Funscreen, Page 2

  The girls walked away and virtual Danny winked outwards from the screen. It was beyond creepy watching his virtual self trying to sell him a product, and, though he would never admit it, this incessant chipping away at his confidence was why Danny didn't like watching ads.

  "I don't even know why you let that thing in our house," he growled at Roger. "All it does is spy on us and try to sell us crap we don't need."

  Lydia's eyes encouragedRoger to provide a real answer to Danny's complaint. Sophie offered a similar expression.

  "We need the money," Roger said. "But if I win this quiz, I'll cash-in the credit and get rid of the Funscreen. That's a promise."

  The kitchen door was open. Roger's Funscreen was listening.

  ~

  Sophie and Danny went back upstairs after dinner, leaving Roger and Lydia alone in the kitchen.

  "When is the quiz?" Lydia asked him.

  "Eight."

  "Are you watching anything before then?"

  "I was going to look over last week's questions. I have enough credits to buy access to two previous weeks since they gifted me the ticket, but I think I'll just focus really hard on last week. Why, did you want to watch something?"

  "I thought maybe we could watch the end of that movie we started last night," Lydia said. "The one with the vampires. We've only got a tiny bit of it left to see."

  Roger nodded. He had spent 20 credits on two tickets for Lair of Fangs so figured they might as well watch the end. Some mental downtime might be just what he needed before the big quiz. After a few minutes of mind-numbing exposition, Danny entered the room.

  "Unauthorised viewer detected," said the Funscreen. "Hello, Danny. Do you wish to purchase a ticket for Lair of Fangs? Your account will be debited 10 FunFare credits per additional ticket."

  Danny ignored the Funscreen. "I'm going to meet someone," he told his parents.

  "Ooh, is it a girl?" asked Roger. "Don't tell me you finally found a girlfriend?"

  "It's just Kevin, alright? Why are you such an asshole?"

  "Geez. You kiss Kevin with that mouth?" Roger quipped. Danny slammed the door and left without another word. "I was only messing with him," Roger said, addressing Lydia's frown.

  She said nothing and gestured for the Funscreen to resume Lair of Fangs. The movie ended without Roger really noticing, at which point the Funscreen made its usual offer of 10 credits if they agreed to review products of potential interest.

  Product placement had been a major income-generator for production studios since the Funscreen debuted. The technology enabled studios to tell exactly which area of the screen each user was focusing on at any given moment. If a viewer's eyes settled on a particular piece of furniture, for example, the Funscreen would offer them the chance to purchase it and the studio would take a commission.

  Following Lair of Fangs, four items appeared on the screen: two goblets, a silver platter, and a red bra. Lydia called up the information on each in turn. She had always liked goblets and the platter was delightful, but such things were far out of her reach and would remain so unless Roger succeeded in his quest to win the quiz. The red bra, however, might be worth a look.

  Lydia couldn't remember which part of the movie the garment had featured in, so she asked the Funscreen. "Funscreen: deliver tracking breakdown," she ordered, making an unnecessary effort to enunciate her words. Roger shuffled in his seat as the Funscreen prepared the requested data.

  The bra had appeared in an innocuous scene near the start of the movie which involved the once-bitten-forever-smitten protagonist wandering longingly around her vast bedroom. During the tracking breakdown, a marker appeared on the screen for each viewer. Roger's gaze was represented by a red dot and Lydia's by a blue one.

  As soon as the scene began to play, it was clear that one of their gazes had followed the buxom damsel's chest from one side of the screen to the other, settling as soon as she did and staying put until the camera cut away. The offending dot was red. Red for Roger.

  "Care to explain yourself?" Lydia said.

  Roger didn't. There was no way around it; his eyes had lingered.

  Lydia stood up and headed for the front door. "You're a pig," she snapped. "A pig."

  Her exit was too quick for Roger to ask where she was going, but he knew from experience that she would make the short walk to her sister's house and proceed to tell anyone who would listen how terrible a mistake she had made in marrying him.

  Roger exited the tracking breakdown. Right on cue, the Funscreen spoke up. "Our good friends at Everstrong Marriage Counselling would love to help you reconnect with Lydia, Roger. You will receive..."

  He rejected the all-too-familiar placement before the Funscreen had time to make an offer. On another day Roger might have overlooked the Funscreen's judgemental streak and been tempted by the credits, or perhaps even the opportunity to save his marriage, but tonight he had more important things to worry about. The quiz wasn't going to win itself.

  8pm

  Roger studied the previous week's quiz questions with the focus of a monk. There seemed to be little pattern to the questions, which covered everything from basic geography to classic literature. Roger couldn't believe that there had been a question about some book called The Old Man and the Sea. Who had time to read books?

  Other questions involved things like the gestation period of a blue whale and the distance between the earth and the sun. Roger didn't know these things, but the multiple choice answers usually included only one reasonable option. He felt confident that he could do well.

  Thousands of others would be competing at the same time. Players began to accrue credits after answering seven introductory questions correctly, with an incorrect answer meaning instant elimination. An unlimited number of contestants could win the 10,000,000-credit jackpot each month, but no more than two had ever won it in the same quiz. Most players banked their earnings before the final question. 1,000,000 credits was a lot to risk.

  Safeguards were in place to prevent cheating. Funscreens watched their participating viewers carefully to ensure that none were using devices to find answers online, and participants were eliminated if anyone without an entry walked into their Funscreen's line of sight. One enterprising family had previously attempted to con their Funscreen by wearing dark glasses, ski masks, gloves, and sufficient padding to block their heartbeats from its prying eyes. This was supposed to enable them to scribble written answers to assist their official participant in the quiz. They were caught, of course, and footage of their failure was released to make an example of them. The image of a family dressed up as bank robbers in their own home was both laughably tragic and tragically laughable. Roger knew how strictly the rules were implemented, so if Lydia wasn't home before the quiz started he would have no option but to lock her out of the house.

  As if to prove this point, Danny entered through the front door two minutes later. He walked up to the Funscreen and looked closely at the screen.

  "Hello, Danny. Would you also like to participate in tonight's quiz? The cost of entry will be 4000 FunFare credits. Please connect with a Funscreen representative to discuss a credit extension."

  Danny giggled and turned to face Roger. "What are we eating tonight?"

  "We already ate three pizzas," Roger answered. There was something odd about Danny's expression, but he couldn't quite place what it was.

  Danny giggled again. "I mean, like, what are we eating tonight, tonight?"

  "I don't have time for this," Roger said. "Get out of my way. Go to your room and don't even think about coming downstairs. In fact, when you're up there, you can tell Sophie that I'm going to lock all of the doors."

  Danny walked slowly and deliberately towards the stairs, still giggling as he went. Four barely audible words left his mouth. They sounded something like "you won't win, anyway," but Roger was too busy to care.

  He reviewed past questions until two minutes before the scheduled start time. Right on time, the host walked onstage and
greeted all the players at home. 94% were eliminated in the quickfire round. Roger survived.

  His general knowledge was evidently superior to most people's, but for two of the seven questions he relied on his fall-back tactic. If he didn't know the answer, he always went for B.

  Roger required his fall-back again to earn his first prize of the night: 4,000 credits. After three further successful answers - one correctly identifying the gestation period of a panda - Roger was sitting pretty at 100,000 credits. This was serious money. His hand-to-mouth Funscreen account had never contained even a tenth as much. Converted to cash, it was what Lydia earned in a month.

  Before each question, contestants had the opportunity to bank their earnings and retire from play. The host always provided a clue as to the nature of the next question to tempt them to continue, this time revealing that the 500,000-credit question would relate to modern cinema. Roger elected to gamble.

  "Kaitlyn Judd starred in which recent vampire blockbuster?"

  Immediate regret filled Roger's mind. He tried to remain calm as the options appeared. The only one he recognised was C) Lair of Fangs. Educated guesswork went against his usual strategy, but he didn't even know if B) The Stake of Destiny was a real movie. He had to go with C.

  Correct!

  Roger marched into the penultimate round with just nine other players. The host's promise that the 1,000,000-credit question related to science saw four of them bank their 500,000 immediately. Roger played on and found his courage rewarded with a question he knew. Other than mercury, bromine was the only chemical element to be liquid at room temperature. He had never been so grateful to have had an engaging chemistry teacher.

  1,000,000 FunFare credits.

  1,000,000! Roger's current earnings represented more than he could accrue in a full year of all-day viewing. He waited for a hint about the next question.

  "Now," said the host, "as you all know, we offer no hint regarding the nature of the final question. Our players' decisions come down to how much they really want that jackpot."

  This was a major setback. Knowing nothing of the final question, Roger knew he could be walking into a trap. But he could almost touch the10,000,000 credits. If 1,000,000 would grant him a year's freedom from soul-destroying ad-viewing then 10,000,000 would mean a whole decade; almost as long as Sophie had been alive. He had to go for it.

  Only one of the remaining players joined him in tackling the final question.

  "We are left with two brave players," the host beamed. "Best of luck to Nicki and Roger."

  To hell with Nicki and to hell with luck, Roger thought. Just give me the question.

  "And now? the 10,000,000-credit question. How many terrorists were killed in today's drone-strike? I repeat: how many terrorists were killed in today's drone-strike?"

  "203!" Roger shouted at the Funscreen. "203!" He could hardly believe his luck. All he wanted was for the options to appear so he could lock his answer in and secure the jackpot.

  The host read the options out before they appeared. "Was it A) 3, B) 23?"

  And then, from nowhere, three firm knocks on the front door.

  ~

  Roger held his breath. Don't shout through the door, Lydia. Don't shout through the door!

  Lydia didn't shout, because Lydia wasn't there.

  "Please unlock your door, sir. This is the police."

  A prank, surely. One of Danny's idiot friends. Probably that annoying Kevin kid.

  Roger stayed quiet. Whoever the caller was, they seemed to be out of the Funscreen's earshot.

  "I'm forcing the lock," said the unseen man. He began to count down from five.

  Roger tried to maintain his focus and select from the options that now filled the screen. He chose 203. He knew it was correct.

  "Are those your final answers?" the host asked Roger and Nicki.

  Roger instinctively answered out loud. Before he could select "YES" to lock-in his winning answer, the whole screen turned blue.

  "Unauthorised viewer detected," said an unpleasant female voice.

  Roger turned round to see a police officer standing beside his open door.

  "What the hell have you done?" he screamed at the man. "You just cost me 10,000,000 credits! I won't even get the million I could have banked."

  Unmoved, the man stepped forward. "Is your son Danny home, Mr Birch?"

  "Why?" Roger asked, temporarily distracted from the quiz-related disaster by the suggestion that his son had done something wrong.

  "This isn't going to be easy for you to hear, but we have reason to believe that he is involved in the consumption and/or distribution of narcotics and/or hallucinogens."

  Roger shook his head dumbly. "You've got the wrong house."

  "With respect, sir, the alarm was raised by this Funscreen." The police officer pointed at the unit on Roger's wall.

  "What?"

  "Your Funscreen reported that Danny Birch - age 16, resident at this address - appeared in front of its input sensors while appearing to be under the influence of a controlled substance. His pupils were dilated, his eyes were puffy, and his speech was slurred. The unit's records indicate that you were present at the time. Did you happen to notice any unusual behaviour from your son?"

  Danny had been giggling like a loon, Roger remembered, but that didn't seem like something the police should know. "Nothing at all," he lied.

  "Hmm. In any case, I'm going to have to speak with him."

  "He's upstairs studying."

  "I'm going to have to speak with him."

  "No," said Roger, unprepared to back down. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

  "That would mean more coming from him than you, Mr Birch."

  Roger relented, softened by the implication that Danny could talk his way out of whatever trouble he might be in. "Okay, I'll call him down."

  Danny heard the call and walked carefully down the stairs. "What's this?" he asked Roger. "Did you try to cheat in the quiz?"

  Roger shook his head and explained the situation to Danny. He still hoped that the whole thing was a big misunderstanding, but that hope grew fainter the more he looked into his son's vacant eyes.

  "I took some cough medicine before I went out, okay?" Danny turned to the police officer. "Is that a crime? How can you turn up at our house because the TV says I look tired?"

  "Tell us about your friend Kevin," said the man, deflecting Danny's question. "Funscreen records show that you mentioned going to meet him."

  "So?"

  "Can you confirm that the Kevin in question is your classmate Kevin Douglas of 172 Slater Avenue?"

  Danny's face fell. "Is he dead?"

  "No. But he is in police custody."

  Danny swallowed hard. That was almost worse.

  "Kevin was found in possession of marijuana," the man continued. "And our system tied it all together. Your Funscreen raised the initial alarm, linking your slurred speech and drowsy appearance to the meeting you mentioned previously. This led to an automatic digital investigation of your contact with Kevin, revealing a telephone conversation recorded by his Funscreen earlier this evening in which he explicitly asked you, and I quote: "So, like, how much pot do you need?" You answered that you would decide when you saw it."

  "Is that true?" Roger asked Danny.

  "I have nothing to hide," Danny said.

  "That's not what I asked. Did you agree to buy drugs?"

  Danny put his head in his hands. How could Kevin have been so stupid as to make a sensitive call in front of the goddamn spy screen? They had learned at school that the Funscreen was a data-miner's dream and that its inputs were regularly scanned by law enforcement agencies. Kevin was as clued up as anyone else. Danny realised then that it just didn't make sense.

  "You expect me to believe that Kevin made a call in front of his Funscreen while it was turned on?" he asked.

  "It doesn't have to be turned on," the man replied. "Or, to put it another way, it's always on. As long as the Funscreen is plugge
d in, the Funscreen is recording. But forget about that. All that matters right now is that it will count in your favour if you come easily. You'll be looking at a few education sessions, some community service?"

  "For what?" Danny protested. "Talking about drugs? I'm not even holding! Maybe I did meet Kevin to buy some. So what? Unless you can prove otherwise, I backed out of the deal. My eyes are puffy from the medicine." He faked two coughs. This lie would fall apart if Kevin testified differently but Danny trusted that he wouldn't; Kevin might have been an idiot, but he wasn't a rat.

  The police officer had little choice but to retreat and hope that the system came up with some new evidence. "Take this as a warning," he said, approaching the still-open door. "Both of you. You should reflect on what kind of household you're running here, Mr Birch. Your Funscreen has sent us three separate reports tonight. First you tried to game the payment system, then your son threatened to smash the unit to pieces, and now this nonsense. You oughta keep a closer eye on him. The Funscreen can't do all the work."

  Roger and Danny stood in silence, listening as the police car pulled away into the night. Roger stared blankly at the Funscreen. He had welcomed it into his home and it had ratted out his son to the police. He wanted to smash it to pieces himself.

  "It's watching us watching it," Danny said. "It's watching us all the time. It's listening to every word we say."

  Roger didn't reply.

  "Are you gonna tell her?"

  "Maybe," Roger lied. Of course he wasn't. Lydia would be disappointed in Danny, for sure, but she would be furious with Roger for letting their son use drugs on his watch.

  "Wait," Danny thought aloud. "What if the Funscreen tells her?"

  "Why would it do that?"

  "I dunno. Who knew it would tell the police what schoolkids were talking about on the phone?"

  Roger sat down. Danny followed. They stared up at the Funscreen, wondering what it was thinking. It always had that advantage. People were easy to read, what with their heartbeats and facial expressions. But the Funscreen? The Funscreen was faceless. The Funscreen's eyes were hidden behind a 60-inch glass veil. The Funscreen couldn't be read.