"All I know is I got advertisers threatening to pull spots," Mike said. "We've got some angry listeners."
Charles requested copies of all of the previous broadcasts featuring the voice and returned to his hotel to listen. Graham completed his show without further incident but stayed clear of the phones. Mike, meanwhile, dealt with an avalanche of phone calls from angry listeners, clients and the local newspaper. Toward the end of the day, he entertained a visit from the local police chief.
"Mike, I'm going to have to arrest him if he doesn't quit."
"Oh hell, Dewey, arrest him for what?"
"Disturbing the peace, inciting a riot...”
"Graham is doing nothing of the kind. That's a load of crap."
"Look, Mike, I'm getting phone calls at all hours of the night complaining about this. People are riled."
"The Church of Christ people are who's riled."
"It ain't just them. I've got a stack of complaints a mile high down at the office. They want him to stop."
"Dewey, how many times have I got to tell you? Graham ain't the one doing this. Our broadcast has been hijacked. I've filed a complaint with the FCC. You want to see it?"
"I don't need to see it. I believe you. How long is it going to take them to fix this?"
"Well, they got to find the guy illegally broadcasting first. We haven't been able to track him down."
"If you take Graham off the air, will the hijacker in question go away?"
"I don't know and why would I want to do that? Think about it. I should just hand over the frequency to the nut job you want me to silence? If Graham's doing anything, he's preventing this lunatic from going full bore."
Dewey now hushed his tone. "Mike, are you sure Graham ain't involved in this in some way?"
"Yes, I'm sure. He's just as alarmed about this as you are."
"He sure don't sound alarmed on the radio."
"That's his job. He's a professional. Professionals don't sound rattled even when they are."
"That may be, but look... we all know his history."
"Now, I'm gonna stop you right there, Dewey...”
"I'm just saying that he's had a problem with the liquor...”
"So did your Mama, Dewey, God rest her soul, and I don't recall her ever inciting no riot."
"I'm only asking if you're sure this ain't some kind of on air play he dreamed up. I been listening to his tapes on the internet."
"That was a long time ago. He don't do stuff like that no more. I can't believe we're talking about this. You know the man, for crying out loud. He’s a member of your church. Hell, go ask him yourself."
"I'm an officer of the law and these are questions I got to ask. You're his employer, so I'm askin' you."
"He's a good man, Dewey. A family man. He's taken to that little girl just like she was his own. Graham Barry is an upstanding member of this community. You ain’t ever found him in any trouble around here. Last year alone, he raised over five thousand dollars for your battered women’s shelter. You really think he just now went off the deep end for no good reason?"
"I don't, Mike. The truth is I don't. It's just that a lot of people are thinking that maybe he did."
"Well, I know that better than any of you. I'm losing a lot of money right now."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mike."
"Jimmy even pulled his advertising for the new car lot."
"That ain't right. Y'all got history."
"Well, he can't be associated with this kind of talk and I understand that."
Dewey paused for a moment and then reached out to shake Mike's hand. "All right, Mike. I'll keep them at bay, but I'm going to need you to keep me updated on the FCC. Let me know what they find out. It also wouldn't hurt you to take those calls from the paper. Tell your side of the story. Explain what's really happening here."
"I'm thinkin' I might have to."
"The whole town's havin' a come apart. I don't want you to lose any more business."
Mike walked Dewey toward the door. "I appreciate that, Dewey, and I will keep you in touch."
"Thank you, Mike. You think Bama's gonna do it again this year?"
"Lord willin' and the quarterback don't choke."
"I hear ya. Roll tide, Mikey."
"Roll tide, Dew."
The next day, Graham and Mike awoke as the most unpopular men in town. Typically, Graham would stop by a local gas station on his way in to the office to purchase a cup of coffee. He was accustomed to being greeted with a warm smile and even a bit of small talk. Today, the mood was inside was decidedly different. When he walked in the shop, the room, typically abuzz with conversation, fell quiet. Graham stood awkwardly in line and waited to pay for his coffee. "Guitar lessons. Free cats. Donate your pennies for baby Lucinda." Graham read every flier on the cashier's wall in an effort to avoid eye contact. The clerk coldly handed him his change, and as he left, he could feel their stares upon him. This was familiar, but in the past when he had angered a city, Graham had been far too hung-over to notice or even care. On this day, he finally felt disapproval in the icy chill of sobriety. When he arrived at the station, things were different, though. Mike greeted him at the door and had obviously been waiting for him to arrive.
"Is everything okay?" Graham asked.
"Well, I’d say we got ourselves another situation,” Mike said, beaming.
"Is the station off the air? I didn’t see any missed calls."
"No, no. Everything's fine. Just fine. We've got us a visitor that you're going to want to see!"
"Another scientist?"
"Just come up to my office for some excitin' news, son!"
Graham followed Mike upstairs to his office. Inside, a guy in a suit sat chatting on his cell phone. He smiled when he saw the two of them and quickly wrapped up his conversation. He hung up the phone and met Graham in the doorway.
"Graham! How are you, man? I'm not sure if you remember me...”
"I'm sorry...”
"Steve Seagal. Steve. I was V.P. of Programming for Northstar!"
"In Phoenix?"
"Yeah! We were competitors. Well, technically, I went head to head with your V.P., Pugs Kelly, but, hey, you gave us a hell of a fight, bro."
"Thanks."
"Going against you in morning drive sucked, dude! You know Ramirez had a nervous breakdown, didn't you?"
"What? No. I didn't know that."
"Fuck yeah. That week during the fall book when Chase, the night guy, took over mornings?"
"Oh. Yeah. I thought that was weird."
"You put him in the fucking hospital, he was so stressed out. He was convinced that we were going to can his ass," Steve laughed.
"Shit. I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's a shame your run ended the way it did. You weren't given a fair shake in the papers out there, man. That was brutal.”
"Yeah. I know."
"We almost called you when we cut Ramirez but you were pretty fucked up back then."
"Yep."
"Hey, anyway, have a seat. Did Mike tell you why I'm here?"
"Well, he said it was 'excitin' news'," Graham gave a smile to Mike, who gave him a fist bump. Steve became quite serious. "I think it is. Graham, what would you say right this moment if I were to offer you national syndication?"
"Doing what?"
Steve and Mike laughed heartily. "Doing your show, man!" said Steve. "'Doing what' he says!”
Graham shifted in his chair and waited for the hilarity to settle. What was happening on the air wasn't syndication-worthy. He knew that. "Guys, what you're hearing on the air right now... it isn't my show. It's a hijacked broadcast. I can't control what's happening in there."
Steve's eyes lit up. "That's why it's so fantastic! Graham, you know the state of radio. You read the trades, right? We're dying. Dying on the vine, bro. The Internet is fucking killing us. And why? Because radio has become so fucking predictable. Stale. The same five hundred songs played ad nauseam and devoi
d of personality. No life. No pulse."
"No pulse," Mike echoed, sadly shaking his head in agreement.
"What's happening right here, right now, today on your show is absolutely thrilling."
"It's damn exciting," said Mike.
"Dude, you've got a fucking space man on the air with you. Your second chair is motherfucking E.T. That's genius!"
"It's clever," Mike nodded.
"It's clever, and we know it's marketable. How many times has your stream crashed in the last two days?"
"A lot. I don't think I know exac-”
"The listeners have spoken! They want this kind of programming. I'm with Regal Networks now."
"Oh, yeah? When did you land there?"
"About two years ago after the bottom fell out of Prestige. Y'know, after they got swallowed up in the Stratus-RedComm merger. Fucking brutal."
"I bet. Sure."
"Anyway, we're confident that we can place you on at least thirty six stations in the first week alone. Hundreds within a month."
"What?"
"I know! We're talking Stern shit here, and you do nothing. Change nothing. Broadcast right here, we beam you nationwide, handle the stream, the website, place you in iTunes and develop the app, the works. You just come in to work every day and do what you do."
"That's just the thing... Steve, I'm not really doing anything. Mike, you know that...”
Mike shook his head. "You're being modest, Graham."
"I'm calling bullshit, too, Graham," Steve said. "I've seen you in action. When you were on your game, you were a motherfucking titan, man. I would have put you up against any jock in any top twenty market without thinking twice. But the pressure got you, bro. It happens. It happens to the best." Steve's cell phone began to ring. "But now you're back, Graham and we're willing to pay handsomely for a piece of the action. Look, I've got to take this. Mike, can you fill him in on what we talked about?"
"You got it," Mike said as he followed Steve to the door and closed it behind him.
"Mike...”
"I know what you're going to say, Graham, but you just hold on one minute because I got somethin' to say myself, ya hear?"
"Ok."
"This man is offering you and, yes, me a lot of money. A lot of money, Graham." Mie laughed. "Moneygram. Anyway, I don't think we can pass up this opportunity."
"Mike, you know as well as I do that this could end at any moment. Hell, you're trying to put a stop to it right now yourself."
"I can call off the dogs."
"What if he stops broadcasting?"
"Then we replace him with a new spaceman. Happens all the time and then you can control the script. Start talkin' more about boobies and less about math."
"If this goes national, he's going to want a piece. He could sue."
"He ain't gonna sue me. I'll eat his ass alive in a court of law. You think any judge is gonna allow someone to break every FCC regulation on the books, plus cost me a generous amount of revenue? I'm just a poor, defenseless, small-town businessman, Graham." Mike smiled. "And if the sonofabitch wants paid, we'll pay his butt. We'll have more than enough."
Mike handed Graham the agreement and pointed to the offer with his pen. It was more money than Graham had ever made. Double what he was making in Dallas; five times what he was making now. Mike's share was just as much plus they each got a split on the ad revenue.
"This feels weird, Mike."
Mike got up, walked slowly over to Graham and sat on his desk. "Graham, you know I'm on your side, right?"
"Yes, Mike. I do. I've always appreciated...”
"I know. I know. I think highly of you too. It's a mutual respect. And I mean no disrespect when I tell you what I'm about to tell you, son. You ain't gonna get another chance like this, Graham. You and I both know that this is your last stop. You're gonna grow old here, and I'm happy to have you. But don't kid yourself. Assholes like this boy Steve don't come around Tuscumbia, Alabama sniffin' for syndicated talent. It just don't happen. Hell, I ain't gotta tell you that. You know it. So, don't be a fool. Take the money. And, as for me...” Mike flashed that winning grin. "Well, Graham, I do think you owe me a payday right about now. I'm losin' my ass, son. Throw me a bone."
The Graham Barry Program went into syndication within a week. As Steve had promised, the show launched with thirty five affiliates nationwide. However, Graham was terribly concerned. For three days prior to the launch, he had not heard a word from the voice. He expressed his anxiety to Mike; their worst-case scenario of having to replace the voice with a paid actor might come to fruition. Mike assured him that this wouldn't be a problem and even advised him to begin the process of searching out potential talent for the role. In the days leading up to the maiden broadcast, Graham made a regular point of reminding listeners, hopefully including the pirate, that the show would soon be broadcast nationwide. They ran promos throughout the day letting listeners know and even went so far as to cross promote the show on the other stations in the cluster.
Everyone at the station was excited. Mike bought a keg and some fried chicken and held an after-hours party to celebrate the news with the rest of the small staff. The station's engineer seemed to enjoy rigging up the satellite dishes and new equipment necessary to facilitate the show. In all, it was a happy whirlwind.
However, a number of residents of the town didn't see this as good news, for obvious reasons. In the week leading up to the nationwide debut, they picketed the radio station with signs reading “Broadcasting Blasphemy!" and "Missing the Point - God". The newspaper ran an article on the launch but focused more on the controversy surrounding the show and Graham's checkered past. The Church of Christ continued their boycott of the station.
Quietly though, a string of sponsors began to get on board and the syndication guys loved the bad press. They used it to their advantage got as much mileage out of it as possible. They called Graham's show "shocking" and "in-your-face" and even "groundbreaking". It was titillating. The radio industry press was kind. They referred to Graham as the "comeback kid" and told his story with reverence and lively humor. Former bosses came out of the woodwork to sing his praises and tell funny stories about Graham's drunken tenure at their respective stations. To hear them recount it now, Graham was always more of a lovable, good-natured drunk in the mold of Dean Martin rather than his previous, more notorious, persona. It turns out that deep down; Graham was actually just a tortured artist, battling demons that he finally conquered. Everybody loved him now. All was forgiven. Of course, Graham didn't buy it, but he did allow himself to enjoy the redemption.
The show was to include music, but the primary focus, of course, was to be on Graham's discourse with his otherworldly co-host. The day of the first national broadcast, Graham arrived scared to death that the voice might not make an appearance. His backup plan was essentially a reversion back to his former, major market program. He had even spent a considerable amount of time listening to his own old air checks in an attempt to re-learn his own shtick. It wouldn't be hard to get back on that horse if need be, he finally concluded. He was convinced, however, that it would, most likely, alienate much of his local audience. When the clock struck 3pm that day, buttons were pushed, and Graham's voice was now heard not only in Alabama but Atlanta, his old Dallas stomping grounds, and thirty three other markets nationwide. He took a deep breath and cracked the mic as his theme music began its fade.
“Good afternoon and welcome to the Graham Barry Program. I'm Graham and, well, welcome to the inaugural nationwide broadcast. Most of you don't know me. Some of you do. Hello, Dallas. What I'm hoping you'll hear today is an unusual piece of folly as I'm typically joined by a man from outer space. Yes. You heard correctly. My co-host is a being that claims to...”
"This is incorrect."
Graham breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time, he was happy to hear the voice, but a cheesy music bed came up under their conversation. Apparently, this was something the network had p
lanned.
"And there he is now. What did I get incorrect?"
"We are not of your world but you are of ours."
"That's what I said. You're from outer-space."
"This is incorrect."
"Okay, fine. How about explaining what you mean?"
"When we speak of your world, we speak not only of your planet but your solar system and your universe."
"So, you're not from our universe."
"This is correct."
"Where exactly are you?'
"This will be complex for you."
"Again with the insults? Friends, the voice insults me a lot. Try me."
"It is not to be an insult. Our bodies exist on separate planes. In a short time, this will change."
"Ahhh, yes. The great evolution you keep speaking about."
"This is correct."
"When exactly can we expect this evolution to begin? I, for one, am ready to get evolving."
"This is good. Time is relative but, as you measure it, it will begin in one hour."
Graham paused for a moment. The pirate was setting up some sort of stunt, and he felt more than a little helpless. His mind began to race, concerned that now he would be expected to launch a nationwide promotion with zero preparation.
"One hour? Well, that's not a lot of time, buddy. I'm not sure I can evolve that fast."
"This process will be gradual. You need not evolve immediately."
"Well, that's good news. What exactly will happen?"
"Our worlds will be joined."
"I knew it. You're invading us. Watch out, everybody, here come the spacemen."
"This is incorrect."
"So, is this going to be, like, Bam! Our worlds are joined or will this be more of a 'they are already among us' sort of thing?"
"We are not physically among you, but will be, in time. Your world will be aware of our presence."
That sounded rather ominous. Graham wasn't sure if he liked where the pirate was taking this. The last thing he needed was to be accused of using his show to make terrorist threats. "Are we talking explosions and great distress in the streets? Rainbows and unicorns? What?"
"We mean you no harm. Quite the contrary. There are no unicorns."
Ascension: Invocation Page 5
