"So, how is this?" A few keystrokes and her face covered all sixteen monitors of the control room.

Smiling, arms crossed loosely, body positioned away from camera. Dark grey blazer, dark grey shirt, dark grey skirt, red lipstick, straightened hair. Light blue background, globes, dollar signs, money. Black text: Financial Hour. Beneath it, red text, bold: Sloan Sabbith.

Suddenly she felt very uncool as her palms began to moisten. The light blue of the screens illuminated her face - pained, grimacing, squinting through her glasses. She cocked her head, shifting her gaze from screen to screen. Each confirmed the same as the previous. Each minted her as a journalist.

"Are we really going with 'Sloan Sabbith'?" she sighed, mocking her own name. As if the alliteration and the almost sing-song stress pattern did not tease enough. "I have two PhDs. If anything it should be 'Dr Dr Sabbith'."

A snarky voice came from behind, "how else would we know you're better educated than Dr Phil." Don Keefer pushed past the newly appointed financial anchor, dropping his notes onto the already crowded desk at the front of the room. He reached past the Financial Hour executive producer, flicking a switch and instantaneously images of Sloan were replaced by the dim studio.

"Joey, can we get the lights up?" ordered Don. He distractedly paged through his notes before slipping his headset over his head and around his neck. "And do we have the graphics for the iPhone leak?"

He stared blankly up at the monitors. Slowly the studio became light. First the screens either side of the anchor desk lit up. With a graphic similar to Sloan's, except the words read 'New Night with Will McAvoy'. Except he was not smiling. He didn't have to. Unlike Sloan, he was a trusted veteran news anchor. He was pensively gazing away from the camera. A trusted man, a thoughtful man, the people's man.

An intern cleared the anchor desk of coffee mugs and newspapers. Finally, the anchor's chair was brightened. Empty.

"Where's Will?" Don paused looking to the control room operators at his sides, daring someone to answer before brashly pushing through the glass doors at the back of the room.

"Maggie, where's Will?"

Forgetting she was tethered to the phone on her desk by a headset, Maggie tried getting up but fell miserably back into her chair. Awkwardly, she scrambled to unknot the cords and speaker from her hair and nervously walked over to Don. "He's in a meeting," she finally, breathlessly confessed.

"A meeting?" replied Don incredulously. "He realises that he is supposed to be on the air in seven minutes. He wasn't even in the rundown this afternoon."

Maggie tried to reply, her mouth starting to form certain shapes but failing to produce any words. "I'm… I'm sure he knows."

"Don!" yelled Will, walking in to the newsroom, casually and slowly. Meandering through the cluttered desks, he smiled, hands in his pockets.

"Where have you been all afternoon?"

"With Reese, breaking down the numbers. We're doing great things, Don."

"That's great, Will. We can deal with that later. There's a show you need to anchor in five minutes."

Don turned quickly, striding into the hallway to the control room. Will followed him, yawning loudly. Behind him, Maggie jogged trying to discretely pass Will his earpiece but failing to get his attention.

"I'm really looking forward to the Northwestern debate with Sharon and Lewis. If it all goes well we could see a real boost in the numbers."

"Really, Will, fan-tastic. But you need to get in that studio now."

"I'm America's favourite news anchor, Don. I think the people would forgive me for coming on air a few seconds late."

"Unfortunately it is my job that you are on air at the right time."

"Surely that would be my assistant's job, Maria. Have you met her?" He turned to the short blonde girl trailing him and gave her a blank smile.

"Margaret," corrected Maggie, her happy expression almost breaking.

"Oh," he shrugged, swiftly taking his earpiece from her and sliding it into his ear. He pushed through the heavy studio doors as Don shouted behind him:

"Will, remember we've switched the order of the segment on the UK elections with the segment on pregnancy over the age of 50."

"Of course Don, I'm a newsman, this is what I do."

Sitting at his chair, he looked into the darkness hiding the cameras and cameramen in front of him. Taking a final deep breath as the countdown began in his ear.

"In three, two, one…"

The red light of camera one flickered on. Will paused. He locked eyes with the camera.

"Hello America."