Max Headroom: 20 Minutes Into the Future
What Theora Found Out
Chapter One:
"I know they're lying," Edison said as he looked into his vidicam. "Get Bryce on the link. See if he can find out what they don't want us to know."
Theora turned to her secondary screen and was unsurprised to see Bryce already on it. The teenager seemed to have a knack for knowing when Edison needed him.
"I take it you heard?"
Bryce winced but shook it off quickly. "Yeah, I heard. He wants me to find out what the Artisan Brotherhood is trying to hide."
"Are you okay?" Theora asked.
Bryce was already typing at his keyboard and didn't answer her question.
"Give me a break," he said a moment later. "Tell Edison they're a smuggling ring. Their primary deal is introducing old currency into the fringes by stuffing it into prepacked bread dough. They literally hide 'dough' inside of dough."
"So if they're asked by a lie detector what they're carrying and they said 'just dough' it's not caught as a lie because it's technically true." Theora concluded. "But why introduce money into the fringes at all?"
Bryce winced again, this time biting his lower lip.
"To lower the value of the currency, I suppose," he suggested once he had recovered
"Excuse me, Edison," Theora said. "Max, take over for me for a minute. I have to check on something."
Max appeared on the screen as Theora crossed the Control Room to the elevator.
A short time later, she arrived at Bryce's studio.
"Bryce, what's wrong?" she asked, gently.
Bryce was sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking as if he were trying to stop himself from crying. It was clear he was in a great deal of pain as he sat there, slumped forward, with his head in his hands.
"It's nothing you can help me with, Theora," he told her. "It's just something I have to put up with. I just…"
"You just what, Bryce?"
"I wish I could just let go. Be done with it. But I can't…" he shook his head, regretfully. "People need me too much. Cheviot. Edison. There's too much to do. I just can't…"
Theora sat beside Bryce, stroking his hair until it suddenly slipped off.
A wig?
Theora looked at Bryce, noticing the small but noticeable bald patches in his hair.
A horrible thought crossed her mind, and she prayed it wasn't true.
"Cancer?" she asked him, fearing the answer.
"Fourth stage," Bryce told her. "I've been going for chemo to keep myself going. Without it, I would've been dead a month ago. I want to die, Theora. The pain is awful."
Theora handed the wig back to Bryce, who replaced it on his head.
"Why would you make yourself suffer so much?"
"Because people need me," Bryce explained.