids up there +so I come up to see. And I'm sure +that big rebel is the one! He has +to be!"</p> + +<p>Lemson was alert with interest. +"But he's not wearing a +relay. How could the receptor +pick up and record his perceptics?"</p> + +<p>"He might have a surgical." +Herschell inquired of Jason, +"Did you ever have an operation +for the insertion of an encephalic +booster relay! you know, a +thought relay?"</p> + +<p>"You mean them tiny transistor +things that feelie actors have +stuck in their heads?"</p> + +<p>"That's it."</p> + +<p>"No, Ah never had nothin' +like that," Jason said, baffled.</p> + +<p>"That's impossible," Lemson +said, "no one can project with +enough natural power to imprint +a receptor unless they've +got a booster."</p> + +<p>"Well it's not impossible anymore," +Herschell said gleefully. +"Look Cy, you squash this silly +business about the permit. I +want this fella to make a receptor +test as soon as possible. +When his folks show up tell +them we might want to make a +feelie star out of their son but +don't build it up or they'll be +back with a regiment of lawyers +and contracts."</p> + +<p>"Bob, you're going off the +deep end with this deal. So +what if he can project <i>au naturel</i>? +Can he act?"</p> + +<p>"If you had been plugged into +the receptor like I was a few +minutes ago and felt him, you +wouldn't even ask."</p> + +<p>"What about that atrocious +accent?"</p> + +<p>"Look, Cy, I'll abide by the +receptor test. If he can't act; +out! If he's as terrific as I think +he is we'll put him in westerns +and civil war feelies until we +can train the accent out of him. +Cy, if he doesn't turn out to be +the greatest thing that hit the +feelie business I'll eat my contract."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Five months later Herschell +came beaming into Lemson's office +and tossed an open-folded +newspaper at him. "Cy, did you +read Lorancelli's review of +Rowe's oatburner?"</p> + +<p>"That's just great!" Lemson +snapped. "We spend millions of +advertising and publicity dollars +to convince people that we make +<i>adult</i> westerns and you, a production +vice president, go +around calling them <i>oatburners</i>."</p> + +<p>"Okay, Cy, but read the review. +He rated the feelie so so +but he raves about Jason Rowe."</p> + +<p>Lemson picked up the paper +and had it immediately snatched +out of his hands by an impatient +Herschell who began reading +snatches of it. "Listen ... uh ... +Jason Rowe is an intense young +man whose magnificent talent is +wasted in the role of a young +gunfighter in this bland western +... uh ... he projects a sense +of immediacy and aliveness endless +in its delicate ramifications +of feeling. His characterization +is unmarred by even the slightest +hint of extraneous awareness +and unaccompanied by the +usual continual subliminal blur +which is the mark of the receptorman's +frantic deletion of +the actor's sublevel, irrelevant +thoughts. Either Mr. Rowe is +fortunate to be blessed with a +most superiorly skilled receptorman +or he is gifted with an awesome +ability to submerge his +total being in the role he plays. +In this feelie it is as if Mr. +Rowe, the actor, dies and imparts +only his life force to the +character of the cocky youngster +who comes fully alive without +the slightest trace of the personality +of Jason Rowe. In this +debut performance young Rowe +achieves the hitherto unattainable +goal of completely displacing +the feeliegoer's identity +with that of the character he +portrays. We expect great things +from him for a talent such as +his illumines the theater but +once in a millennium. Thanks to +Mr. Jason Rowe, the U-Live-It +Corporation can now completely +guarantee the promise of its +name." Herschell dropped the +newspaper on the desk. "How do +you like that, Cy?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"I like it so well, I surrender," +Lemson said with a pleased +smile. "You were right all along +in pushing him so we'll put him +in 'Land' as you want and I'll at +last have you off my back."</p> + +<p>"Y'know, Cy, Lorancelli is +wrong about the receptorman."</p> + +<p>"He didn't exactly say—"</p> + +<p>"Oh Zack is the best there is," +Herschell interrupted, "but right +after we started recording the +Rowe feelie he came in all shook +up to see me. Said the Rowe +stuff was recording as if he was +actually living the part. There +were no extraneous sublevels at +all and that's just never happened +before. It's like Lorancelli +says about Rowe dying and +the character coming to life. +Zack swears that Rowe just disappears. +There isn't a speck of +him that shows on the strip."</p> + +<p>"Then Zack should be happy, +not having to over-engineer the +recording."</p> + +<p>"Oh now, it isn't all breeze. +There's highlighting and emphasizing +selected perceptics and +such. You know Zack's the difference +between the artist +and the photographer. Actually +Zack's real difficulty is the +battle he has to keep from getting +completely sucked in to +Rowe's portrayal while he's recording. +Don't misunderstand. +He's not complaining. In fact +when I suggested relieving him +if the strain was too much he +said if he couldn't do Rowe's +feelies I could relieve him from +the payroll. It's that much of a +challenge for him. So much so, +he's designed a new receptor +adaptor to prevent Rowe's potency +from overpowering him."</p> + +<p>"Will there be any trouble in +making 'Land'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Herschell said bleakly +as Lemson prepared to hear the +worst, "we need horses. In this +atom age I'd like to know where +I'm going to get a couple of divisions +of cavalry."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Why you can't even see +where they put it," Robina said, +fingering Jason's skull. "Oh, +wait, Ah feel a little hard lump +right here. Ah'm right ain't Ah? +That's the relay."</p> + +<p>"No it ain't," Jason said +laughing. "Got that fallin' off a +horse yesterday."</p> + +<p>"But why do you have to have +one at all? Ah thought you could +project without it."</p> + +<p>"Well Ah can, but this makes +it better. This picks up all the +tiny waves from mah brain that +wouldn't otherwise get recorded. +Like the difference between super +high-fi an' ordinary high-fi. +It makes the feelie more real."</p> + +<p>"When are you goin' to be in +somethin' else besides westerns? +Ain't you ever goin' to get to do +some romancin'?"</p> + +<p>"Now don't you go lookin' at +the wrong end of the hog, Robee. +They been keepin' our bellies +filled. Besides this one Ah'm +doin' now ain't no western."</p> + +<p>"Then what's all them horses +over there for?"</p> + +<p>"Confederate cavalry, you +melon head. What you think this +uniform is Ah'm wearin'? Fine +southern daughter you are!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a civil war feelie! What's +it called?"</p> + +<p>"... uh ... A Stillness in the +Land." Jason smiled, "An' it +sure would make Mr. Lemson +happy to know Ah remembered +the title. They say it was a big +best seller book. Goin' to cost +ten million dollars. Ah play the +lead; Jed Carter, young southern +fella. Lots of love an' battles +an' the best thing is Ah don't +have to fret about mah accent." +Jason took his sister's arm. +"C'mon now if you want to see +the set. Ah'll be havin' to go to +work in a few minutes."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>They passed by one of the receptors +and Jason stopped. +"Now here's the machine that +picks up an' records what Ah'm +thinkin' an' feelin'. The receptorman +wears this gizmo on his +head an' cuts in to what Ah'm +feelin' an' he fiddles them dials +an' switches an' amplifies weak +signals an' cuts down overpowerin' +ones an'—well, Ah don't +want to frazzle you with the +technical details; he jus' controls +the quality of the recordin'. He +cuts out stuff that don't belong +like if Ah should be kissin' the +gal an' somewhere under those +passionate thoughts Ah might +wonder when we're goin' to +knock off for lunch. Here, slip +this headset on an' Ah'll get +Zack to run it so you can feel +how it works."</p> + +<p>"Don't do anythin' strong," +Robina advised.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry. Jus' a peaceful +bit."</p> + +<p>Zack came over at Jason's call +and ran the receptor while Jason +went through a few quiet +lines with an extra.</p> + +<p>"Why it's funny, somehow," +Robina said after they removed +the headset. "It jus' didn't seem +very good. Ah've felt you better +without it, Jason."</p> + +<p>"You didn't get the full projection," +Zack explained. "You +see, Miss Rowe, the receptorman +has got to be alert. He can't just +relax and enjoy the scene and +become the actor like a paying +customer. He's got to work, +keeping the perceptics, the feelings +coming through in balance. +So there's a circuit, a part of +this machine that sort of shields +enough of the operator's mind +and keeps it from getting lost +in the story while it runs the +receptor and lets the other part +live the scene."</p> + +<p>"That sounds hard to do," +Robina said.</p> + +<p>"It takes training and special +conditioning but the point is nobody +connected with the production +of a feelie ever gets to feel +it in all its original depth as the +feeliegoer does. Rushes are run +at the lowest intensity so that +the producers and directors can +comment and plan changes as +the strips are run. Even with +projector intensity set high we +can't totally submerge in the +character's identity because that +specially conditioned part of our +minds won't submit."</p> + +<p>"Well, you're still lucky," Robina +said. "Ah'm a Sensitive +and Ah'm not allowed to go to +anythin' but silly old musicals +an' some comedies. Ah can't +even go to mah brother's feelies +what with all the shootin' an' +everythin'."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="smcapl">EVERYBODY TO THEIR PLACES. +RECORDING STARTS IN FIVE MINUTES.</span>" +The announcement boomed +throughout the vast set and a +population of extras began to +animate the streets with purposeful +activity.</p> + +<p>"Robee, honey, you'll have to +go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jay, can't Ah watch. Ah +won't fuss around."</p> + +<p>"'Tain't that. Nobody who +ain't in the feelie can be in sight +of any of the actors they're recordin'. +Why if Ah was to walk +down that street as Jed Carter +and suddenly see you standin' +over here in them men's +pants—"</p> + +<p>"These ain't men's pants!" +Robina said indignantly. "These +are ladies slacks."</p> + +<p>"Ah know that but Jed Carter +don't. All he knows is even a +hussy wouldn't strut around like +that. Tell you what. You go over +there to where it says, Mrs. +Hepple's Quality Boarding Home +an' you can peek out the parlor +window at the doin's. Ah guess +they had noseybodies then too. +Now get!"</p> + +<p>Jason turned and hurried +down the street, not bothering +to glance after Robina. She had +crossed the street and was passing +a saloon when the omnipresent +voice commanded her, "<span class="smcapl">GIRL +IN THE GREEN SLACKS GET OUT +OF SIGHT.</span>" She became so flustered +she dashed into the saloon +doorway.</p> + +<p>Jed Carter escorted the lady +from Nashville down the plank +sidewalk to her carriage. He was +furious at her casual gay chatter +mocking his churning desire +for her. His glance caught a +movement across the street and +suddenly he went rigid with +surprise and soft shock. A girl +had come out of the saloon and +the hussy was wearing men's +trousers. His shock increased +when he heard the delicate lady +from Nashville say, "Oh, damn, +who the hell is that?" and he +was further startled to see an +oddly dressed man wearing +some sort of metal apparatus on +his head follow the girl out of +the saloon, gesticulating angrily +at her.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcapl">CUT!</span>" the omnipresent voice +commanded and now Jed Carter +was utterly confused. The man +wearing the metal apparatus +crossed over to him and spoke. +"Jason, please. You know the +rules about visitors on the set. +No one allowed during recording. +Zack says we'll have to ask +your sister to leave."</p> + +<p>Jed Carter saw the townspeople +just standing around staring +in his direction. "What's goin' +on?" he said to the odd man. +"What are you talkin' about? +Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh," the man with the +headset exclaimed, "here we go +again." He made a signal with +his hand and another man came +running up. The man led Jason +up the steps of the hotel and +into the lobby with a promise +to explain everything. He sat +Jason in a chair. "Jason, Jason +Rowe, Jason Rowe," the man's +voice pulled at him. He kept repeating +the name.</p> + +<p>A minute later Zack came into +the lobby. "Jason!"</p> + +<p>"Hello Zack," Jason said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're back with us," +Zack said. He stared at Jason a +long moment. "One of these +days," he said with a wry grin, +"you're not going to make it."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Bob Herschell came out of the +magnificent crystal palace that +was U-Live-It's New York feelie +showcase and searched the garden +plaza. "Cy! I thought I'd +find you here wringing your +hands."</p> + +<p>"We should never have premiered +cold like this," Lemson +complained. "We should have at +least had one private running +for the reviewers. We wouldn't +be dangling like this."</p> + +<p>"Stop worrying, Cy. A first +night lets the critics get caught +up in the excitement. And even +if they go sick and thumb down +'Land' it won't stand against the +top power voodoo job the publicity +gang is saturating the +public with. And bigger than all +the critics is Jason Rowe. He's +filled six thousand couches in +there with the biggest voluntary +celebrity turnout for any +preem."</p> + +<p>"Jason Rowe," Lemson sighed, +rolling supplicating eyes +heavenward. "He jeopardized a +ten million dollar feelie; almost +gave <i>me</i> heart failure when he +had that heart attack."</p> + +<p>"Cy, for the sake of the studio +don't let people hear you say +that. It's not true! It wasn't a +heart attack. He just played the +death scene too fully. You know +how deep he goes into a role. +That's what makes him the +world's greatest actor."</p> + +<p>"I don't care what you call it," +Lemson said heatedly, "the guy's +heart <i>stopped</i> and it was only +because of Zack's alertness that +they got to him in time. He almost +died. I don't want to be +ghoulish about it, Bob, but the +studio's putting a lot of time, +money and sweat into making +that boy a star—"</p> + +<p>"Nobody's making him a +star," Herschell cut in, "he was +born one."</p> + +<p>Herschell had spoken with +such honest emphasis that Lemson +replied, greatly subdued, +"Okay, okay, but we have ourselves +a pretty shaky investment +if every time he dies in a feelie +he's liable to really go over the +edge."</p> + +<p>"Zack thinks he can work out +a receptor circuit to keep it +from happening again. Sort of +a subliminal survival monitor +that won't show on the strip."</p> + +<p>Lemson looked nervously at +the theater entrance. "They +should be coming out soon," he +muttered.</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes yet," Herschell +assured him.</p> + +<p>Inside the shining pleasure +dome, six thousand Jed Carters +lay dying on an afternoon hillside. +The war was gone to another +hill and he was alone now +with the grass wind and the +small summer sounds of the +earth. His pain was a soft ache +like a child's secret tears and +his life was slipping reluctantly +from him in a trickling red ribbon. +He heard the sweet sound +of a bird and the song of it +wrung his heart. There were so +many songs yet unheard, so +much soft laughter unborn, +so many caresses yet to be +shared; a lifetime of summers, +waiting, now never to be filled. +His heart cried at the thought +of them.</p> + +<p>The sun warmed him like a +great golden lover and filled him +with an ineffable sadness for +the bright days to come that +would never be his.</p> + +<p>And now at the last he +thought of her. His heart ached +for her, craving one more of +those lost mornings when he +had awakened in the dawn at +her sleeping side and with his +eyes happily loved her sweet +slumbering face, haloed by the +marvel of her wheat hair catching +the first glints of the new +sun.</p> + +<p>In a last languid movement +he turned on his back and opened +his eyes to the bright sky. He +felt her stir. Her arm brushed +him and the vibrancy of her being +sang through him. She +opened her eyes and her love +smiled out at him. The smile +brightened her face until it +spread across the sky and grew +brilliant like the sun. She reached +out for him. He sighed with +a great breath of quiet happiness +because she was the sun +smiling down at him and at last +he rose up and went to meet her.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"It's time they were coming +out," Herschell said. "Let's get +back."</p> + +<p>They entered the lobby, deserted +except for a scattering of +ushers, and waited.</p> + +<p>"Why aren't they coming +out?" Lemson asked, more of +the emptiness than of his companion. +"It's ten minutes since +the scheduled ending. Do you +suppose the projection's broken +down or maybe—"</p> + +<p>"Relax, Cy, you know these +preems. Always a bag full of delays, +starting with late VIP arrivals."</p> + +<p>"There've been no delays. +They started on time—"</p> + +<p>The sound of sirens spiralled +out of the night and whirled the +two men around to face the entrance. +Lights raced frantically +across the plaza as a dozen turbine +vehicles whined to a stop in +front. More were arriving. Medical +teams and squads of policemen +burst through the doors. +They ran past the slow float +shafts to the elevators.</p> + +<p>"What's happened?" Lemson +screamed. "What's going on?" +He tugged at a uniformed sleeve +but was thrust aside by the running +man.</p> + +<p>Herschell and Lemson followed, +half running, to the elevators. +Herschell shouted an +inquiry at a cluster of policemen +surging into one of the cars but +the nearest grim-visaged man +almost angrily waved them away +from the door as it closed in +their faces.</p> + +<p>"The manager's office!" Herschell +cried and they ran for a +private elevator. Seconds later +they dashed into the manager's +office.</p> + +<p>"He's not here," Lemson +wailed.</p> + +<p>Herschell snapped a switch on +the desk and a harried, shocked +face appeared on the viphone +screen. "Mr. Herschell! Mr. +Lemson!"</p> + +<p>"Pete!" Herschell exclaimed, +"why've we got the police and +medicos? An accident?"</p> + +<p>The man's lips quivered as he +spoke. "A lot of the patrons are +dead."</p> + +<p>"WHAT?!! How many?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know ... yet ... maybe +all," Pete said brokenly.</p> + +<p>"What in heaven's name happened?"</p> + +<p>"The death scene ... Rowe +killed them ..."</p> + +<p>"You're crazy!" Herschell +shouted. "It's impossible! The +projector's triggered to shut off +if the patron's in danger."</p> + +<p>"What everybody thought," +Pete said, "but the house doc +said something about the projectors +being keyed to extreme agitation; +racing pulse, increased +blood pressure. That didn't happen +here. The people weren't +alarmed. Nothing to trigger a +shutoff. Doc said the death was +... was ..." Pete turned away, +trying to hold back tears.</p> + +<p>Herschell kept himself from +shouting. "Was what?"</p> + +<p>"... was ... sweet ... beautiful +..." Pete's shoulders shook with +a spasm of sobs that muffled +some of his words, "... should +be ... here ... see it ... kids +too ... rows and rows of ... +people ... all smiling ..."</p> + +<p class="theend">THE END</p> + +<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Science Fiction Stories</i> September 1959. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Premiere, by Richard Sabia + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PREMIERE *** + +***** This file should be named 24865-h.htm or 24865-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/8/6/24865/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/24865-h/images/001.png b/24865-h/images/001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4eb1200 --- /dev/null +++ b/24865-h/images/001.png diff --git a/24865.txt b/24865.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cad6b34 --- /dev/null +++ b/24865.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1168 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Premiere, by Richard Sabia + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Premiere + +Author: Richard Sabia + +Release Date: March 18, 2008 [EBook #24865] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PREMIERE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + _The young actor was great.... + They didn't realize just how great + until the night of_ + + + THE + PREMIERE + + By RICHARD SABIA + + +Clamped to the contour couch, the young girl strained against the padded +steel grips and screamed. Again she writhed and screamed as she felt the +hideous touch of the monster snatching at her. She struggled frenziedly +through the muck of the swamp but the thing with the blood eyes +scrabbled faster on its rotten limbs. The thing seized her in its +obscene embrace. Raw terror tore another scream from her throat. Behind +her on the projector a needle slammed into the red zone. Beyond the +hundreds of long rows of couches a warning light flashed on the control +console of Mezzanine F and its persistent buzz snared the attention of +one of the ushers. He glanced at the light's location number and ran +along one of the aisles till he came to the girl. He saw that the +projector had shut off the feature feelie and was running the emergency +tranquil strip. She had stopped screaming but her breathing was still +agitated. He looked around at the rows of couches, nearly all occupied +but none of the other patrons seemed more frightened than they should +be. Some of the other ushers had halted on their rounds and were looking +quizzically across at him. He shrugged the question back at them, +removed the feelie permit from its clip on the girl's couch and checked +the permitted intensity level against the setting of the projector. They +matched. Still puzzled, he examined the other settings without +discovering any apparent cause for her fright-hysteria. The tranquil +strip ended and the machine shut itself off. The usher moved a switch +that released the pressure of the electrodes against the girl's head and +retracted them into the headset. Her eyes opened as he removed the +apparatus and folded back the clamps. + +"Feel all right, miss?" he inquired with a solicitous smile. + +She nodded, but her eyes still held echoes of alarm. + +"Better come down to the clinic," he said gently, assisting her from the +couch. + +She said nothing but allowed him to lead her along. They stepped into a +float shaft and drifted gently down past other floors of the theater +occupied by the myriad rows of feelie couches. When they reached what +was obviously an office level, the usher grasped a tug bar which pulled +them into a corridor opening. He brought her to the clinic and left her +with the doctor after explaining what had happened. + + * * * * * + +The doctor seated her alongside his desk. "How do you feel now?" + +She smiled weakly. "All right Ah guess," she said with a soft drawl. + +"Let's see," he said looking at her feelie permit, "you are Miss, ah, +Loretta Meenan, and, well, you are from Hammond, Louisiana." He looked +up at her and smiled. "May I ask how old you are Miss Meenan?" + +"Sixteen." + +"A very charming sixteen, I must say. Are you here with your family?" + +"Yes. Ma an' pa are at the convention. They let us come to the feelies." + +"Us?" + +"Mah older brother, Jason." + +"Oh? How old is he?" + +"Eighteen. But he's big, real man-lookin' an' folks who don't know +mistake him for past twenty." + +"What couch did he have?" + +"Next to mine on the left." + +The doctor consulted his notepad. "Ah, that would make it number, ah, +six thousand forty-two. We'll have one of the ushers bring him down." + +"Please don't," she said hastily. "Not 'till the feelie's over anyhow. +He'll have the furies with me if he misses the endin' on mah account." + +"All right," the doctor agreed amiably. "How are you enjoying your visit +to New York?" + +"Ah'm havin' a dazzlin' time." + +"Good. Do you go to the feelies at home?" The doctor saw her tense +forward from the curve of the chair. + +"Yes." + +"Enjoy them?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you ever been badly upset by horror feelies before?" + +"No, sir." + +The doctor was aware of the apprehension behind her guardedness. "Do you +have any idea why this one should have upset you so?" + +"No, sir, except maybe the excitement. Ah ain't never been much away +from home before but once to New Orleans." + +The doctor looked at her permit card again. "This isn't a very good +likeness of you." + +"It does reflect me poorly," she murmured. + +The doctor's smile evaporated from his suddenly stern face. "Perhaps +it's because this is not your picture and this is not your card." + +Her face went white. + +"What is your name?" + +"Robina Rowe." Her downcast eyes were locked on her fingers squirming in +her lap. + +"Who's Loretta Meenan?" + +"Mah girlfriend." + +"Why did you borrow her card?" + +She was close to tears. "Ah jus' had to go to this feelie. It's got mah +very favorite actor in it." + +"Evidently your card doesn't permit you to attend horror feelies." + +She nodded. + +"Why not? Nightmares?" + +She shook her head. + +"Don't tell me you have a bad heart!" + +She shook her head again. "Ah'm a Sensitive," she said bleakly. + + * * * * * + +In a sudden surge of anger the doctor half rose out of his chair and +leaned across the desk. "Why you little fool!" he roared. "You little +damn fool!" + +From the open doorway a shape hurtled across the desk at the doctor and +crashed with him to the floor. + +"Jason!" Robina shrieked. + +"Don't you talk to mah sister that way," Jason shouted as he pummelled +the doctor. "Ah'll kill you!" + +The usher who had guided Jason to the clinic dashed around the desk to +pull the boy from the doctor. Robina tried to help but in the tussle she +was knocked down, striking her head on a leg of the overturned chair. +Jason, hearing her cry of pain, leaped off the doctor to aid her. + + * * * * * + +"It's only a little bump," Jason said reassuringly as he cradled her in +his arms. + +The doctor got to his feet and glared at the tall, strikingly handsome +boy-man helping his sister to a chair. + +That done, Jason whirled to face the doctor. "Now listen here--" + +"Now you listen to me," the doctor shouted. He saw Jason gather himself +as if for another leap but Robina placed a restraining hand on his arm +and his fists slowly uncurled. "If you loved your sister as much as you +pretend to you wouldn't have helped her try to kill herself!" + +"What do you mean?" the boy said sullenly. + +"You know damn well what I mean," the doctor said. "You _know_ your +sister is a Sensitive. She experiences things with ten times the impact +of an ordinary person and her empathy threshold is so high a death scene +in a feelie could kill her! And if you don't know what some of the words +mean," the doctor said, noticing Jason's slight puzzlement, "you do know +what your sister is and the care that has to be taken." + +The guilt in Jason's abashed face agreed. + +Fired by his anger, the doctor raged on. "Why the devil do you think we +have laws concerning attendance permits? What do you think all that +testing by doctors and psychologists before a permit is issued is for? +You, you big ox, could be killed by fright too if the intensity level of +the projector was set higher than your psycho-profile rating." + +He saw his last words had lost the boy again. "In any case you know +better. Why did you allow your sister to endanger her life by letting +her illegally use another's permit? And of all things, a horror feelie!" + +"Ah didn't want to take her," Jason complained, "but she jus' fussed an' +fretted at me 'till Ah gave in." + +"Well you've both broken the law. Your parents will be notified and +you'll have to stay here until they come." The doctor buzzed and a guard +appeared. "Take these two to Mr. Lemson's office," he instructed him. + +The guard led them from the floating steel and crystal theater structure +of the U-Live-It Corporation complex to the executive wing of the +general offices. He stayed with them until the receptionist at the +office suite of Vice President Cyrus W. Lemson ushered them inside. + +After having them seat themselves, Mr. Lemson stared at Jason in his +tight, crimson, dress dungarees and rhinestone speckled, black shirt +which accentuated his lithe, muscled body. _Eighteen or not_, he thought +in mild astonishment, _that handsome giant is no boy_. "The doctor +viphoned me about you," he said sternly. He spoke to them further about +the seriousness of what they had done and told them their parents were +on the way down. Then he took them into an interior office furnished +like a luxurious living room. "Please wait here," he said, "until your +people arrive. Magazines are there on the table and you may turn on the +television set." He closed the door. + +"Want me to turn on the television set?" Jason asked. + +"No, Ah don't much feel like it." + +They settled themselves on the enormous couch and Robina looked at her +brother. "Jason, Ah'm real sorry. Ah went an' stirred up a hornet's nest +of trouble for you again." + +"Don't fret about it, Robee. They won't really do nothin' serious. +They'll talk to Ma an' Pa an' Pa'll make like he's goin' to cuff us +aroun' when we get back to the hotel an' instead he'll jus' look dark +an' make us feel bad with his talk. It'll jus' be a lot of commotion +like a bee stuck in a tar bucket." + +"Ah guess," Robina said. She cast a sheepish glance at her brother. "Say +Jason, how did the feelie end up?" + +Jason was indignant. "Now listen, Robee, ain't you had enough? You heard +the doc say that last was like to kill you." + +"Please, Jason, there's nothin' wrong with you jus' _tellin'_ me." + +"It's almost as bad. You still get yourself all flittered up." + +"That's because nobody can tell a story like you do, the way you act it +out an' all." + +"Ah don't act it out. Ah jus' tell it." + +"Well _you_ might call it tellin' but everybody home says it's jus' like +a feelie when you do it. An' don't pretend you don't know it, brother +Jay, an' enjoy it too!" + + * * * * * + +Jason did not tell the ending of the feelie; he recreated it. He was the +monster slurching across the floor toward her, step by scraping step and +in spite of her fist on her mouth a tiny nervous scream escaped Robina. +Jason wanted to stop then but she badgered him into continuing. Now he +was the hero, Gregg Mason, battling the unspeakable fiend and she +shivered uncontrollably as she watched them struggle to the death. In a +last, desperate, superhuman effort, Gregg's hands clawed into the +monster's body and ripped out the foul, quivering heart of it. The +creature twisted to the ground and perished in its own slime. Gregg, +torn and bleeding and with shock-frozen eyes, turned and staggered into +the arms of Robina. + +"Oh, Gregg, Gregg," Robina cried in relief, the tears streaming down her +face. + +"It's okay, Joan," he said comforting her, "okay. It's all over now. +C'mon now, Joan, get out from behind those tears so you can see how much +Ah love you. Everything's all right." + +"Oh, Gregg!" A weak smile broke through. + +Gregg enfolded Joan in his arms and pressed his mouth against her eager +lips. + +"What are you two _doing_?!!" a shocked voice exclaimed from the open +door. + + * * * * * + +Gregg and Joan were blown away by the sound like spindrift before the +wind. Jason and Robina slowly came apart to see Mr. Lemson and another +man coming into the room. + +"What is the matter with you both?" Mr. Lemson spoke again. "Aren't you +in enough trouble now?" + +"Let me handle this, Cy," the other man said stepping forward. "I'm Bob +Herschell," he said smiling and radiating friendliness at the +youngsters. "Would you please tell me exactly what you were doing before +we came in here?" + +"Weren't doin' nothin'," Jason said belligerently. + +"Shades of the decadent South!" Lemson exclaimed. "Brother and sister +glued together and he calls it _nothin'_." + +"Ah wasn't kissin' her like you think," Jason said hotly. "Ah was +tellin' her a story." + +"What kind of a story?" Herschell asked excitedly. + +"Ah was tellin' her the end of the feelie we saw; Ah mean Ah saw. She +didn't get to see it." + +"You mean Terror From Mars?" Herschell asked. + +"Ah guess that's it. Ah don't recollect the title for certain." + +"Great!" Lemson said. "It often takes a week long conference to select a +feelie title and this typical American youth can't remember the name of +the feelie he lived less than a hour ago." + +"How were you telling it?" Herschell asked. + +"Ah jus' told it." + +"He storytells fine," Robina said proudly. "He sorta acts it out with +feelin' an' really makes it seem like it's happenin' to you right then +and there." + +Herschell turned to Lemson. "I'm sure he's the one, Cy. It fits. I've +got the spark of an idea and if it works then U-Live-It will be right on +top of the feelie heap." + +"We're already on top," Lemson said wearily. "U-Live-It is the biggest +producer of feelies and I think you're crazy, I think they're both +insane and I will be if you don't tell me what this is all about. You +come barging into my office--" + +"Sorry, Cy, but this thing happened so fast. I'm in my office right +below you. I've got Myra Shane doing a reading, trying to convince her +the part is perfect for her. But she isn't coming through on the +receptor. Instead I'm getting the climax of Terror From Mars. Zack is +receptorman and it takes him less than no time to check through and okay +our electronics. That means only one thing. Someone, somehow, is +blotting us with another projection. I call around and no one is running +a projector and no one is reading. Your girl tells me you have a couple +of kids up there so I come up to see. And I'm sure that big rebel is +the one! He has to be!" + +Lemson was alert with interest. "But he's not wearing a relay. How could +the receptor pick up and record his perceptics?" + +"He might have a surgical." Herschell inquired of Jason, "Did you ever +have an operation for the insertion of an encephalic booster relay! you +know, a thought relay?" + +"You mean them tiny transistor things that feelie actors have stuck in +their heads?" + +"That's it." + +"No, Ah never had nothin' like that," Jason said, baffled. + +"That's impossible," Lemson said, "no one can project with enough +natural power to imprint a receptor unless they've got a booster." + +"Well it's not impossible anymore," Herschell said gleefully. "Look Cy, +you squash this silly business about the permit. I want this fella to +make a receptor test as soon as possible. When his folks show up tell +them we might want to make a feelie star out of their son but don't +build it up or they'll be back with a regiment of lawyers and +contracts." + +"Bob, you're going off the deep end with this deal. So what if he can +project _au naturel_? Can he act?" + +"If you had been plugged into the receptor like I was a few minutes ago +and felt him, you wouldn't even ask." + +"What about that atrocious accent?" + +"Look, Cy, I'll abide by the receptor test. If he can't act; out! If +he's as terrific as I think he is we'll put him in westerns and civil +war feelies until we can train the accent out of him. Cy, if he doesn't +turn out to be the greatest thing that hit the feelie business I'll eat +my contract." + + * * * * * + +Five months later Herschell came beaming into Lemson's office and tossed +an open-folded newspaper at him. "Cy, did you read Lorancelli's review +of Rowe's oatburner?" + +"That's just great!" Lemson snapped. "We spend millions of advertising +and publicity dollars to convince people that we make _adult_ westerns +and you, a production vice president, go around calling them +_oatburners_." + +"Okay, Cy, but read the review. He rated the feelie so so but he raves +about Jason Rowe." + +Lemson picked up the paper and had it immediately snatched out of his +hands by an impatient Herschell who began reading snatches of it. +"Listen ... uh ... Jason Rowe is an intense young man whose magnificent +talent is wasted in the role of a young gunfighter in this bland +western ... uh ... he projects a sense of immediacy and aliveness +endless in its delicate ramifications of feeling. His characterization +is unmarred by even the slightest hint of extraneous awareness and +unaccompanied by the usual continual subliminal blur which is the mark +of the receptorman's frantic deletion of the actor's sublevel, +irrelevant thoughts. Either Mr. Rowe is fortunate to be blessed with a +most superiorly skilled receptorman or he is gifted with an awesome +ability to submerge his total being in the role he plays. In this feelie +it is as if Mr. Rowe, the actor, dies and imparts only his life force to +the character of the cocky youngster who comes fully alive without the +slightest trace of the personality of Jason Rowe. In this debut +performance young Rowe achieves the hitherto unattainable goal of +completely displacing the feeliegoer's identity with that of the +character he portrays. We expect great things from him for a talent such +as his illumines the theater but once in a millennium. Thanks to Mr. +Jason Rowe, the U-Live-It Corporation can now completely guarantee the +promise of its name." Herschell dropped the newspaper on the desk. "How +do you like that, Cy?" + + * * * * * + +"I like it so well, I surrender," Lemson said with a pleased smile. "You +were right all along in pushing him so we'll put him in 'Land' as you +want and I'll at last have you off my back." + +"Y'know, Cy, Lorancelli is wrong about the receptorman." + +"He didn't exactly say--" + +"Oh Zack is the best there is," Herschell interrupted, "but right after +we started recording the Rowe feelie he came in all shook up to see me. +Said the Rowe stuff was recording as if he was actually living the part. +There were no extraneous sublevels at all and that's just never happened +before. It's like Lorancelli says about Rowe dying and the character +coming to life. Zack swears that Rowe just disappears. There isn't a +speck of him that shows on the strip." + +"Then Zack should be happy, not having to over-engineer the recording." + +"Oh now, it isn't all breeze. There's highlighting and emphasizing +selected perceptics and such. You know Zack's the difference between the +artist and the photographer. Actually Zack's real difficulty is the +battle he has to keep from getting completely sucked in to Rowe's +portrayal while he's recording. Don't misunderstand. He's not +complaining. In fact when I suggested relieving him if the strain was +too much he said if he couldn't do Rowe's feelies I could relieve him +from the payroll. It's that much of a challenge for him. So much so, +he's designed a new receptor adaptor to prevent Rowe's potency from +overpowering him." + +"Will there be any trouble in making 'Land'?" + +"Yes," Herschell said bleakly as Lemson prepared to hear the worst, "we +need horses. In this atom age I'd like to know where I'm going to get a +couple of divisions of cavalry." + + * * * * * + +"Why you can't even see where they put it," Robina said, fingering +Jason's skull. "Oh, wait, Ah feel a little hard lump right here. Ah'm +right ain't Ah? That's the relay." + +"No it ain't," Jason said laughing. "Got that fallin' off a horse +yesterday." + +"But why do you have to have one at all? Ah thought you could project +without it." + +"Well Ah can, but this makes it better. This picks up all the tiny waves +from mah brain that wouldn't otherwise get recorded. Like the difference +between super high-fi an' ordinary high-fi. It makes the feelie more +real." + +"When are you goin' to be in somethin' else besides westerns? Ain't you +ever goin' to get to do some romancin'?" + +"Now don't you go lookin' at the wrong end of the hog, Robee. They been +keepin' our bellies filled. Besides this one Ah'm doin' now ain't no +western." + +"Then what's all them horses over there for?" + +"Confederate cavalry, you melon head. What you think this uniform is +Ah'm wearin'? Fine southern daughter you are!" + +"Oh, a civil war feelie! What's it called?" + +"... uh ... A Stillness in the Land." Jason smiled, "An' it sure would +make Mr. Lemson happy to know Ah remembered the title. They say it was a +big best seller book. Goin' to cost ten million dollars. Ah play the +lead; Jed Carter, young southern fella. Lots of love an' battles an' the +best thing is Ah don't have to fret about mah accent." Jason took his +sister's arm. "C'mon now if you want to see the set. Ah'll be havin' to +go to work in a few minutes." + + * * * * * + +They passed by one of the receptors and Jason stopped. "Now here's the +machine that picks up an' records what Ah'm thinkin' an' feelin'. The +receptorman wears this gizmo on his head an' cuts in to what Ah'm +feelin' an' he fiddles them dials an' switches an' amplifies weak +signals an' cuts down overpowerin' ones an'--well, Ah don't want to +frazzle you with the technical details; he jus' controls the quality of +the recordin'. He cuts out stuff that don't belong like if Ah should be +kissin' the gal an' somewhere under those passionate thoughts Ah might +wonder when we're goin' to knock off for lunch. Here, slip this headset +on an' Ah'll get Zack to run it so you can feel how it works." + +"Don't do anythin' strong," Robina advised. + +"Don't worry. Jus' a peaceful bit." + +Zack came over at Jason's call and ran the receptor while Jason went +through a few quiet lines with an extra. + +"Why it's funny, somehow," Robina said after they removed the headset. +"It jus' didn't seem very good. Ah've felt you better without it, +Jason." + +"You didn't get the full projection," Zack explained. "You see, Miss +Rowe, the receptorman has got to be alert. He can't just relax and enjoy +the scene and become the actor like a paying customer. He's got to work, +keeping the perceptics, the feelings coming through in balance. So +there's a circuit, a part of this machine that sort of shields enough of +the operator's mind and keeps it from getting lost in the story while it +runs the receptor and lets the other part live the scene." + +"That sounds hard to do," Robina said. + +"It takes training and special conditioning but the point is nobody +connected with the production of a feelie ever gets to feel it in all +its original depth as the feeliegoer does. Rushes are run at the lowest +intensity so that the producers and directors can comment and plan +changes as the strips are run. Even with projector intensity set high we +can't totally submerge in the character's identity because that +specially conditioned part of our minds won't submit." + +"Well, you're still lucky," Robina said. "Ah'm a Sensitive and Ah'm not +allowed to go to anythin' but silly old musicals an' some comedies. Ah +can't even go to mah brother's feelies what with all the shootin' an' +everythin'." + + * * * * * + +"EVERYBODY TO THEIR PLACES. RECORDING STARTS IN FIVE MINUTES." The +announcement boomed throughout the vast set and a population of extras +began to animate the streets with purposeful activity. + +"Robee, honey, you'll have to go." + +"Oh, Jay, can't Ah watch. Ah won't fuss around." + +"'Tain't that. Nobody who ain't in the feelie can be in sight of any of +the actors they're recordin'. Why if Ah was to walk down that street as +Jed Carter and suddenly see you standin' over here in them men's +pants--" + +"These ain't men's pants!" Robina said indignantly. "These are ladies +slacks." + +"Ah know that but Jed Carter don't. All he knows is even a hussy +wouldn't strut around like that. Tell you what. You go over there to +where it says, Mrs. Hepple's Quality Boarding Home an' you can peek out +the parlor window at the doin's. Ah guess they had noseybodies then too. +Now get!" + +Jason turned and hurried down the street, not bothering to glance after +Robina. She had crossed the street and was passing a saloon when the +omnipresent voice commanded her, "GIRL IN THE GREEN SLACKS GET OUT OF +SIGHT." She became so flustered she dashed into the saloon doorway. + +Jed Carter escorted the lady from Nashville down the plank sidewalk to +her carriage. He was furious at her casual gay chatter mocking his +churning desire for her. His glance caught a movement across the street +and suddenly he went rigid with surprise and soft shock. A girl had +come out of the saloon and the hussy was wearing men's trousers. His +shock increased when he heard the delicate lady from Nashville say, "Oh, +damn, who the hell is that?" and he was further startled to see an oddly +dressed man wearing some sort of metal apparatus on his head follow the +girl out of the saloon, gesticulating angrily at her. + +"CUT!" the omnipresent voice commanded and now Jed Carter was utterly +confused. The man wearing the metal apparatus crossed over to him and +spoke. "Jason, please. You know the rules about visitors on the set. No +one allowed during recording. Zack says we'll have to ask your sister to +leave." + +Jed Carter saw the townspeople just standing around staring in his +direction. "What's goin' on?" he said to the odd man. "What are you +talkin' about? Who are you?" + +"Oh, oh," the man with the headset exclaimed, "here we go again." He +made a signal with his hand and another man came running up. The man led +Jason up the steps of the hotel and into the lobby with a promise to +explain everything. He sat Jason in a chair. "Jason, Jason Rowe, Jason +Rowe," the man's voice pulled at him. He kept repeating the name. + +A minute later Zack came into the lobby. "Jason!" + +"Hello Zack," Jason said. + +"Oh, you're back with us," Zack said. He stared at Jason a long moment. +"One of these days," he said with a wry grin, "you're not going to make +it." + + * * * * * + +Bob Herschell came out of the magnificent crystal palace that was +U-Live-It's New York feelie showcase and searched the garden plaza. "Cy! +I thought I'd find you here wringing your hands." + +"We should never have premiered cold like this," Lemson complained. "We +should have at least had one private running for the reviewers. We +wouldn't be dangling like this." + +"Stop worrying, Cy. A first night lets the critics get caught up in the +excitement. And even if they go sick and thumb down 'Land' it won't +stand against the top power voodoo job the publicity gang is saturating +the public with. And bigger than all the critics is Jason Rowe. He's +filled six thousand couches in there with the biggest voluntary +celebrity turnout for any preem." + +"Jason Rowe," Lemson sighed, rolling supplicating eyes heavenward. "He +jeopardized a ten million dollar feelie; almost gave _me_ heart failure +when he had that heart attack." + +"Cy, for the sake of the studio don't let people hear you say that. It's +not true! It wasn't a heart attack. He just played the death scene too +fully. You know how deep he goes into a role. That's what makes him the +world's greatest actor." + +"I don't care what you call it," Lemson said heatedly, "the guy's heart +_stopped_ and it was only because of Zack's alertness that they got to +him in time. He almost died. I don't want to be ghoulish about it, Bob, +but the studio's putting a lot of time, money and sweat into making that +boy a star--" + +"Nobody's making him a star," Herschell cut in, "he was born one." + +Herschell had spoken with such honest emphasis that Lemson replied, +greatly subdued, "Okay, okay, but we have ourselves a pretty shaky +investment if every time he dies in a feelie he's liable to really go +over the edge." + +"Zack thinks he can work out a receptor circuit to keep it from +happening again. Sort of a subliminal survival monitor that won't show +on the strip." + +Lemson looked nervously at the theater entrance. "They should be coming +out soon," he muttered. + +"Ten minutes yet," Herschell assured him. + +Inside the shining pleasure dome, six thousand Jed Carters lay dying on +an afternoon hillside. The war was gone to another hill and he was alone +now with the grass wind and the small summer sounds of the earth. His +pain was a soft ache like a child's secret tears and his life was +slipping reluctantly from him in a trickling red ribbon. He heard the +sweet sound of a bird and the song of it wrung his heart. There were so +many songs yet unheard, so much soft laughter unborn, so many caresses +yet to be shared; a lifetime of summers, waiting, now never to be +filled. His heart cried at the thought of them. + +The sun warmed him like a great golden lover and filled him with an +ineffable sadness for the bright days to come that would never be his. + +And now at the last he thought of her. His heart ached for her, craving +one more of those lost mornings when he had awakened in the dawn at her +sleeping side and with his eyes happily loved her sweet slumbering face, +haloed by the marvel of her wheat hair catching the first glints of the +new sun. + +In a last languid movement he turned on his back and opened his eyes to +the bright sky. He felt her stir. Her arm brushed him and the vibrancy +of her being sang through him. She opened her eyes and her love smiled +out at him. The smile brightened her face until it spread across the sky +and grew brilliant like the sun. She reached out for him. He sighed with +a great breath of quiet happiness because she was the sun smiling down +at him and at last he rose up and went to meet her. + + * * * * * + +"It's time they were coming out," Herschell said. "Let's get back." + +They entered the lobby, deserted except for a scattering of ushers, and +waited. + +"Why aren't they coming out?" Lemson asked, more of the emptiness than +of his companion. "It's ten minutes since the scheduled ending. Do you +suppose the projection's broken down or maybe--" + +"Relax, Cy, you know these preems. Always a bag full of delays, starting +with late VIP arrivals." + +"There've been no delays. They started on time--" + +The sound of sirens spiralled out of the night and whirled the two men +around to face the entrance. Lights raced frantically across the plaza +as a dozen turbine vehicles whined to a stop in front. More were +arriving. Medical teams and squads of policemen burst through the doors. +They ran past the slow float shafts to the elevators. + +"What's happened?" Lemson screamed. "What's going on?" He tugged at a +uniformed sleeve but was thrust aside by the running man. + +Herschell and Lemson followed, half running, to the elevators. Herschell +shouted an inquiry at a cluster of policemen surging into one of the +cars but the nearest grim-visaged man almost angrily waved them away +from the door as it closed in their faces. + +"The manager's office!" Herschell cried and they ran for a private +elevator. Seconds later they dashed into the manager's office. + +"He's not here," Lemson wailed. + +Herschell snapped a switch on the desk and a harried, shocked face +appeared on the viphone screen. "Mr. Herschell! Mr. Lemson!" + +"Pete!" Herschell exclaimed, "why've we got the police and medicos? An +accident?" + +The man's lips quivered as he spoke. "A lot of the patrons are dead." + +"WHAT?!! How many?" + +"Don't know ... yet ... maybe all," Pete said brokenly. + +"What in heaven's name happened?" + +"The death scene ... Rowe killed them ..." + +"You're crazy!" Herschell shouted. "It's impossible! The projector's +triggered to shut off if the patron's in danger." + +"What everybody thought," Pete said, "but the house doc said something +about the projectors being keyed to extreme agitation; racing pulse, +increased blood pressure. That didn't happen here. The people weren't +alarmed. Nothing to trigger a shutoff. Doc said the death was ... +was ..." Pete turned away, trying to hold back tears. + +Herschell kept himself from shouting. "Was what?" + +"... was ... sweet ... beautiful ..." Pete's shoulders shook with a spasm +of sobs that muffled some of his words, "... should be ... here ... see +it ... kids too ... rows and rows of ... people ... all smiling ..." + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ + September 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling + and typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Premiere, by Richard Sabia + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PREMIERE *** + +***** This file should be named 24865.txt or 24865.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/8/6/24865/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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