Waste of Space Read online

  [CUT TO: Stock video of swirling wormhole]

  Chazz: [voiceover] DV8’s revolutionary new series will SUUUUCK . . . YOOOOOU . . . INNNNN. Tune in each week for an exhilarating new episode, followed by a LIVE segment at the end of each show! PLUS, be sure to check out DV8.com for a twenty-four-hour LIVE feed of the cast, LIVE onboard the spaceplane! Don’t miss a single second as the world stays glued to the screen, millions of viewers across the globe all asking one question:

  WHO

  WILL

  GET

  WASTED?

  THE PREMIERE EPISODE OF WASTE OF SPACE IS SCHEDULED FOR Thursday, January 28; the launch is set to be broadcast live on both DV8 and DV8’s website. One would think that the conspicuous absence of any other relevant parties—such as the national news outlets or, say, NASA—would tip off audiences that what they are watching is not real, but the list of daft notions that Americans have happily entertained includes, but is not limited to: sharknados, dinocrocs, piranhacondas, and palatable fat-free cheese. By the time Waste of Space came along, the concept of starfaring teenagers took no stretch of the imagination.

  The night before the launch, the Spacetronauts are told that DV8 producers will arrive at 5:30 a.m. to pick them up, confiscate their phones, and drive them to the launch site. The ungodly hour is by design. It’s DV8’s hope that with such an early start, the kids will be more likely to roll out of bed and into the producers’ waiting hands and less likely to wait, fidget, glare at the hideous art displayed in their respective hotel rooms, wallow in self-doubt, second-guess their decision, and drop out of the show at the last minute.

  Some do sleep until they have to leave. But others get up early, taking advantage of the last opportunity to privately document their feelings before their connection to the outside world is severed.

  Item: Post on Cosmic Crusades online forum

  Username: LadyBalwayGalway

  Date: January 28, 2016

  [excerpt from page 4 of 4]

  . . . and so it is with a heavy heart that I bid you rega kegof, my fellow Aurekalians. I go now into the depths of an adventure so profound and so pure that whilst I am in the midst of it, I shan’t have time to dispatch any missives to you, my loyal squadron. But! Rest assured that my days and nights will be filled with the noblest of planetary pursuits—and rest assured, should I be blessed with the good fortune to chance upon the Lord Balway Galway, I’ll deliver the message of support that we so laboriously crafted during last week’s Federal Summit Group Text. I look forward to our future rendezvous on Kafaldhia, and to sharing tales of my thrilling exploits and daring escapes should I survive this perilous journey.

  Watch me on DV8 tonight at 10 p.m. Eastern/7 p.m. Pacific!

  Item: Transcript of video recording

  Source: Nico’s camera

  Battery charge: 100%

  Date: January 28, 2016

  [The camera is sitting on the hotel room bed, aimed at a Nike backpack personalized with the word “Nico.”]

  Hi Mom. Hi Dad.

  It’s really happening.

  It’s really happening it’s really happening.

  Like the new bag? The DV8 people gave it to me yesterday, told me to fill it with my one personal item, plus the socks and underwear they gave me. I asked how many days I should pack for. They said, “A lifetime of fun!”

  They also told me that my one personal item couldn’t be this camera, but one of them stuck up for me—the nice one who gave me the bottled water—and said I should be able to, if it’s my one and only choice. So they checked it out and finally gave their approval because it’s one of the cheaper models that doesn’t have a WiFi connection.

  I don’t know why that would matter. I don’t think there are too many WiFi hotspots beyond the troposphere. And it’s not like I can charge it onboard. As soon as I unplug it from this wall, the countdown begins. It’ll only last for as long as the battery holds out.

  They said they’ll put my skateboard in safekeeping, that I can pick it up when I get back.

  From space.

  [He takes a deep breath.]

  I got up in the middle of the night and threw up. I did it again this morning.

  My nerves are fried.

  I can’t believe I did this. Am doing this.

  I called Diego last night. It was awkward. He said, are you sure you want to do this? I said I wasn’t. I asked, do you think I should do this? He said he didn’t know. We made zero progress. We came to zero conclusions. He said good luck, and I said goodbye.

  [Nico picks up the camera. The shot is wobbly.]

  God, look how shaky my hands are. Talking about it is making me more nervous.

  I have to stop. I’ll do another one of these once I’m . . . there.

  I wish you were here. A producer told me that the g-forces I’m going to experience during takeoff will be the strongest pull I’ve ever felt, but I can think of a stronger one.

  Item: Transcript of audio recording

  Source: 911 call log

  Date: January 28, 2016

  911 Operator: 911, what is your emergency?

  Matt: Yeah, hi. Um, I think I’ve been kidnapped by a television network.

  911 Operator: Can you repeat that, sir?

  Matt: They’re going to shoot me into space, I think? Without my consent? And I’m not a “sir,” I’m only sixteen—

  911 Operator: And you said you’re on television?

  Matt: Not yet. Tonight, maybe? They won’t tell me anything. They haven’t let me leave this hotel room for days! I’m on a high floor and I can see the ocean and it’s scenic and beautiful but I can’t appreciate it right now because I’m a little preoccupied about being forced into aeronautic labor—

  911 Operator: Kid, prank-calling 911 is a federal offense.

  Matt: No, wait! Please don’t hang—

  [end of call]

  Item: Transcript of video recording

  Source: Titania’s cell phone

  Date: January 28, 2016

  So why space? What with our family’s pursuits always being so nature- and Trackleton- and earth-centric and all. Closest I’ve ever gotten were those little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on my bedroom ceiling. So why this show?

  Because there’s no sound in space.

  No screaming. No beeping.

  According to the laws of astrophysics, everyone has to shut the hell up.

  Item: Social media post

  Username: @BacardiParti

  Date: January 28, 2016

  [selfie of Bacardi with both tongue and middle finger extended]

  Caption: KISS MY ASTRONAUT, BITCHAZ!

  * * *

  At 5:30 a.m., ten windowless vans pull into the hotel parking lot. The kids are led down to the lobby, one by one, and loaded into their transports.

  They won’t see the sun again until they’re hurtling toward it at eighteen thousand miles per hour.

  Episode #1

  Item: Transcript of video broadcast

  Source: Waste of Space, Episode #1

  Date aired: January 28, 2016

  [START OF ACT ONE]

  [A spotlight points at an empty stage. An image shimmers into being: Chazz Young, dressed in a sequined black tuxedo.]

  Chazz: Good evening, America.

  Once every few centuries or so, a generation gets the chance to do something big. Something meaningful. Something that will have a profound impact on the universe as we know it. Our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents—all worthless losers, with nothing to show for their miserable lives but the Great Depression and something called the cotton gin. Great job there. You can’t drink cotton, morons.

  And so for decades we’ve been waiting. Waiting for our chance. Waiting for the stars to align and for God to point down his wrinkly old-man finger and bestow upon us a new beacon of hope. For years we’ve toiled in utter misery, with no reprieve from the drudgery of everyday life except for our phones and the emojis that deliver us pizza. Our liv
es have become empty.

  Until now.

  It’s time, world. Time to break free of the shackles of mediocre entertainment. Time to rise up from the gravity that holds us here on Earth. Time to shatter the limits of what humanity is capable of and see how many orbits it takes for a person to mentally snap and start beating their fellow planemates with a fire extinguisher.

  It’s time . . . to blast off.

  [Chazz smiles into the camera for a good seven seconds.]

  Time to blast off.

  [five more seconds]

  Cut to the goddamn—

  [CUT TO: A swirling black hole]

  The thing is, live television is difficult even for major networks to pull off flawlessly; for a channel such as DV8, whose editors primarily specialize in taped broadcasts, the hour is an unmitigated disaster. Dropped feeds, uncensored swearing, frozen frames, cuts to static—seemingly every error that could befall a live broadcast befalls the Waste of Space premiere. It doesn’t help matters that the film crew on the other side of the cameras consists solely of the team of NASAW scientists; despite their many advanced degrees, not one of them knows how to do a proper sound check.

  But the show is live, and it’s too late to fix anything, so the broadcast bumbles along unabated.

  Chazz: [in voiceover, killing time while the glitch is ironed out] And, uh . . . for all you fashionistas out there, here’s a fun fact: while in space, our brave young heroes will be clad in high-performance uniforms custom-designed by internationally renowned fashion designer Alexander Wang! Traveling every aeronautical mile in aeronautical style!

  The premiere episode is an hourlong special with limited commercial interruption, breaking at the twenty- and forty-minute marks. (Note: In television parlance, each chunk of show between commercials is called an act; they are labeled as such from here on out.) But, as so often occurs in reality television, much of that hour is filler. The first ten minutes is a rehash of the promo that aired a week prior, followed by a cursory meet-cute as the Spacetronauts are shepherded into a staging room and introduced to one another for the first time. There are snotty asides from some of the more alpha kids, and eye-contact avoidance from the quieter ones. Stationary cameras, operated remotely by DV8, perform obligatory zoom-ins on any salacious glances exchanged.

  The NASAW scientists, all wearing identical white lab coats, introduce themselves to the kids and give a speech about the importance of the upcoming mission—none of which is audible, as the scientists’ microphones do not seem to be connected. Before long, Chazz interrupts.

  Chazz: It seems that the Einsteins over at NASAW are having some minor sound problems, so I’ll take it from here. Kids, can you hear me?

  [CUT TO: A wide shot of the cast, standing and looking into the camera. They appear to be varied degrees of anxious and excited. Jamarkus gives the camera a thumbs-up while Matt looks from side to side, as if searching for an exit.]

  Chazz: [voiceover] Spacetronauts: Welcome to Waste of Space!

  [The kids cheer and clap. Smiles all around, mostly. Their custom Alexander Wang uniforms are simultaneously futuristic and androgynous; although the designs differ slightly in order to complement each cast member’s body type, all are the color and texture of hammered silver.]

  Chazz: [voiceover] Your one-of-a-kind, out-of-this-world adventure is about to begin. Over the next few weeks, you will encounter a multitude of physical, mental, and emotional challenges. You will be subjected to the psychological rigors of complete isolation hundreds of miles above the planet. You will be separated from your friends and loved ones, with no one to talk to but the other Spacetronauts, the confessional camera, and occasionally, during the live broadcasts, me. You will not have access to computers, phones, music, video games, television, or any other forms of entertainment or communication. You will be forced to endure the quirks, habits, and grating personalities of your fellow planemates. You will be watched, listened to, and scrutinized by all of America in real time.

  And you have only one mission: endure it all for as long as you can.

  That’s it. No voting. No judging. No alliances. No immunity. All you have to do is last longer than everyone else.

  [General commotion as the kids look at one another, sizing up the competition]

  The rules couldn’t be simpler. The pressure couldn’t be greater. And the stakes couldn’t be higher. Because I’ve got one more surprise for you all.

  Whoever can stick it out the longest will win . . . A MILLION SPACE DOLLARS!

  [There is a raucous cheer as the Spacetronauts go nuts, their reactions ranging from “Oh God!” and “Good gravy!” to “What’s the space-dollar-to-American-dollar conversion rate?”]

  But for now, it’s time to get suited up! Don’t go anywhere, America—the launch is minutes away!

  [MUSIC CUE: “The Final Countdown” by Europe]

  [END OF ACT ONE; CUT TO COMMERCIAL]

  * * *

  It’s no wonder that problems arise straightaway. In the weeks leading up to the premiere, communication between DV8 and NASAW has been spotty at best. DV8 furnishes NASAW with a single phone line; that, plus email, are the only modes of communication that the two parties use to discuss the demands of production. Most of the emails are answered by anonymous DV8 minions, but every so often Chazz Young steps in to handle larger issues.

  Item: Transcript of audio recording

  Source: Chazz’s cell phone

  Date: January 20, 2016—8 days prior to launch

  Chazz: Chazz here.

  NASAW: Yeah, hi. I’ve got some questions about your previous email.

  Chazz: Now what?

  NASAW: I don’t appreciate that tone. This is only the second time we’ve called to ask for clarification, even though your emails are rife with spelling errors, logistical impossibilities, crude emojis—

  Chazz: I hear a lot of complaining and not a lot of questions . . .

  NASAW: It says here that you’d like the ship to have “a bunch more buttons and gizmos and levers and shit.” Now, ImmerseFX already installed plenty, but there are still blank spaces everywhere, so it seems that it has fallen to us to fill those in with more. What would you like their functions to be?

  Chazz: Oh, they don’t need to function. We’ll make it abundantly clear which instruments the kids should interact with and when. The rest are for decoration.

  NASAW: You’re okay with someone flipping a switch that does absolutely nothing?

  Chazz: Make it honk. Or let out a gush of air. Harmless crap like that.

  NASAW: I would once again like to point out that this is a television show that’s going to be aired in front of millions of people. You are aware of that, correct?

  [muffled noises as Chazz puts his hand over the mouthpiece and shouts away from the phone]

  Chazz: Khloe! Kourtney! That’s not what the Roomba is for! [to NASAW] Sorry, my puggles are horny as hell. You were saying?

  NASAW: [after a shocked silence] Remind us again why those special-effects wizards you sent didn’t bother to stick around so they could build and control all this themselves?

  Chazz: Because we need to create some distance there. Today’s viewers are goddamn know-it-alls—they’ll be researching and nosing around and crying wolf on the internet if they get even a whiff of fakery. The less evidence that ImmerseFX is involved—and the more that you are—the better.

  NASAW: But useless levers and buttons will give off more than a whiff of fakery—

  Chazz: Don’t get your pocket protectors in a twist, all right? We’ve got it covered. And if any of the Spacetronauts start to have their own doubts—let’s just say reinforcements are in place to make them believe.

  NASAW: Very well. Where would you like the useless levers and buttons?

  Chazz: All over. Every inch of the spaceplane. Everywhere the kids look. Keep ’em guessing as to what they do.

  NASAW: Which is nothing.

  Chazz: Correct. Ooh, and make a control panel. I think
I saw that on Cosmic Crusades. Like, a big dashboard with lots of buttons on it. And a cup holder. They’ll be impressed by a cup holder.

  NASAW: Fine. Moving on. We received nine video cameras today and several small microphones, but no instructions on where to place them.

  Chazz: I’ll email you the schematics. Shouldn’t be too hard—plug ’em in, point, shoot, etcetera. Maybe put all your mental energies into making those work.

  NASAW: But—

  Chazz: And make sure there’s plenty of storage space in the kitchen. We got a great deal on a bulk order of surplus Sovietera space food. Borscht in a tube! Classic.

  NASAW: Food from the Soviet space program? That can’t possibly still be edible.

  Chazz: You know what they say: you have to break a few space eggs if you want to make a space omelet.

  NASAW: You know, you can’t just put the word “space” in front of everything and act like it makes sense.

  Chazz: Watch me!

  NASAW: [after taking a deep breath] So aside from the filming equipment, nothing on this ship needs to be functional?

  Chazz: Nothing but the toilet. And even that can go on the fritz once in a while. Drama.

  NASAW: You know, we could make things. We’ve got half a dozen Ph.D.s over here, a combined eighty-seven years of robotics research, fieldwork in electromagnetism, quantum—

  Chazz: Yeah, and I’ve got about two more minutes before I have to leave for my seaweed wrap. Have your precious Ph.D.s quantum up some glue guns and get crafting, Captain Magnets.

  NASAW: [after an audible grumble] On to the most pressing issue. You’ve stipulated that you want the kids to be “floating around in zero gravity and bumping into things and shit.” Now, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but we cannot actually replicate the effects of weightlessness here on Earth.