They were waiting for him when he stepped out his front
door. The woman, in heavy makeup and a coal colored pant suit, approached him
aggressively. Her two male companions scurried to her side, one pointing a
video camera at Jim, while the other gripped a boom microphone suspended on a
long pole over the woman’s head.
“Mr. Smith, good morning! I’m glad we caught you before you
left for work.” The woman said. “We’re with the channel six news team. Do you mind
answering a few questions?”
Jim thought the woman looked familiar. He usually watched
channel three, but maybe he’d caught sight of her while flipping through stations
one night. He smiled politely, “I guess I have a few minutes.”
“That’s great!” The woman exclaimed. She stepped beside him,
until they were shoulder to shoulder. The cameraman had repositioned himself,
with Jim and the woman in the frame of his lens.
“Just relax and be natural. That’s what people want to see.”
The woman said to Jim. She pulled a small mirror from her pocket and checked
her makeup. She looked into the camera and said, “Everything look good?”
The cameraman nodded. He counted down silently, signaling
with his fingers, and finally pointed at her. A red light appeared on the
camera.
“I’m here at the home of Jim Smith, the man who, in recent
days, has become well-known around the country since being appointed by
President Morris as the U.S.’s very first Czar
of Reason and Normality. Mr. Smith, tell our viewers what these last few
days have been like for you? How are you settling into this new role?” The
woman turned her body slightly toward him and cocked her head, waiting for his
response.
“Uh.” Jim said. “I’m just doing my normal stuff, you know?
The President told me I shouldn’t really change anything. They sort of chose me
because I’m just a normal guy. I’m still going to work, driving the same car;
everything’s like it was before. No big changes.”
The woman smiled. “That’s good to hear. But with the whole
country depending on you, do you feel any pressure? I would imagine you do.”
Jim glanced over the woman’s shoulder. Another news van had
pulled up. It was channel three, and his favorite news anchor, Jenny Trujillo,
was jogging toward him across the lawn.
“I suppose I feel a little pressure. But, I …” Jim said.
Seeing Jenny Trujillo caused him to lose his train of thought, and for a moment
he stared into the camera with a blank expression. After an awkward pause, the
woman beside him said, “But I’m sure you’re handling it just fine.”
Jim nodded. He could feel his face flushing with embarrassment.
“I’d like to get to a few questions that I’m sure our
viewers are curious about.” The woman said. “First of all, what did you choose
to have for breakfast this morning, Mr. Smith?”
“I had a banana, some toast, and yogurt.” Jim said. “Blueberry yogurt. And a cup of coffee.”
“That sounds very…reasonable.”
The woman said, winking into the camera. “And do you plan to change your diet
at all now that your eating habits will be front page news?”
Jim frowned. “Front page news? Really? I’m sure there are
more important things for you to report on.”
“Mr. Smith, with the President’s new emphasis on normalcy and
reasonableness – and his selection of you as his Czar – many average folks will
be looking to you to provide direction on how to be as normal and reasonable as
possible. That includes diet, routine, financial decisions; the American people
are, I’m sure, even interested in your fashion choices.” She said, gesturing
toward his clothing. “Can you tell us briefly what you’re wearing today?”
Jim looked down his nose and examined his own clothing. “I’m
wearing, uh, a shirt. It’s white. My pants are gray. And this tie was from my
mother.” He said, lifting it toward the camera.
“That’s lovely.” The woman said. “Are those lilies in the pattern
of the fabric?”
“I don’t know.” Jim said. He glanced toward Jenny Trujillo.
She was waiting only a few feet away with her own cameraman beside her.
“Hmm. Perhaps Mr. Smith’s lack of concern regarding
appearance is something we could all learn from.” The woman said solemnly into
the camera.
“I’m sorry.” Jim said, “But I really need to get going. Shouldn’t
be late for work, right?” He stepped away from the camera, and as he walked
toward his car, heard the woman signing off. He was nearly across the lawn when
he heard a familiar voice say, “Mr. Smith, could we have a quick moment with
you?”
Jim had been watching Jenny Trujillo on the evening news for
more than five years, ever since he’d moved to Springfield. She was one of the
last faces he saw and voices he heard before falling asleep each night. Now she
was on his front lawn and he wasn’t sure he could face her.
“I’m really in a hurry to get to work. Sorry.” He said,
opening the car door. He didn’t turn to look at her.
“Only a moment, sir. Please. I just want to ask about – “ She
said. But he didn’t hear what came after that. He had closed his car door and
was behind the steering wheel. He exhaled a heavy breath, started the car, and
slowly pulled out of his driveway. He could feel the cameras pointed at him. He
tried not to look directly at them.
As he reached the end of the block, he began to worry.
Perhaps, he thought, leaving so abruptly was a poor decision. He should have
taken a moment to at least say hello to Jenny Trujillo. His quick departure,
his unwillingness to even make eye contact, might be construed as unreasonable,
abnormal. And this, on his very first day as Czar.
* * * * *
To read more about The Man on the Clapham Omnibus, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.
