"Scopitones, you say?"

Though skeptical, Edward Blackbell listened to his guest animatedly pitch his idea with all the excitement of a child on Christmas. He wasn't the first to do so, and nor would he be the last. Yet as Edward and the gentleman sat on the Blackbell courtyard terrace and sipped frosty glasses of Gin on that mid-August afternoon, the beleaguered businessman reminded himself that he had only himself to "blame".

With tensions cooled thanks to the efforts of Col. Erik Zacharis, Edward Blackbell saw his chance to not only turn the silver spoon platinum but also ensure that Blackbell Heavy Industries needn't go down the tubes should the shaky truce between Ostania and Westalis blossom into lasting amity. As such, he looked to shift production towards mass producing items once thought of as luxuries for the utilization of the common consumer. Yet while televisions, refrigerators, air conditioners, kitchen appliances, and the like appeared to be worthwhile endeavors, there would be some that every now and a blue moon would come off as far too outlandish.

And video jukeboxes sounded seemed way beyond out there for his liking.

But before he could render his final assessment of the opportunity, an anguished scream shattered the otherwise Edenic scene. In the name of presenting himself as a family man, Edward extended the invitation to the man's wife and three children where they would spend the day playing with his daughter Rebecca, or as she was affectionately known-

"Becky. Becky. Becky." The Blackbell Patriarch said cupping his forehead in frustration.

Like many families of means, Edward and Patrice Blackbell and the lifestyle they lead meant that parental love/responsibilities often fell to the wayside, and into the all to eager arms of a hired governess. From their spot at the outdoor table, both fathers watched as the calm but nonetheless stern au pair got to work to restore order.

"Becky's the meanest girl in the whole wide world!" The client's daughter shouted accusingly. "She's always saying mean things! She's just a big ol' bully!"

"Oh Yeah!?" She retorted with rage as Martha held her back. "I'm just calling you a brat because that's what you are!"

"That's quite enough young lady!" She said in a firm yet fatigued voice.

Naturally, with his children in tears, whatever offer Edward's guest had for him was off the table as he shuffled off the Blackbell estate and to his limo with his wife to console their aggrieved offspring.

(Later that night)

"Burning the midnight oil Mr. Blackbell?"

Edward looked up to see Martha holding out two mugs of cocoa. While most of the staff would referring to their employer as anything less than 'sir' and announce their arrival with a short knock, (and MOST DEFINITELY WOULD NOT make any attempt at prying into his professional/personal affairs in an attempt at small talk) Martha was a whole other ballgame. Being the sole survivor of the Women's Auxillary Corp allowed her some level of equal footing with the man who signs her paycheck. Nonetheless, she still knew where she stood in the grand scheme of things.

"Thank you, Martha." He says reaching out for the second mug before turning back to the stack of papers on his desk. Though satisfied by the cocoa-flavored elixir as it passes from the mug and into his mouth, Edward's brow remained furrowed by the events earlier that day.

"Martha…be honest. Do you think Patrice and I are spoiling Becky?"

With an inquisitive grunt, the wizened but formidable caretaker seats herself in one of the little chairs at the other end of his desk and offers an open ear to the Blackbell Patriarch's present plight.

"She definitely gets more than she should." Martha began slowly. "But it's natural for any parent to want to give their child the world. Especially parents who've known the hardships of war."

"And I'm really trying to balance it out!" Edward said exasperatedly. "Just before you got here, I just got done cancelling that cameo on Berlint in Love, the one where they needed a kid for some walk on role. Ugh! And I moved heaven and earth to get that for her too."

"Mhm." Martha said. "And that's a good first step."

"Well, my dad was always fond of the belt. And I told myself that was never going to fly when it came to me and my kids." Edward said more defensively than he meant to. "Sorry…it just."

"I understand."

"I know I work and Patrice carries all the social obligations that comes with being the wife of a titan of industry…but I…I want her to know that past all of… (Edward waves his arm around his office and grunts) …that we're just like everybody else. Flesh and blood."

"Well, she's young yet." Martha said. "There's still plenty of time for her to be taught…(she sips her cocoa)…Mm! Isn't she going to be going off to school next year?"

"Yeah. That's my other big worry. Where Patrice and I are going to enroll her with nursery school being finished."

Edward pulls out a stack of pamphlets each of which advertising schools throughout Ostania more prestigious than the last. One however seems to catch the seasoned caretaker's eye and cause her to break out into a warm almost nostalgic smile.

Pointless Trivia Time: The forerunner of music videos, Scopitones were video jukeboxes that briefly appeared after WWII and featured a 16mm color film performance played on a 26-inch screen. Videos for these devices often employed the use of eye-popping colors, wild scenery and wilder enthusiastic girls dancing the Twist, usually in bikinis, in the backgrounds as the singers performed in the craziest of places- on trains, in the woods, in cars, on carnival rides. Their decline in popularity came from several factors, many of which stemmed from not appealing to the emerging "teen" consumer. The last official Scopitone film was released in 1978.