The studio was every bit as ostentatious as it looked on television. A highlight reel of The Face’s greatest moments played on a monitor that took up the majority of the dressing room wall. An adjacent wall had been autographed by every celebrity to pass through the room. 

“Did you sign it yet?” 

Gary hadn’t heard anyone come in. He was surprised to see Second One From The Left. Second had been one of the founding members of Self-Titled Debut, the Worlds’ first selfaware boy band. Self-Titled Debut’s self-titled debut album (named, appropriately, Self-Titled Debut) had spawned a couple of massive hits, starting with First Single, followed up by Follow-Up. Once the joke ceased to be funny (admittedly, about two singles into their run). The band was made up of Left, the aforementioned Second One From The Left, Middle, Craig, and Right. Craig wasn’t much of a team player, and had been let go from the band before their second album (Second Album, naturally) was released. Second had gone on to moderate solo success, and was a regular musical guest on The Face’s show. Gary had never been much of a fan of STD, so he wasn’t particularly starstruck. 

“Oh, no, I was just admiring some of the names on here.” 

“Well, here.” 

Second tossed him a marker from a nearby table. Centuries of technological achievement, but they never figured out a better way to write on a wall than a good old-fashioned marker. 

“There’s a tiny little bit of space under my name over there.” 

“Where?” 

“Second panel from the left.”

“Of course.” 

“Yeah. I know. But the money was good.” 

“I didn’t realize you were the musical guest tonight.” 

“I’m not. I just had a friend of mine who works for the network let me know that The Hero Of The Body was going to be here tonight. I just had to come and shake his hand.” 

“Well, here he is, I suppose.” 

They shook. 

“Listen, Gary, I just wanted to-- is it okay if I call you Gary?” 

“I’d rather you call me that than something that isn’t my name.” 

“Valid. Listen, Gary, there are going to be a lot of people coming at you from a lot of different directions. People who wouldn’t have given you the time of day three days ago are now going to be your best friends. The people who were your best friends three days ago are--” 

“Dead.” 

“Oh.” There was a pregnant pause that went into labor and had little triplet pause babies. “Anyway, take it from somebody who went through this overnight-sensation shit already. This is going to get worse before it gets better. But it gets so much better.” 

There was a knock at the door. “You’re on in five.” 

Gary took a deep breath. The Face had started his monologue already with some tasteless joke about Lem and what part of his mother he’d been birthed from that the audience was eating up. Second put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Face is a pro. He’s going to hold your hand through the whole thing. Just answer the questions he asks the way he asks them and you’ll be fine. Don’t dwell on anything, and for God’s sake, don’t take anything he says seriously. It’s all smoke out there.” 

And out the door he went. He was led down a long hall. It felt at least three deciklicks long, but Gary knew that couldn’t be right. (Generations ago, everyone decided “klick” sounded way cooler than “kilometer,” so they restructured the entire metric of distance measurement so that “klick” was the standard) 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for...” 

The DJ put on the catchiest, unts-unts-unts-iest song in his library as the spotlights all converged on the door that was opening at the end of the studio to reveal... 

“Gary Flrglvan!” 

Gary winced. It was a decent attempt at his last name, but not exactly how he wanted to be introduced to the worldswide audience. I don’t want to be introduced to the worldswide audience at all. What the hell am I doing here?

 The Face noticed his apprehension and crossed to meet him, something that would have struck him as a tremendous honor if he’d been capable of such a thought. Instead, he was just grateful to be wearing dark pants. They exchanged made-for- TV pleasantries, then The Face led him to his ergonomic chair. As Gary sank into it, he realized it was gently pulsing. Okay. Maybe this TV thing wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

It took a solid three minutes before the raucous cheers died down enough for The Face to begin the interview. “Gary. Man, it is good to finally meet you.”

“Well, we--” 

“I’m gonna start you off with a hard one, all right? Going to reach deep down into the psyche of The Hero Of The Body and pull out the answer that’s going to shock and amaze the worlds with its insightfulness. Are you ready?” 

“No.” 

The crowd erupted with laughter. Face, for his part, joined them. It was forced, but it definitely encouraged the crowd. 

“Fair enough. Well, ready or not, here I come. Tough question. Here goes.” He let the warning linger for a moment. “Where were you born?” 

Gary looked at him for a moment in disbelief. The crowd broke out into more laughter. Are they laughing at me? “I... uh, Toronto. I was born in Toronto.” 

“Ah, there you have it, folks! The Hero Of The Body is an Ontarian!” 

“Well... it was Scarborough, really, but... yeah. Toronto. I’m sorry, I thought--” 

“You enlisted pretty young, right, Gary? If I read right, you went in pretty much right after graduation.” 

“Yeah. I finished school in ‘85, then I went straight in. Finished basic, then got stationed in Portuspaña for a year before getting assigned to The Heart.” 

“That’s moving pretty fast for somebody without a ton of experience.” 

“My friend. Jason. He...” 

died. He got shot. He was in a mass grave. His family probably doesn’t even know he’s gone. Oh, God, I need to call-- 

“Gary? What about Jason?” 

“Sorry. He... Well, he didn’t make it through The Attack, but--” 

The awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww that came from the crowd actually made him a little mad. 

“Jason, thank you for your sacrifice. It won’t be forgotten.” 

“Yeah. Jason’s brother was a Neuron, and he pulled some strings to get the two of us brought over. It, uh... I wonder if maybe we should have stayed in Portuspaña. Maybe Jason would--” 

And he couldn’t finish the sentence. There was no finish to that sentence. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, The Hero Of The Body has been through a lot the last couple of days. I’m going to be perfectly honest, but I wasn’t sure this was the best idea. Gary has an important story to tell. He single-handedly saved the life of The Head. But he’s seen some horrible things, and he - of all people - has earned our admiration, our respect, but most of all, our patience. Gary, if you want to, we can end this interview right now, we can wing the rest of the show, and you can come back another time. But, if we do that, I do have to ask the one question that’s on everyone’s mind. And I’m being serious this time, no joke questions. Gary, can you do one more question?” 

“Yeah. Fine. One more.” 

“What was it like to shoot that [EDITED FOR TELEVISION] in the face?”