Ch.6, Pt.3: Katherine laughed a third time…
Katherine laughed a third time and moved toward the door. “I should probably warn you that we hope to interview a 16-year-old former cocaine addict. I won’t be advocating taking cocaine, though. But maybe you’d better brace yourself.” She smiled and pulled the door almost closed.
Returning down the hall, she ducked into the ladies’ room where she rinsed her mouth and spat, getting rid of the bad taste she often experienced when talking to Blaine. Then she went looking for Lawrence, finally finding him in a small studio, editing tape. She went inside and paced the few feet of free space. Lawrence glanced at her but said nothing.
“I wish I was a smoker,” she said.
“You want a cigarette?”
“No. I don’t actually want to smoke, but if I were a smoker, now would be the time to have one.”
“What happened?” He slowed the reels and replayed a section.
“I had a little meeting with Blaine, about our lucid dreams segment. Seems a listener took offence at what she thought was my promotion of adultery.”
Lawrence stopped the tape and stared. “How did she get that?”
“Because I got that professor talking about dreaming of sex with anyone of your choice, remember?”
“But that’s what he’s studying.”
“Yeah, but you know Blaine. He’s so concerned about keeping the donors happy that sometimes logic takes second place.”
Lawrence angrily punched the button to start the tape. “It’s a non-issue, anyway. You were talking about dreams, for Chrissake. Aren’t we even supposed to be able to dream what we want? It sounds like some right-wing fundamentalist complaint. Committing adultery in your mind. I hate that. As if times aren’t hard enough, now we have to censor our dreams.” He stopped the tape again and pulled a loop of tape away from the reel.
Katherine perched on a stool. “Well, that’s the story. And Blaine will handle the complaint, and I’ve got to watch the sexual remarks, if you can believe it. Makes me sick. However. The show continues. Just help me out, would you? Give me a signal if things get too hot.”
Lawrence switched the tape recorder to slow speed and rubbed a portion of tape against its head. Katherine’s recorded voice, uncannily low and slow, growled out of the speaker. She couldn’t understand it, but Lawrence could distinguish every syllable, vowel and consonant at this low speed. “I don’t like it, but I can do it,” he said, slicing out and discarding a section of tape. He used a piece of cellophane to repair the ends of the spooled tape.
“I knew you could. Well, it’s back to work for me. I better prepare for tomorrow’s interviews.” As she left the studio she heard her voice at normal speed, gliding imperceptibly over the edit.