Videodrome: Days of O'Blivion Read online

original test subject; the difference was when Barry did it, he delivered a performance and the audience smiled, enjoying the showmanship. Barry turned to the wings and gave Brian the signal to begin playback of the gallery tape.

  The film showed. The art critics in their black sweaters discussed the fertility statue.

  “Now can you tell me,” Barry asked as the film ended. “Was that film true or false?”

  “It was true,” he said.

  “Are you sure it was true?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Thank you.” Barry gestured for the man to leave the stage whilst simultaneously raising his hand to the audience to signal their moment for applause. Their clapping was hearty and genuine. “Now, who would like to go next?”

  A blonde woman raised her hand and was called to the stage as Mark Irwin walked back to his seat. His colleague, Ron Sanders, whispered his question, “Did you really think it was true?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because at the beginning he told you it was fake and you agreed to tell him it was fake.”

  Irwin puzzled over that for a few seconds. “Jesus. Yes, I remember saying that. I remember the conversation… What did I tell him?”

  “You told him it was true.”

  Down on the stage Barry began going through the same pitch with the blonde woman. This time his spiel was modified to include that, as she had seen it once already, she should have no problem telling him the film was fake.

  Irwin and Sanders watched as the woman viewed the documentary then told Barry in all earnestness that the programme was factual. Again the room lifted with applause. Sanders nudged Irwin and pointed to the door. “Do you not want to try it yourself, first?” Irwin asked.

  “No, we need to get this locked.”

  Sanders and Irwin cut across the empty lobby to a payphone. “Sir, this is Ron Sanders. We’re watching the Veraceo demonstration. I think you should inform Consec Leader that this is real. It can really do what they say it can do.”

  Irwin was scratching his head, still musing over how he could have been so fooled by the video. He watched Sanders talk on the phone whilst feeling a pleasant kindness of spirit come to his mood. He felt happy. Somehow generous. If he could find a vagrant he would give them money. Perhaps he should go looking for one.

  ----- X -----

  “Mister Conway,” Sanders called as the auditorium cleared. Irwin followed behind, still grinning broadly. “That was quite a demonstration. I’m Ron Sanders, from Bartok Science Industries.”

  “Oh, yes. You didn’t come on to the stage. I saw you leaving and thought you must not like what we’re working on.”

  “Quite the contrary, I left to call Home Base and pass on the news. Have you signed on with any VC's yet?”

  “Not yet,” Barry said. “But there is interest. It won’t take long.”

  Sanders nodded. “That’s what I figured and that’s why I called Home Base. Our founder and chairman, Oleksander Bartok is on his way here right now to speak with you and I was hoping you would stay on a little longer to meet with him.”

  Brian and Barry looked to one another.

  “Oleksander Bartok is coming now? Here?” Brian asked. “It’s ten o’clock at night.”

  “I appreciate that, but he’s on his way over to meet you. He should be here in about twenty minutes or so. Could you wait a little longer?”

  Barry tried not to look too enthusiastic. “We’ve still got to pack up our stuff so… sure, we could wait a little.”

  ----- X -----

  Brian was carrying the video recorder back out to the car. “I’ve suddenly got worries about security,” he said. “The lab has basic locks and a simple alarm. This sudden interest has me jittery.” He placed the video deck into the back of his car. Sanders and Irwin were watching them from across the parking lot. The night air was crisp and cool and their cars were the last at the conference centre.

  “Nothing we can do about it right now,” Barry said. “We can look at it tomorrow.”

  Brian looked at the video machine in the trunk of his car. He popped the top-loader and took the cassette. At the lab was the hardware, the Veraceo signal generator. That would take some time to disassemble, but the cassette contained a functioning signal that, perhaps, could be reverse engineered. Paranoia told him to not let it out of his sight.

  A car approached. A stretched Cadillac limousine. The driver opened the back door and out stepped a man who seemed to drip with success. The shoes, the tailored clothing, the monogrammed broach on the lapel, the perfect groomed light brown hair.

  Sanders made the introduction. “Mister Bartok, this is Barry Conway and his partner Brian Olivier.”

  “Brian, Barry, call me Oleks.”

  Handshakes were exchanged. “I’ve followed your work for some time,” Brian said. “It’s quite an honour to meet you.”

  “Thank you,” Bartok looked around him. “The parking lot is an odd place for an impromptu meeting, if you wish, we can sit inside.” He motioned to the car. They got in.

  Barry had a glow to him, like a kid in a candy store. “I’ve always wanted a car like this.” He traced his finger along the edge of the bar. He touched the small TV screen and the leather upholstery as if touching these things made them more real.

  “When you travel as much as I do,” Bartok said, “it’s not about luxury, it’s about having the ability to work on the move. I probably spend more time in here than Home Base. Would you like a drink?” he motioned to the bar. Barry and Brian indicated they were fine. “I understand you men are looking for one and a half million dollars, yes?”

  “Yes,” Barry answered.

  “What do you want the money for? What will it be spent on?”

  This time Brian answered. “We need research and development funds to discover the scope and limitations of Veraceo. We need extensive testing on human subjects as well as closed broadcasting. Long range cable, terrestrial and satellite transmissions. The focus is to bring the product to market but we don’t yet know what it can and can’t do.”

  Bartok lifted a briefcase onto the seat beside him. He opened it and passed copies of a contract to both Brian and Barry. It was short. The small print was minimal. “I have four hundred thousand dollars with me as cash.” He showed the briefcase. Money, in stacks, in a case, like a movie drug-dealer. “I’d like to give this to you now as a lockout.”

  Brian couldn’t read the contract for looking at the money. Barry was focussed on the document. Ignoring the cash.

  “What the contract says,” Bartok added, “is that you agree to allow the parent company of BSI first refusal on becoming your partner and provider of capital support.”

  “You have a parent company?” Barry asked.

  "Consec. It’s short for Continental Security. They’re not really in the public consciousness so I would be surprised if you’d heard of them. Consec are offering you this money to lockout any other suitors for the next thirty days. In that time they will do the diligence and if all is good they’ll make you an offer. The money is yours to keep regardless of whether they extend an offer or not, the only stipulation is you don’t speak to other financiers for the coming month.”

  Barry was still going through the contract, reading it back from the beginning. “This looks good. Too good, it’s all in our favour. I’m just kind of worried about dealing with a company I’ve never heard of, in a quick cash deal, made in a parking lot in the middle of the night.”

  Bartok grinned. “A week from now, Barry, you will be part of the new world. Believe me when I tell you that my introduction to Consec was more unusual than a meeting in a parking lot. But also believe that everything I have today is the result of becoming a Consec partner. Partnership brings virtually limitless opportunities and resources. Joining Consec was the greatest thing to ever happen in my life and right now they’re offering you four hundred thousand just to prove how serious they are. In thirty days, if you don’t like their offer you are free
to keep the money and seek another partner. But I promise you, once you see what Consec can offer, you won’t need another partner.”

  ----- X -----

  They were picked up by limo four days later. Once on the road the driver’s voice came through a speaker. “Gentlemen, I’m taking you to a helicopter transfer that will forward you on your journey to Consec. If you would direct your attention to the screen, Consec Leader has recorded a short message for you.”

  On the in-car TV screen, an animated logo played of three interlocking shapes coming together above the word Consec. An older man appeared. Silver haired and blue eyed. He sported a neatly trimmed silver beard and sat at a desk behind which was a pure white background. He was perhaps in his sixties or even maybe his seventies, but he looked like he kept himself fit and trim.

  The man in the TV spoke. “Mister Conway, Mister Olivier, my name is Consec Leader and I’d like to introduce you to the concept and principles of our organisation. We’re a parent company that assists high-end and cutting-edge science projects and businesses that are of benefit to North America. We have a great many partners, some of which are household names, yet the umbrella of Consec is not known to the public. Our role is low-profile to an almost invisible level, but the companies, entities and people we invest in, we do so because we believe they have something that will take North America into the future. I’ve talked with Oleksander Bartok who spoke very highly of you both and