Waste of Space Read online

  Important details.

  Item: Transcript of audio recording

  Source: Chazz’s cell phone

  Date: January 11, 2016

  Chazz: You nerds there? Ready to get this conference-call party started?

  NASAW: We’re here.

  Chazz: Great. So let’s—[doorbell rings in background] oh, hang on a sec, everyone. Rock-climbing-wall delivery.

  NASAW: You have your own rock-climbing wall?

  Chazz: Two rock-climbing walls. LA’s an earthquake town, it’s important to always have a backup—listen, just talk amongst yourselves for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.

  [beat]

  NASAW #1: I can’t believe we agreed to this. [sound of papers sifting] These people are certifiable.

  NASAW #2: And irresponsible.

  NASAW #3: Don’t forget soulless.

  NASAW #4: [sighing] Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We signed the papers. We’re in this whether we like it or not.

  NASAW #2: But look at these emails! They are hurling money at this thing. We’ve been trying to get this sort of funding from the government for years and received nothing—because apparently the money’s all wrapped up in television! I called to double-check the budget because I figured it couldn’t possibly be correct, but it is. The girl on the phone offered to throw in an extra million just because I asked how her day was going!

  NASAW #4: How do they have so much money? They’re a television network!

  NASAW #2: Two words: Chazz Young. I did some research on this guy. Got rich off his daddy’s trust fund, then used it to buy a struggling sports channel. He did an extensive overhaul, switched all its programming to trashy reality television, bumped up its online presence, and installed his own in-house production company to develop his own projects.

  NASAW #4: What does that mean?

  NASAW #2: It means that whenever a ridiculous idea pops into Chazz Young’s mind, he has the unlimited budget and power to make it into a show, air it on television, and spread it all over the internet, just like that.

  NASAW #3: Let me see those figures. [sound of coffee being spit across the table] Jesus Christ! We could buy a brand-new shuttle for that kind of money! Plus fuel!

  NASAW #4: I say we round up the lot of these dolts and send them into space.

  NASAW #2: And I quote: “We will spare no expense on the visuals. None whatsoever.” They’re teaming up with a company called ImmerseFX—it makes video games or virtual reality or theme park rides, I don’t know what the heck it is—to handle the special effects. Which we’re supposed to keep quiet about, by the way, since they’re trying to pass this thing off as real.

  NASAW #4: Psfff. Good luck.

  NASAW #2: They’ve reserved the largest soundstage in the New Mexico desert, and they’re handing it over to us, keys and all. “Build a spaceplane inside!” they said. “Bounce it up and down! Make as much noise as you want!” The effects people will be out there for a few days to build the thing based on our designs—then after that, it’s up to us. All for the purpose of torturing these poor kids with ridiculous pre-written plot points—

  NASAW #3: Pre-written? I thought this was a reality show.

  NASAW #2: Ha! Reality, my ass. The only thing that’s real is the team of video editors they’ve got on call, ready to craft it into whatever they need it to be, while we get to sit around with our thumbs up our posteriors, shaking a tin can with a bunch of spoiled little fame whores sealed inside.

  NASAW #4: But there’s a host onboard with them, right? Some form of adult supervision?

  NASAW #2: Nope! [slightly hysterical laughter] The network people aren’t even going to be on set! They said they’d, quote, “rather be shot into the sun than spend three months in that shithole of a desert,” so they’ll be monitoring everything via live feeds, safe and cool in their air-conditioned offices in Los Angeles, and sending us their instructions. Instructions that, I might add, would be hilarious if they weren’t so blisteringly idiotic.

  NASAW #4: [papers sifting] “Week number one: Asteroid Attack. Will require impacts against the walls of the spaceplane. Week number two: Spinning Out of Control. Will require a rotating video animation to be displayed in the spaceplane’s window.”

  NASAW #2: And there’ll be more where that came from! The cameras onboard the ship will record six hours at a time, upload the video files to the main server we’ll have on-site, then automatically wipe the memory cards and begin recording again. It’s a process that can sustain itself indefinitely without any manual upkeep, which frees up even more time for them to dream up even more foolishness. And then there’s the list—the twenty-three-point list!—of consultants who are only a phone call away should we wish to contact them. Industrial Light and Magic, Pixar, a charter helicopter company, the Jim Henson workshop—

  NASAW #3: Are you kidding me? Puppets? Do they want aliens?

  NASAW #2: They might! They might want aliens!

  NASAW #1: Enough. [sound of a coffee mug pounding the table] There is a clear path through all this.

  NASAW #2: Yeah, right through to the unemployment office. Better get in line.

  NASAW #1: You’re looking at this from the wrong angle. What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is an opportunity. A golden opportunity.

  [pause]

  NASAW #2: What are you proposing?

  [sound of coffee being poured]

  NASAW #1: We make their spaceship.

  [sip]

  NASAW #1: We make their show.

  [sip]

  NASAW #1: And then we make history.

  Promotion

  WITH PRE-PRODUCTION WELL UNDER WAY, DV8 SPRINTS HEADLONG into its promotional efforts. Whereas other networks might have planted seeds months in advance, building up a buzz over the course of half a year, DV8 chooses to blitzkrieg the media with a loud, obnoxious in-your-face campaign, bombarding the airwaves with ads and sending an exasperating number of press releases to anyone unlucky enough to have landed in DV8’s directory of contacts. A small sample of one such press release is below; there is no need to reprint the full document, for reasons that are plainly evident:

  Item: Press release

  From: DV8 Productions

  To: TMZ

  Date: January 20, 2016

  HEY TMZ:

  WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO GO TO SPACE?

  FIND OUT ON JANUARY 28, ONLY ON DV8!

  SPACE SPACE SPACE! SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE! SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA . . .

  [continues for 1576 more characters]

  Ads are slapped onto the surfaces of every public transportation station and vehicle in America. Catch a glimpse at a passing bus in any major city in January 2016, and without a doubt you’d see Chazz Young’s face beaming back at you, along with the words: WHAT IF THIS BUS WAS A SPACEPLANE? FIND OUT AT 10 PM EASTERN/7 PM PACIFIC ON JANUARY 28, ONLY ON DV8!

  But in person, the man of the hour wisely limits his screen time, choosing to teasingly build an air of mystique around the specifics of the project. Chazz makes his sole promotional appearance on DV8’s own late-night talk show, visiting the perennially raunchy Perky Paisley (catchphrase: “My eyes are up here!”) to spread the word and, as many sources later claimed, her legs.

  Item: Transcript of video recording

  Source: The Perky Paisley Show

  Date: January 21, 2016

  [Chazz emerges from behind a curtain to thunderous applause. He crosses to Perky’s desk and takes a seat on the guest couch, a bright red velvet sofa shaped like a pair of lips.]

  Perky: Welcome, Chazz!

  Chazz: Thanks, Perk. Are those new hair extensions?

  Perky: You bet. Are those newly frosted tips?

  Chazz: I’ll frost your tips!

  Several minutes of heavy flirting later, they discuss the show.

  Perky: So what’s this new project I’m hearing about? Something space?

  Chazz: Yeah. Something super space. Ten intrepit explorers, all smo
kin’ hot and in the prime of their lives, risking their futures and dreams and shit for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to hop into a rocket and fly to the outer reaches of the galaxy. It’s gonna be epic.

  Perky: Wow. What a show!

  Chazz: It’s so much more than a show, Perky. DV8, long at the forefront of cutting-edge reality experiences, has once again innovated the format beyond anything that’s been tried before. Waste of Space is going to be brought to you in real time. We’re talking live feeds, streaming 24/7 on DV8.com. And every Thursday episode will end with a live segment, coming directly from the spaceplane itself!

  [applause]

  Perky: And is this a competition? Will the participants be vying for a cash prize or a scholarship or something? Are there going to be challenges or games for them to play? Are they going to be eliminated?

  Chazz: [chuckling] Patience, Perky. I can’t give away all my secrets.

  Perky: Oh, Chazz, you’re so bad. [giggles] So the cast members—

  Chazz: Please, Perky, let’s not refer to them as cast members. Pioneers such as these deserve a far more dignified title.

  Perky: Such as?

  Chazz: Spacetronauts.

  Perky: Fantastic. And I hear this is all being done in conjunction with a space agency, right? Are the Spacetronauts gonna, like, do science while they’re up there? Experiments?

  Chazz: Yeah. [saucily raises an eyebrow] On each other.

  [Crowd hoots and hollers.]

  Perky: I like what I’m hearing! Care to elaborate?

  Chazz: All I can say is that we’re locking ten angst-ridden teenagers in an area no bigger than a small apartment for an extended period of time. You do the math.

  Perky: Chaaaaazz. Are you implying that this will be the first-ever broadcast of hooking up in zero gravity?

  Chazz: [winks at camera] You’ll have to tune in to find out.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, the middle of the New Mexican desert is witnessing an altogether different type of erection.

  As DV8’s promotional efforts reach a deafening, fevered pitch, NASAW constructs the Waste of Space ship, quietly toiling away inside a cavernous workspace. The size of an aircraft hangar, Soundstage G-96 is made of solid steel, is equipped with its own WiFi signal, and, unlike other facilities of its kind, has only one point of entry, making it virtually soundproof.

  ImmerseFX makes the eleven-hour drive to the soundstage from Los Angeles and begins construction on the ship, transforming NASAW’s conceptual designs into a glistening reality. Visual and physical effects are assembled, and motion simulation mechanics are rigged. Once the basic shell of the ship is up and the controls are tested, ImmerseFX heads back to Los Angeles, leaving the final stage of construction in NASAW’s hands.

  The chosen Spacetronauts, on the other hand, are enjoying a life of luxury in their fabulous hotel suites . . . which they aren’t allowed to leave. Security guards posted outside each room make sure of that. This weeklong solitary confinement gives them time to sort through a bevy of complex emotions, including excitement, apprehension, and scads of self-justification. Here are more accounts from Nico and Titania, which again parallel each other—one feels trapped, while the other is paralyzed by choice:

  Item: Transcript of video recording

  Source: Nico’s camera

  Battery charge: 91%

  Date: January 20, 2016

  [IMAGE: A dressing room. The camera is pointed at a large mirror bordered by bright light bulbs. Nico’s reflection is haphazardly captured in the bottom corner of the frame, along with the wooden director’s-style chair he is sitting in, but he is not making direct eye contact with the lens.]

  Nico: Hi Mom. Hi Dad.

  I’m doing it.

  They cast me. I’m going to be on the show.

  It’s been . . . a blur. When the producer told me, I freaked out because—well, I didn’t really want to do it. I didn’t think I’d get picked; how does “painfully shy skater kid” scream “compelling television”? So I called Diego, hoping he could get me out of it. I figured if I told him what I did—forged his signature—he’d be mad and tell me to come home and how dare I and all that, and . . . and he did say all that, but then we got into a fight about how if I’m going to make my own terrible decisions like an adult would, maybe I should have to live with the terrible consequences like an adult would, so . . . I don’t know how it all happened, but by the end I basically called his bluff and said screw you, I’m going to do it. And I hung up and haven’t talked to him since.

  He sounded so fed up. Like I do this all the time or something, and this was the last straw. Doesn’t he know how big that audition was for me, meeting those casting directors? Doesn’t he know that sometimes just talking to a teacher or a bus driver or, like, a girl takes more courage than I can manage to scrape up in a day? How I had to scale a Mount Everest of terror to even get here?

  I guess he doesn’t know.

  After the audition they put me into a windowless van, drove me straight from the mall to JFK, and flew me out to freaking Los Angeles. I’ve been in a fancy hotel for a week, soaking in my fancy personal hot tub and wearing a fancy robe—since all I have is the clothes I wore to the mall plus a few new packages of socks and underwear they gave me. I guess we’re going to wear jumpsuits or something on the ship. Bet they’ll be hideous.

  But mostly I’ve been looking out my window at the beach. It’s so bright. Sunny. The Pacific Ocean is . . . I never thought I’d see something like that. Little blue crystals stretching out for miles, for—ever.

  How can that be the same substance that makes up the East River?

  About an hour ago the producers picked me up and drove me—in a windowless van again—to the DV8 studios, and now I’m waiting in this green room, getting ready to be interviewed. Can you hear that?

  [There are muffled voices in the background.]

  I think some of the other kids are in the rooms next to me. We’re not supposed to meet until the first day of shooting, tomorrow, so we have to be isolated, but I can still hear them. There’s a girl yelling at a producer about needing more hair spray. And there’s a guy who I think is snorting like a pig—

  [There is a knock at the door. The camera pans away from the mirror to a pair of headsetted DV8 employees peeking into the doorway.]

  DV8 #1: Are you all right in here? Need anything?

  Nico: Um—

  DV8 #1: Speak up, please.

  Nico: Uh, water, maybe?

  DV8 #1: No can do, buddy. Dehydration ups the drama.

  Nico: Oh.

  DV8 #1: You’re on in five. Try to stop sweating, it’ll mess with the lights.

  [They leave.]

  Nico: [under his breath] How do you command yourself to stop sweating?

  [DV8 #2 reappears in the doorway with a bottle of water in hand and tosses it to Nico.]

  DV8 #2: Here. Don’t tell anyone.

  Nico: Thanks.

  [DV8 #2 leaves. To open the water bottle, Nico sets down the camera; it is now pointed at the door.]

  [He takes an audible gulp of water, then a deep breath.]

  Guys. I’m terrified.

  [another gulp]

  But you know what the weird thing is? I’m also kind of . . . excited?

  I don’t know. It’s the same spazoid feeling that drove me to the mall in the first place. Like something inside is hitting the override button, some little voice urging me to do something spontaneous and stupid.

  I know, this all sounds like bullshit.

  I’m just—

  I’m tired of trying to find my place in the world. Maybe from hundreds of miles above the planet I can look down and figure out where I should look next.

  * * *

  In the green room down the hall, Titania records the following video on her phone.

  Item: Transcript of video recording

  Source: Titania’s cell phone

  Date: January 20, 2016

  [Titania is also sit
ting in front of a mirror and aiming the phone’s camera at it; unlike Nico, she is looking directly into the shot.]

  Titania: You want me to explain the canoe? I’ll explain the canoe.

  I know it was hard for you to understand why it held so much meaning for me. Why I had to chop down that tree and carve a boat out of it, because, honestly, who does that?

  After our last trip—the trip—I needed something big in my life. Everything had become so small, so shrunken—all concentrated and compressed into the size of a particle, like the Big Bang in reverse. The Big Shrink. I’d get up in the morning, and when I stretched out my arms, it felt like my fists were banging into an invisible barrier, a bubble around my bed.

  It was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe.

  Enter: the tree. Hacking at its core, breathing the dust of it, wood splintering into my fingers, bending and shaping a force of nature to my will—the bubble finally got bigger. I had dominion over something. My world had expanded again. I’d kept moving, kept exploring.

  And now—

  [There is a knock at the door, along with a producer saying, “Titania? It’s time.”]

  [Titania gives the camera a small smile.]

  Now it’s about to expand even more.

  * * *

  On January 21, 2016, the world gets its first look at the cast members of Waste of Space in a special twelve-minute promo that airs during DV8’s Thursday-night prime-time lineup. Though the airtime is limited to roughly one minute per cast member, their first impressions speak volumes, making #WasteOfSpace the number one trending topic and launching infinite online buzz the following day.