dangling feet, enjoying the sight of my painted toenailsâCitrus Sensations nail polish borrowed from Lia.
Next, Dr. Kanavan listens to my heart with the stethoscope and tests my reflexes. She takes a blood sample. Media1 doctors are vigilant about disease control. Family Mapping hates the wild card illnesses can throw inâfelling random Characters, skewing demographics.
Dr. Kanavan scrutinizes me, then clucks with disapproval. âNettie, I can see that youâre still not following your Skin Sequence.â Sheâs right. Most of the time, when choosing between more sleep or the fifteen minutes it takes to apply the Media1 lotions and exfoliants, I choose sleep.
âI know. Iâll do better.â
Dr. Kanavan raises her overly plucked eyebrows, and I feel a twinge of annoyance. Does she really think the Skin Sequence is going to help my ratings? Iâll always have more of a sidekickâs face than a starâs.
âYou might not see the point now, but when youâre older, youâll get that being camperf is sometimes the key to keeping fans.â She walks over to her cabinet and puts back the vaccines and my file. âYou have a duty to the Audienceâkeep them happy by giving them something pleasing to look at.â
âOkay, thanks.â I hoist myself off the table. As I walk back to the changing screen in the corner, I glimpse a thick stack of magazines resting on a stand next to an eye chart. A lab coat lies over them, but about half of the cover of the top magazine is visible. I eagerly read it: âTen Ways to Save on Groceriesâ . . . âI Was a Drowned Lands Hostage.â Yikes. Seems like Zenta is definitely the right move for Dr. Kanavan.
I slip behind the metal changing screen and examine my blurry reflection in it, needing to assure myself my skin isnât that bad. Even, olive tone, like my grandmotherâs. Relatively smooth. But my hair seems worse than it was earlier. To put it bluntly, it looks like I stuck my fingers in an electric socket. If my ratings were good, sure, I could make the case that messy hair was an admirable quirk. But theyâre not, Iâm on the E.L., and I need to do everything I can to get off. Which means setting the alarm early tomorrow so I have time to do the Skin Sequence before Lia comes over.
â¢Â â¢Â â¢
The setting sun turns the scripted sky fiery as I bike home. I keep thinking about Belle. She
was
out of place in her gregarious, glamorous family. Scoopâs dad is a lawyer, known for his courtroom eloquence, and his mom is a photographer, always running around the island in a fedora and sunglasses, snapping pictures for newspapers and magazines. His aunt, my old history teacher, was pretty personable too, albeit somewhat eccentric.
Belle didnât fit.
The Cannerys live in the kind of house good ratings can buy. I bet Belleâs ratings target was high, too, like mine. Media1 might not have expected her to be at the center of scenes, but they must have expected her to be a good foil for her brother and parents.
A tricky situation. I should know. My ratings targets used to be low, but crept up as Lia and I became closer. My marks, the actual number of Audience members who watched me every quarter, went up too, but sometimes it seemed like that didnât matter. To determine your ratings payment, Media1 doesnât only count the number of Reals watching you, but whether that number is more or less than the target their formula predicted.
Mik showed me the formula that generates targets. I saw all the variables, what Media1 takes into consideration to predict your mark. Number of Special Events Attended, Character Age, Previous Quarterâs Screentime. Friendsâ Average Marks. Thatâs the one that keeps mine high. Thereâs one for Familyâs Average Marks. Thatâs probably what doomed Belle. But who knows? The formula is so complex. How does it go?
Next, Dr. Kanavan listens to my heart with the stethoscope and tests my reflexes. She takes a blood sample. Media1 doctors are vigilant about disease control. Family Mapping hates the wild card illnesses can throw inâfelling random Characters, skewing demographics.
Dr. Kanavan scrutinizes me, then clucks with disapproval. âNettie, I can see that youâre still not following your Skin Sequence.â Sheâs right. Most of the time, when choosing between more sleep or the fifteen minutes it takes to apply the Media1 lotions and exfoliants, I choose sleep.
âI know. Iâll do better.â
Dr. Kanavan raises her overly plucked eyebrows, and I feel a twinge of annoyance. Does she really think the Skin Sequence is going to help my ratings? Iâll always have more of a sidekickâs face than a starâs.
âYou might not see the point now, but when youâre older, youâll get that being camperf is sometimes the key to keeping fans.â She walks over to her cabinet and puts back the vaccines and my file. âYou have a duty to the Audienceâkeep them happy by giving them something pleasing to look at.â
âOkay, thanks.â I hoist myself off the table. As I walk back to the changing screen in the corner, I glimpse a thick stack of magazines resting on a stand next to an eye chart. A lab coat lies over them, but about half of the cover of the top magazine is visible. I eagerly read it: âTen Ways to Save on Groceriesâ . . . âI Was a Drowned Lands Hostage.â Yikes. Seems like Zenta is definitely the right move for Dr. Kanavan.
I slip behind the metal changing screen and examine my blurry reflection in it, needing to assure myself my skin isnât that bad. Even, olive tone, like my grandmotherâs. Relatively smooth. But my hair seems worse than it was earlier. To put it bluntly, it looks like I stuck my fingers in an electric socket. If my ratings were good, sure, I could make the case that messy hair was an admirable quirk. But theyâre not, Iâm on the E.L., and I need to do everything I can to get off. Which means setting the alarm early tomorrow so I have time to do the Skin Sequence before Lia comes over.
â¢Â â¢Â â¢
The setting sun turns the scripted sky fiery as I bike home. I keep thinking about Belle. She
was
out of place in her gregarious, glamorous family. Scoopâs dad is a lawyer, known for his courtroom eloquence, and his mom is a photographer, always running around the island in a fedora and sunglasses, snapping pictures for newspapers and magazines. His aunt, my old history teacher, was pretty personable too, albeit somewhat eccentric.
Belle didnât fit.
The Cannerys live in the kind of house good ratings can buy. I bet Belleâs ratings target was high, too, like mine. Media1 might not have expected her to be at the center of scenes, but they must have expected her to be a good foil for her brother and parents.
A tricky situation. I should know. My ratings targets used to be low, but crept up as Lia and I became closer. My marks, the actual number of Audience members who watched me every quarter, went up too, but sometimes it seemed like that didnât matter. To determine your ratings payment, Media1 doesnât only count the number of Reals watching you, but whether that number is more or less than the target their formula predicted.
Mik showed me the formula that generates targets. I saw all the variables, what Media1 takes into consideration to predict your mark. Number of Special Events Attended, Character Age, Previous Quarterâs Screentime. Friendsâ Average Marks. Thatâs the one that keeps mine high. Thereâs one for Familyâs Average Marks. Thatâs probably what doomed Belle. But who knows? The formula is so complex. How does it go?