by Liam Fialkov
He only saw his son on rare occasions, because his ex-wife moved to Oregon, on the other side of the continent, while he remained in New York, where he conducted his investigations.
The respected journalist was frustrated after Michael turned him down; telling him unequivocally that he didn’t intend to betray the trust of his employer and friend, producer Walter Lindsey. Along with that, McPherson appreciated Michael for his honesty and integrity, and didn’t rule out the possibility of collaborating with him on a future undertaking.
McPherson called producer Walter Lindsey directly and said that he would like to conduct an interview with him, with the purpose of learning what the source of The Broadcast’s films was. As he expected, Lindsey responded by saying that he had no intention of revealing his sources, which were protected by press immunity.
At that point, all that was left for the journalist was to openly come out against the show, and he chose to publish an article in the weekend edition of the New York Times. Due to the prestige that McPherson had acquired over the years, as a courageous fighter for truth in reporting, the piece received a prime location in the newspaper. The article started on the first page and continued on interior pages.
“Don’t Let Them Fool You,” was the title of the article. In the body of the article it read:
“Many in the American public are watching and are fascinated by the program, The Broadcast, which is aired weekly on TXB affiliated stations. The program is showing supposedly real films, which document events from the near and more distant past. All the films are photographed with the same mediocre quality, and from an unusual filming angle, from straight above.
“Up until today, TXB officials, including senior producer Walter Lindsey, have refused to reveal the origin of the unique footage, claiming they are bound by a confidentiality agreement and have an obligation to protect their sources.
“In my opinion, the show is based on a large-scale deception. It is one thing to publish a science fiction movie, an artistic creation for the sake of entertainment, and quite another thing to claim that the movie is an authentic documentation of a real event. At TXB, they want us to believe that somehow they have access to a spaceship that is shooting films from a distance, and transferring them exclusively to the TXB network. They are exploiting our yearning to believe in fantastic possibilities and are doing it with the purpose of generating high ratings. I know for a fact that nowadays it is possible to produce films like that in a well-equipped studio, through the use of advanced animation, 3-D, and virtual reality programs.
“The information and footage that they broadcast on their journey back in time to past centuries could be achieved by anyone. All you would need is the willingness to invest the time and conduct a thorough research, go to libraries, to the Internet, and to talk to historians.
“I must admit, I had a tougher time figuring out how they successfully solved crime cases. I think that there could be two explanations: The first one, the people of the network somehow came across a secretive police pool of information that was concealed even from police officers, perhaps because it was obtained illegally by military factors. And the second one, the programs were staged and the police officers collaborated and participated in a TV production. I must emphasize, at this stage I’m not accusing police officers of a breach of trust, but just making assumptions about the cases that were supposedly solved by the films.
“The most significant argument that I can bring in my claim that the films are fabricated animation, and not filmed from a great distance is that if the films were authentic, then the network would not have a reason to protect their source.
“I am calling on the managers of TXB and the show’s producer to stop hiding behind the excuses of reporter’s privilege and confidentiality of sources. The law that allows reporters to avoid exposing their source of information is designed to protect journalists from lawsuits and persecution. The law was not put in place so as to give the media an ability to spread false information, attract innocent viewers, and make a fortune from advertisers.
Stewart McPherson, New York, June 25, 2021.
The article won a great deal of public attention. Many journalists joined their esteemed colleague’s call, against the few who thought that the journalistic privilege must be maintained at all cost. Public debates arose on TV forums, radio shows, and on the Internet. Most people sided with McPherson’s opinion, that the network should reveal its sources, and the pressure on TXB started to accelerate.
Chapter 33
Sarah
Slowly and gradually, Sarah saw how sadness was taking over her world. She felt sluggish, as if surrounded by a dense shroud of murkiness. She yearned to break through to lucidity and clarity, but it appeared as though she had lost the key to the door of the walls that enclosed her.
Sarah knew that her work was negatively affected and that her patients weren’t getting the quality care that they deserved. In the past, she had quite a few patients who suffered from depression, but although she had put a lot of effort in trying to understand them and treat them with empathy, she didn’t really know how they felt.
Now, she battled an inner need to express sympathy with her patients, to tell them she shared the same fate, to scream along with them, to agree with them, saying, “It’s true, it’s a shitty world!” But she stopped herself and managed to keep a professional façade.
“What kind of psychologist am I?” Sarah criticized herself in her conversation with her sister, Julie. “If I’m not capable of helping myself, how could I expect to be able to help my patients?”
“You are going through a rough time,” said Julie, who was the closest person to her and her best friend in the world. “Everyone is going through hardships in their lives, and that includes you and me.”
“I don’t see the end of it,” Sarah agonized, “and I have no idea how to pull myself out of this situation. I just feel like crawling into a tunnel in the ground and disappearing.”
“About a year ago,” Julie confided, “I went through a very rough time. Edmond fell in love with a young client whose house he was renovating and he moved in with her.”
“Really?” Sarah was surprised. “How is it that you never told me about it?”
“I wanted to tell you,” Julie responded, “but I was afraid of bothering you with my troubles.”
Sarah thought about her wonderful sister, who was always willing to lend an ear, but worried about being a burden and exposing her own difficulties. “And how are things between you now?” Sarah was interested.
“He came back home,” Julie answered. “He claimed he did it for the kids, but I suspect that she either dumped him, or they just broke up.”
“My sister,” Sarah said, “You are the most precious person in the world to me.”
“So believe me,” Julie said, “when I’m telling you that you’ll manage to pull through, and one day you’ll look back, and you won’t understand why you felt so bad.”
“I sure hope so,” Sarah said. “But in the meantime, I have a tougher and tougher time fulfilling my duties at work, and now that Jonathan was laid off, I can’t simply quit and look for another job because my salary pays for most of our living expenses.”
“Jonathan is not working?” Julie asked.
“He still gets unemployment,” Sarah answered, “and he has a few clients that he fixes cars for, but most of the time he is in his own world, and we are not communicating as we used to.”
“So how about…” Julie contemplated. “Why won’t you take a vacation and come visit me in San Francisco?”
“It could be that I really need a change of atmosphere,” Sarah responded. “I’ll check with the clinic to see if they can manage without me for a week or two, and thank you for the invitation.”
Sarah approached the clinic’s director and asked for an immediate unplanned vacation. The director approved her request and somberly said, “I hope that you would manage to recharge your batteries and return w
ith renewed strength. I noticed that you are facing difficulties, and I considered suggesting that you take a leave of absence from work.”
Sarah understood that Julie’s offer came on time, perhaps as a last-minute rescue. The clinic’s director did not express direct grievance toward her, and still, Sarah could see that she was displeased, and thought that Sarah was not functioning as was expected of her.
Sarah used to like living out in the country, far from car’s engines and other urban noises. When she had lived in the city, the strident sirens of ambulances and fire trucks especially disturbed her. The sirens were a constant reminder of the transience of her existence, and she knew that sooner or later, the sirens would screech for her….
But every once in a while, when she arrived in San Francisco, she got filled with positive excitement. She felt how the big metropolis, with hundreds of thousands of pulsating souls, had been concealing unrealized possibilities, harboring great potential and waiting for her.
Julie took a two-day vacation so that she could be with her sister. The two of them liked spending time together; they were sisters as well as best friends, and they knew they could count on each other in both good and troubled times.
Julie suggested a trip to the island of Alcatraz. Sarah felt that it didn’t matter where they were as long as they were together, and they could exchange thoughts and impressions.
They climbed aboard a ferry that sailed to the famous island, where once, a notorious prison housed very dangerous criminals. Sarah enjoyed the calm cruise, and she liked seeing the city from the sea. The wind, the seagulls, and the water granted her a momentary feeling of freedom, which ended when they arrived at the island and the prison, where the convicts were jailed, most of them for cruel acts of murder. Sarah and Julie toured the jail compound and saw the dark cells and the difficult conditions that the prisoners had to endure.
“You see,” Julie said, “your life isn’t so terrible in comparison to what used to take place here.”
“I understand why there were many escape attempts,” Sarah responded pensively. “This place can give you a different perspective of looking at things.” Sarah felt a sense of distress and asked to go out to the open air. They returned to the city on the ferry and toured Fisherman’s Wharf, a colorful area situated by the ocean. They sat at a restaurant that was located on the waterfront and ordered a generous meal.
“So what’s bothering you?” Julie asked directly, and affectionately looked at her sister.
“You know,” Sarah sighed, “I’m at a point in my life when I have to accept that I won’t have children of my own, and I’m having a tough time dealing with it. For a long time, I hoped that my son would search for me, and it’s not happening, and I’m feeling hopeless.”
“You must not lose hope,” Julie said. “I’m sure the time will come when he will look for you and find you.”
“I miss him so much,” Sarah uttered sadly.
“And what’s going on between you and Jonathan?” Julie asked, understanding that her sister’s low spirit was probably affected by the main relationship in her life.
“The situation is not good,” Sarah acknowledged, “and it’s my fault.”
“Why is it your fault?” Julie was surprised.
“Because I cheated on him often, and then he closed himself off to me and to complicate matters, he has found a half-sister on the internet.”
“You cheated? A sister?” Julie was perplexed.
“I wasn’t happy, maybe because I wanted to have children so bad, so I started to fool around. At first, I was still hoping to get pregnant, and then it became a habit and a destructive addiction.”
Julie was stunned, trying to comprehend her sister’s words that were said in a simple manner and without an attempt to hide or to justify.
“So, I don’t really blame him,” Sarah continued, “for looking for women on the Internet and finding a sister.”
“Is this for real?” Julie asked “An actual sister, or something of a fantasy?”
“At first I thought it was weird and delusional, but now I just don’t know,” Sarah said. “I met her, and she is not some nutcase, but a serious woman who teaches computers at a university.”
“What an amazing story,” Julie responded. “Compared to you, my crazy life looks like smooth sailing.”
“I still love him,” Sarah said, “and I believe that he still loves me, but we live in two separate worlds.”
“I remember when you told me about him, right after you met,” Julie recalled. “You were excited, and confident in your forbidden love, a love between a therapist and a patient. I have never seen you as happy as during that time. You were shining, surrounded by an aura when you told me about the love that came to your life, as a sensitive patient, but also strong and handsome. And I knew that you deserved to live in happiness, after everything that you’ve gone through.”
“Jonathan has a site in the forest,” Sarah said, “He spends a lot of time there, and thinks that the place was an ancient transmission station.”
“What is a transmission station?” Julie asked.
“I don’t really know,” Sarah answered.
“Have you been there?” Julie wanted to know.
“Only once,” Sarah answered. “We’ve discovered the place together, and I’ve seen that it is indeed a unique spot, but I never returned, and Jonathan excavated the place by himself. He showed the place to Irene.”
“Irene?”
“That supposed half-sister of his.”
“By the way,” Julie changed the subject, “do you happen to watch the program The Broadcast?
“Yes,” Sarah responded. “It is one of the few things that we still do together.”
“They took an interesting turnabout,” Julie said, “when they stopped the crime shows and went onto broadcasting historical events.”
“An interesting turn indeed,” Sarah agreed. She was proud, and knew that her sister had no idea that it was she who had initiated the change in direction for the New York-based network. “Jonathan approaches this show with utmost seriousness,” Sarah said. “And through him, I also became fascinated by the program. It’s strange, but I feel that there is a connection of some kind between my life and The Broadcast.”
“What do you mean?” Julie wondered.
“I don’t know,” Sarah answered. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”
Edmond, Julie’s husband, returned home in the evening. Surprisingly, he kept to himself and didn’t nag the guest with unnecessary questions. The children behaved well and were unusually polite toward their aunt.
On the following day, Julie took Sarah for a tour of Chinatown, which is the largest Chinese community outside of Asia. They walked around and curiously examined the unusual stores, especially the unique herbal displays, which offered a cure for every illness and pain. Sarah told Julie about some of the spiritual encounters that she had recently experienced. About the Indian guru that had let her down, the Zen master who had talked about looking at the world as it is, and the Tibetan lama who had spoken of the Tibetan Book of the Dead and the journey the soul goes through after death.
“And do you feel that those experiences contributed to your life?” Julie was curious.
“I think that I didn’t give this direction enough chance,” Sarah answered. “Practicing yoga definitely improved my mood, but I couldn’t continue on that path after I got disappointed by the guru and his community leaders. I’m convinced that the teacher must serve as an example. After I stopped, I found myself sinking into a depression. Maybe in the future I’ll continue to look for my path and I’ll find a spiritual guide who speaks to my heart.”
“Don’t give up, sister,” Julie said. “And when you find someone worthy, tell me about him or her.”
The following day Julie had to go back to work, and Sarah thought she’d enjoy touring the city by herself. She rode a cable car with no specific destination in mind, letting herself get carried along
the roads and along her thoughts. She walked down a street called Church Street, where she saw a group of nuns. She looked in their direction. Once, she had dressed like them, when she had stayed at the monastery, so many years ago. But really? There was something odd about thembizarre; they were… men, or perhaps transgender people.
She smiled at them. “Are you nuns?” she asked.
“We are the sisters of perpetual indulgence,” answered one of them in a male voice.
That’s how most people are; she thought to herself. These nuns are at least honest about it.
Sarah thought a picnic out in the open air would be a good idea, so she entered a grocery store and bought herself fresh bread, vegetables, yellow cheese, and freshly squeezed orange juice. She waved a taxi over and asked the driver to take her to the famous Golden Gate Bridge.
She got out of the cab near the bridge, where there was a nice park that seemed like an appropriate place for a small meal. She picked a shady spot that had a good view of the bridge. She spread a piece of cloth on the lawn and proceeded with cutting the bread and vegetables. She then enjoyed a tasty meal in a pleasant environment. Looking around, she saw children playing, and their mothers were watching over them while chatting with each other.
Something was wrong, and it made her feel strange. What was it? The food was tasty, and she enjoyed the fresh juice. The environment was pleasant, and still, she felt weird, heavy, and sluggish. What is wrong with me? She sensed that she was acting in a mechanical way, like something took control over her. Had she been in this situation before? It was as if she was surrounded by a thick shroud, immersed in a fog for a long time—so long she had forgotten when she felt good. When did I really laugh with inner joy? It had been ages that she was like a ghost, a walking shadow of herself.
