III Meditations #3
“And your school?” “I’m taking English and science fiction and science classes to be a real-life mad scientist,” Walter said. ”I think it sounds very much like something that I would do.”
“Walter the mad scientist,” Rose said. “That sounds wonderful. Any reading?”
“Yeah,” Walter said. “I read The Three-Body Problem. Boy, that was different than the show.”
“In a bad way?” Rose asked.
“No. Both were good in different ways. Aliens come into contact with us, decide we are terrible, negotiations commence. It’s more complicated than that, but still. It’s a neat idea. A benevolent race might find us monstrous.”
“I agree,” Rose said.
“And the most important thing in existence?” Rose asked.
“Our Chicago Bears had an excellent draft and will play in the fall. They once again picked the best available player instead of reaching at a certain position because they have a need at that position.”
“Did you ever do something wrong, Walter?” Rose asked.
“No,” Walter said. “But what if one of my friends is a killer?”
“I don’t know,” Rose said. “I don’t know what to say. That would be terrible. You just have to hope and trust them.”
“What if I don’t?” Walter said.
Meanwhile, Beatrice was doing something rational, reasonable, and perfectly human - she was stalking and following her boyfriend. She wanted to know what he did all the time.
Ghostkin walked out of school a period early. She watched him from school - watched him walk away.
“How do I spy on my boyfriend, Alexis?” Beatrice asked.
Beatrice wore a black dress - to mourn her dad and because it looked killer, and she wanted to look killer. She had a bit of goth makeup applied to her face that made her look iconic, pale, and fantastic. She hated herself a little bit for becoming the attractive little goth girl but did it anyway.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Alexis said. “Spy on his phone’s GPS. Pretend to be his parents and say that you need to know where he is.”
“I have no idea how to do that,” Beatrice said.
“I’ll do it,” Alexis said. “Spying on boyfriends is fun and educational. I’ll spy on him for you. I’ll see what he’s doing. I also give my boyfriend demands.”
“Maybe I should just ask him where he goes,” Beatrice said.
“That would be terrible,” Alexis said. “He might lie. Boyfriends and girlfriends lie to each other. They don’t want to hurt each other. It’s just how people act.”
“I’m doing it,” Beatrice said. She texted Ghostkin and asked him what he was doing with his time when he wandered off regularly.
Ghostkin texted back: it’s really cool I’d love to show you and include you
Beatrice: where are u?
Ghostkin: I’m at a series of office buildings at Dove and Arrow
Beatrice: on my way
Alexis had just helped Beatrice - who had left to talk to her boyfriend.
Alexis had a moment to herself to reflect upon her day and her life.
It was shit.
Self-hate. Alexis walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
She hated her body - no matter how perfect people found it.
She hated her mind - despite the straight-A’s.
She looked at herself and felt disgusted.
No one hired her to be in a Hollywood movie anymore. Her career was over at seventeen.
Producers at auditions weren’t even interested in giving her a chance.
She didn’t let Dad just give her a part, and therefore she didn’t get a part anymore.
Would she never make it in Hollywood? Would she be a failure? She was a brilliant actor, writer, and director. She could do everything better than ninety-nine percent of the actors and the writers and the directors. Would anyone ever realize that?
After school.
Jalon, Alexis, Ai, and Walter gathered at the library with Macmillan.
Alexis wore her cheerleader’s uniform for New Liberty High School.
She sat down, put down her backpack, and got out her laptop.
They gathered in a conference room that Macmillan had reserved at the library where his mom worked.
Ai sat down and plugged her laptop into the wall to charge it, and then started to go over lines.
Jalon sat down, mostly collapsing into his chair.
Macmillan walked into the room and sat down.
“We’re going over my story,” Macmillan said.
“This one isn’t a screenplay, and I noticed that first: that you have description and character bios and get into the head of the character Lexie, which is excellent,” Alexis said.
“She is a rebel child who fights back and refuses to follow along with the firing of a qualified teacher. That’s a nice scene. ”
“Lexie kills a rapist who wants to rape her,” Ai said. “Maybe some subtlety, Macmillan. Less splashy. Less crass. Someone relatable. A villain we can understand.”
“Jesus, there are rapists without any good characteristics all over reality, and I can’t have one in my fiction? I poured my heart and soul into this,” Macmillan said.
“I understand that,” Ai said. “And yet you need better characters. This isn’t about passion. Your passion is fine. Your craft needs work.”
“My craft?” Macmillan asked.
“Your craft,” Ai said. “You need likable characters.”
“I get that,” Macmillan said. “They are engines for the symbolism and irony. That is what they are.”
“But the symbolism and irony will only work if there are relatable characters and an interesting surface story at the same time,” Ai said.
“Really?” Macmillan asked.
“I’m in agreement with Macmillan,” Jalon said. “Why? Why make this into a conventional story with likable characters fighting a bad, bad man with a laser beam coming down from the sky?”