. . .

Plastic

If I could quit, I would. I would in a heartbeat.

The fame is nice, I suppose, though I'm not really the one getting the fame - take off the head, and no one would recognize me. The money is nicer, and that's all mine. After all, what with residuals, commercials score the big bucks.

The problem is... no, I have to start at the beginning. That's what my English teacher used to yell at me for - not starting at the beginning, getting right into my stories without giving background, first. All right, background.

So I was sitting around in this restaurant, eating a burger. The place was empty - this was right after the whole e. coli deal - and I was wondering what the hell I was doing there. Still, you can't beat cheap burgers. Especially not when you've just been fired from a gig a monkey could do. I wore a sandwich board. I used to.

Not entirely empty. There was this one table in the corner, with two guys in cheap business suits sitting at it. No food, just an argument. I was concentrating on my own problems, and the presence of other people's were getting in the way of a good long bout of selfpity, so I got up and headed over to their table. "'Scuse me."

"Yeah?" That was the bigger one, a side of meat who looked like a thug - lots of muscles, no brains. Talked like it too. That was Phil. I later learned he had an Ph.D. in Sociology and another in Psychology. Can't judge by appearances.

"Would you mind keeping it down? I'm trying to eat over here."

"You got a job?" That was the little one, the weasel. Looked like he left a thin trail of slime wherever he went. Sometimes you can judge by appearances. That was Alexander, "call me Alex, man." Only he hadn't said that yet.

"Uh... no, why?"

"You interested in one?" Alex again.

"Doing what?"

"Something that could turn bigtime. You look like an actor. You an actor?"

I had been in a few plays, back in college, before I dropped out, and had been big with the girls as a result, which I felt entitled me to say, "Yeah. What kind of work?"

"You wear a big plastic ball on your head, and you get filmed doing it."

"For who?"

"Look around you, my man."

I looked around blankly for a moment. Then the light started to dawn. "You mean..."

"You got it, man. You're gonna be Jack."

I never learned what made Alex decide that I was the right one for the job. Phil claims that it was a "statistical deviation from the mean at the proper juncture to ensure a cognitive throwforward toward epiphany", but Phil talks like that sometimes. All I knew was, before I breathed hard, I was in front of the cameras, and in another few days, I was being shown across America.

It was great, at first. Of course, at first. If it hadn't been "at first", I wouldn't have started the story talking about how I would quit if I could. Sorry, stupid of me. It was just that...

About a year after that, I was sitting around chatting with Phil, who was going off on a new theory he had read about that he was real excited about, me taking in about one word in three. It occurred to me to ask something I'd been wondering about, and when Phil paused for a moment, I took the chance.

"Phil? I was taking a look at the head the other day when I had a few minutes, and I noticed it had a panel in the side. It's kinda flush with the rest of the head, so it's hard to see, but it was there."

Phil's face went blank. I mean, like totally. Like he switched off, or something.

I went on, obliviously. "So I jammed a screwdriver in there, and I opened it up, and it's full of, like, electronics stuff. Circuit boards, and stuff. Explains why the damn thing is so heavy, I guess. So I was wondering..."

Phil stood up. And he, you know, like loomed over me. Still with that blank look on his face. For the first time almost since I met him, I saw how damn big he was. I stuttered to a halt.

Phil just looked at me for a while. And then he said, "You don't ask that. You don't open it again, you don't notice it again, and you never. Ever. Say anything about it again. Am I clear?"

I looked back at him. "You're clear."

"Good." And he left.

After that, I quietly investigated my contract. I had a lawyer check it out, which I really should've done when I signed it, but I needed the money bad enough I didn't want to jinx it. The lawyer told me that I didn't have to worry, I would get a more than fair chunk of change. "Some pretty hefty nondisclosure agreements in there, though. If you ever say anything they don't want you to say, you're in breach of contract, and they can get you put away for serious time. And there's no time limit on the contract - they have the option to renew as long as they want to keep paying you. Aside from that, it's a good deal. I'd see if you can get the time limit renegotiated, in case you ever want to change career paths, though. They gave away enough monetarily that they didn't have to that the time limit thing is probably just an oversight."