2019-06-08 - Journalistic Integrity

Sometimes, you need to get up from your desk, no matter how close the print deadline is. Kevin nearly explodes out of his chair, sending it wheeling squeakily and crookedly back from his desk. He doesn't curse or anything, just stretch up, up, up, so that his aqua-colored 'Big Data, it's What's For Dinner' t-shirt lifts up to reveal his navel. He gathers up a protein bar wrapper and peels it open to get the last little bit and toss it into his mouth. Then he comes around his table and over toward Jessica's, "How's it going?" He's not so rude as to peek at her screen, especially since he approached from the front. "Whatcha workin' on?" He probably knows. But asking is much more interesting.

Kevin's question has the effect of ending Jessica's 'eye-resting' occupational health and safety exercise. In no way was she asleep. Not in the slightest. And the way she starts like she has been surprised and almost falls out of her chair, is purely down to being deep in thought about her article. "Almost done, Boss!" is her standard response before realising it's not the editor, but Kevin instead. That means she's allowed to let out a long breath of annoyance. "Missus McGillacuddy's fake cat videos. What else? It's the kind of story that just goes on...and on...and on." Jessica covers her mouth as she yawns before checking her coffee mug. There looks to be icebergs in that brown liquid...and is that a fly? She is in boots, jeans, t-shirt (must be an office uniform), though hers says 'Remember when I asked for your opinion? Me neither.'. "What about you? Found the conspiracy...or /a/ conspiracy?"

Kevin laughs easily at the response, snapping off a salute that would get he bawled out by any drill sergeant ever. "Oooh, that's some good Page 3 material there." That's actually a compliment, by his tone. "Have you got the 'why' yet? I mean, besides the fact that it's funny as hell." The return question causes him to sigh heavily, "Look," that's the tone of someone who has had to explain themselves a lot, "it's not a conspiracy theory if it's fact. But no, I don't think the whole thing at the docks is part of some huge conspiracy. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure that the government-sponsored cartels are involved in getting the drugs up here in the first place, but my current theory is just some idiots looking for a quick score."

"The 'why' is easy. She wanted to be famous. And you can't get more famous than having a pussy that everyone wants to see" Jessica shrugs before her brow furrows. "That may not have come out how I meant it. Which is also probably what she's thinking at the moment. People don't like to be cheated by cat videos. Cheated by politicians, criminals, cops, their friends, their lovers, they expect all that, but Heaven help the sanctity of internet cat videos." She eyes off her mug once more, deciding if it's worth sipping from, but coming to the conclusion that a new cup is in order. "What's happening at the docks?" she asks as she rises; why does she miss all the good stuff? "Drug dealing? Theories can be facts too. Theory of Evolution, for example. It's all down to the context of the word 'theory' - which is a fact, not a theory. You want a coffee?"

"Always more famous than having a dick nobody wants to see," Kevin responds cheerfully, ignoring all guidelines of workplace law. Clearly he thinks she started it. Twisting a little, he leans a hip against the front of Jessica's desk, "Keyboard Cat doesn't count, right? Because I'm pretty sure the fact that it was fake was half the charm. I mean, that's what the corporations intended it to do. Charm and calm. Part of the circuses part of bread-and-circuses." His brows lift behind his round-rimmed glasses at her question, "Oh? You didn't hear? Three dead on a fishing vessel on the docks. Beaten and shot, lots of meth-stuff scattered around, but no meth. All the video's been looped."

"As much as I agree with you about government and big business control, sometimes, just sometimes, things happen that have nothing to do with them. I really don't think that 'Keyboard Cat' is a conspiracy. The vehicle for its distribution, that's another thing altogether." Jessica pours out her old coffee but then decides a new mug of coffee needs a new mug too. "No, I didn't hear. I guess Missus McGillicuddy is of such importance that dead bodies count as nothing in comparison. What have the cops come up with? The ones that haven't been paid off."

"Oh, shit, you didn't know? Yeah, that was how Google really took off. Three years after the IPO, they needed a way to expand their reach. So they came up with Keyboard Cat, because who doesn't love a cat videos, and so everyone shared them and they could gather your data." Kevin says this in an entirely matter-of-fact way as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, it's not a conspiracy, just really great marketing and data collection." But there were questions there, and he shrugs, "I've just been able to get the official line so far. Which is not useful at all, because of course the department is going to cover for the fact that they've got nothing. I thought a piece about the dangers of the drug trade and the ineffectiveness of the PD might be a shot across their bow. If it got printed."

Jessica just concentrates on pouring her coffee as Kevin espouses his latest theory/fact, this time about the Keyboard Cat. She can't deny /all/ of it but she's hard-pressed to believe it goes as deep as her co-worker thinks. There are people involved and people always talk. "Lucky I never bought the Keyboard Cat album" she deadpans before blowing over her coffee and trying a sip. "Hot!" Jessica makes her way back over to her desk, sucking on her lips to try and calm the burn. "Why wouldn't it get printed? You don't think Boss is working for the Man, do you? Maybe you should do an anonymous blog as well? Or podcast. Some woman is doing that very thing in Grey Harbor. You two might even hit it off. Kev...when you need to do research on a story, do you use Google?"

"I think that the Boss isn't the one with the final word," Kevin notes, "Every little paper is owned by a bigger corporation. They don't weigh in most of the time, because they don't want to be obvious." He glances over to the coffee urn, blinking, "Wait, it's actually hot tonight? Wow..." Popping up, he heads over in that direction, filling up a cup and adding sugar and creamer, "I've actually got a blog. Two of them. Because of course I have a blog, so you've got to have one that just covers the obvious stuff that everyone expects a small-town journalist to know." He might be joking. It's actually kind of hard to tell, with that little half-grin on his face. "Didn't know there was someone else here. What's the 'cast? And of course I start on Google. Because everyone does. But the real research comes other places."

"You try telling the Boss they don't have the final word" Jessica snorts before a nod to the urn. "Hot enough. No flavor, but hot enough to burn lips." Of course he has multiple blogs. "Do you think they ever hack your blogs?" she muses, though that will probably set him off. Why did she have to ask that? "I can't remember the name of the podcast but they talk about supernatural things mostly. So, you know, they deal with the Conspiracies of Silence rather than the Conspiracies of Control. You're not really into the supernatural stuff, are you? Aren't you worried that using Google just adds you to their data store? Tracking your research? I'm pretty sure they think I have a strange interest in cat videos. I was even offered cat products the last time I was on Amazon. Do I look like the kind of lonely woman that has a cat?" A pause. "Don't answer that."

"Flavor, flavor I can add." And add Kevin does, pouring way too much stuff into the coffee and cradling the cup between his hands as he comes back to the desk, "That's what the first one's for. It's anonymous, but just... you know... anonymous, not anonymous." Of course, he's not saying how the second one is anonymous. "Oh, supernatural stuff. I mean, that's way too easy. I mean, in this town, at least. With as much stuff as goes on in here... I mean, like killer Easter zombunnies and everything." That's probably a new one. "And no, my specialty really isn't the supernatural. I like know who's pulling the levers that control society." Spreading his hands, coffee held in one, he shrugs, "I think you look like you don't have to be a lonely cat lady if you don't want to be. And yeah. Google can tell when someone's pregnant before a pregnancy test can. So I feed it what it wants to think I like."

"Google knows when you're pregnant before you do? Wow, I just had a flashback to 'Demon Seed' then. I shall never look at my joystick in the same way again. Thanks for that, Kev." Deciding that her coffee has cooled down enough, Jessica tries another sip. Even the rubber aftertaste is not present in this batch. Who made this coffee? Is there a new intern on the premises? The subtle difference between anonymous and anonymous she will leave for another time. "Easter zombunnies? You get all the exciting stories." Or makes them up. Her phone plays the theme from 'All the President's Men' and she takes it out to look at a text. Eyebrows rise with interest at what she reads. "My contact at the hospital says some guy has come in badly wounded. Might be worth looking into, once the real horror of fake cat videos is resolved. What is supernatural creatures pull the levers?" A wry smirk at the compliment - she heard one! "Thanks, but my social calendar is pretty empty. So empty, I don't even have one. These drug victims of yours. Locals? Got names?"

"Yup," Kevin confirms as he cradles the coffee up under his nose again, "Oh, and I'm pretty sure that the zombunnies were just a gnarly dream. I mean, pretty sure. Could be some medical-grade hallucinogens, but I don't think so." He doesn't drink the heavily-doctored brew, just lets the warmth leech into his hands. "You mean like Dresden Files where the Red Court and White Court vampires run large parts of the country? I mean, it could be, but I haven't heard anything reputable," reputable, he says, "about anything like that. And you should fix that, you know. Although I suppose it's easier to get stories if you're a free agent. I mean, if you want to play things that way. I'm not above a flirt and a wink to get a story from a likely lady if I have to. Frederick Thames, Billy Porter, and John Doe. First two are part of a Portland-based Motorcycle Club. Drug runners. Wonder if the guy who got hurt badly is connected."

"Just a dream. Of course. How could it be anything else?" Jessica forces a smile at such an obvious thing. "Do you take hallucinogens?" That would surprise her. Steroids...no surprise. But surely hallucinogens are the province of the 'controllers'. "Yes...I guess I mean like the Dresden Files. The author of that could have seen the truth and tried to share it through 'fiction'. Wouldn't be the first time." And, yes, the use of the word 'reputable' does get a curious arching of an eyebrow. Move on, Jess. Move on. "A free agent?" That does make her laugh a little. "Good way of putting it. A flirt and a wink, as you put it, are pefectly reasonable ways to get to the truth. Doesn't mean you have to sleep with them. Do you sleep with your informants? Besides, I would need to hit the gym a bit more if I wanted that to work better. I went jogging the other week and twisted my ankle. Also met a strange guy in the woods who was visiting the abandoned sawmill. Probably to watch teens make out." She listens with interest to the names of the victims. "Portland. You'd think they could stick to their own turf." Jessica considers that final musing. "Hmm...might have to ask him when I go in and talk to him. No leads on who did the killing then?"

"I don't. I don't like being altered beyond booze or weed." Kev just shrugs off the suggestion that it couldn't be anything but a dream. "Butcher even suggests he's doing exactly that, connecting Stoker with the Black Court's demise." He considers the question of how far he goes with informants, "Well, I mean, not usually. Besides the time my girlfriend at school pitched me the idea, but that was more having the person I was sleeping with tell me about something. I don't think that counts." Holding up one finger, he adds, "And I'm totally not gonna touch the suggestion that you need to to the gym more." Oh, but there was business there too. He finally takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces, "Eugh. Hot, but not tasty." He makes a gesture generally up and down the coast, "I think they were passing through. Portland to Seattle. And nope, no leads. Real clean job, shockingly."

"No, that doesn't count" Jessica smiles about the girlfriend at school. Kevin had a girlfriend at school? She'll have to take away his 'Geek Card' for that bit of information. A laugh at his gym comment hesitancy. "Probably for the best" she agrees. "What does your current girlfriend think of all your flirting? So, the Black Court lost?" She needs to read more. "If they were moving through, why kill them? I dunno, Kev, sounds like someone showing who is the boss here. Making sure the out-of-towners stay that way. Which means that the cops will be paid off to look the other way. Kevin...do you ever feel that we're the police in this town? We seem to be the only ones bringing people to justice."

Kevin had no girlfriends in high school. None. College was a little different. After a while. "And I don't have a girlfriend now. And it's a damned shame that I've always heard not to date co-workers." He flashes a grin at that, then shakes his head, "Black Court got its ass kicked, but not all the way." The grin shifts into a frown, "At least, as far as I remember. It's been a while." He considers the suggestion on the case, nodding slowly, "I could see that. I was thinking just stealing a shipment of meth to steal. I mean, if they wanted to send a message, wouldn't they let people know who did it? At least let criminals know. And I don't know... I don't think they're all corrupt. There are some good men and women here. Besides us, I mean."

"They have their own ways of sending messages. If that is what happened, I'm sure the Portland guys know what is up. Depends if they decide to take revenge or just leave it. You might have a war to report, Kevin." Is Jessica envious of him? Not while there are cat videos to report! Yeah, she's envious. "Who told you not to date co-workers? Was it a co-worker?" He's only joking. "If it was just some random group wanting meth to sell, that would be suicidal unless they were connected to the crime syndicate in town. And if they are, that would bring us back to the message. If they're not, you may have some more bodies soon. Yeah, I'm probably a bit tough on the local law. Maybe this new mayor will make a difference. You have anything on him?"

Kevin nods slowly, "They might just take revenge even if it was some random guys. Criminal element in town might end up getting hit whether they did it or not." He taps the desktop in silent thought for a moment, then brightens, "Oooh, there's an angle. Now the question is, do I write it for sensation, or to try to cut down on the chances that some Portland bikers try to take a swing at the local criminals." He waves off the mention of the mayor, "No idea. I don't pay all that much attention to local politics, actually. But no, it was the editor of the school paper down in Vancouver. I mean, I guess he was a co-worker, but I think the editor before him got canned for sleeping with another reporter."

"You write the facts" Jessica shrugs. "Let the story be the sensation, not your words. If you start putting emotion, which is a bias, then it becomes an editorial, not a report." She is a traditionalist at heart. "We're not here to sway opinion, just present the facts to let people make informed opinions. To be honest, sometimes I am dismayed at what we do report. These three people died, and that should never be ignored, but when that is all we focus on, we forget that a hundred thousand people /didn't/ die that night. And they may have done wonderful things that no one will ever know about. Life is not as bad as we make it out to be. Sorry, I'll get off my soapbox now." A sip of her coffee. "Surprised you don't take an interest in politics, Kev. I would have thought they would be part of the controlling group." Her eyes narrow. "Sorry, did you just say you wanted to date a guy in Vancouver? And editors are a different breed. No one wants to sleep with them."

Kevin lifts his brows at the lecture, but he seems to take it in with good grace. "You mean like make fake cat videos?" Setting his coffee down, he gives Jessica double finger-guns, proud of having connected the hundred thousand people who didn't die back to her story. Then he shrugs, "The politicians are all being controlled by someone anyhow. That's more interesting than the politicians themselves. They're all circuses." Her question as to his personal life causes him to laugh, "Nonono... I wanted to date a girl who was also on the paper staff. Photographer. Not that there's anything wrong with guys dating other guys or girls dating other girls." Just to prove that he totally grew as a person after leaving the reactionary center that is Gray Harbor, "The reporter got more front page stories because he was sleeping with the editor. The woman editor. Before the guy editor who gave me the advice." Drumming on his thighs, he pushes up to his feet, collecting his coffee cup, "But, neither your piece or mine is going to write itself. Good luck with that deadline, Jess."

"Touche" Jessica smirks about the cat video comment. Though the finger-guns have her momentarily horrified. "Go date the photographer then. They're pretty much contracters these days anyway. Don't ignore happiness because of some silly rules...though I guess that front page example was bad. They must have got the good stories then. You don't put your boyfriends story about school crossing guards on the front page and ignore the murders. Even if you're sleeping with them." She nods about their articles. "You're right. I should try and stay awake to get it done. Be careful with that story of yours." They'll still only be about ten feet apart but at least they will be back to working.

"Oh shit... no, that was back in college," Kevin protests. "I've kind of been keeping my head down as far as the dating scene here is concerned. Way too many people who remember high school." Including him, apparently. He nods at the division of stories though, "Yup. Got all the juicy ones." Settling back into his chair and dragging it squeakily back to his chair (one of the wheels is stuck), he sets down his coffee and stares at his laptop screen, "The words may carefully composed, but first they've gotta be composed at all. Wheeeee...." and then he's head-down into his work.