Keen's Turn: Descent & Depravation

Chapter 2: Bury Ledes (second half)

Jared had a slow start Monday morning. Slower than usual, that is, for the aches and pains that plagued him. It was like middle school, all over again. Sunday he'd spent most of in bed, willfully ignoring his alarms. The analog ones had gone off again after twelve hours, to the fury of his neighbor.

He was later than usual, walking through the doors of the office of Lou's Paper. That was the actual name of the paper. Jared had thrown it out there, while eavesdropping in the next row of an English class years ago, when Lou had been confessing his dream of starting a newspaper to Rose.

"Yeah? Whaddya gonna call it? 'Loose Paper?'"

He had been joking, but Lou had liked it.

Lou was a conspiracy theorist, and his paper was his mission to spread the truth to the people.

Jared was not a conspiracy theorist, and he struggled with his job.

His boss understood that the lofty heights of Jared's moral high ground impaired his ability to disseminate the truth, and so confined his writing to boring, highly factual filler, which his colorful style couldn't help but spice up a little. Lou didn't like Jared any more than Jared liked Lou, but he also understood that, having spent most of his childhood in communion with a book, Jared knew what sounded good, and so he was kept around for editing, which was his primary function.

This worked well enough in their arrangement, as it was further understood that Jared was not a morning person, and the schedule was such that there was usually something for him to edit by the time he made it in.

For all this, Lou insisted on Jared's being on time for his coming in late, as he loved the opportunity to blow up at him for his laziness.

Jared slouched into his desk chair, clicked on the fan, and reviewed the day's assignments. Some research needed on the ramifications of the impending technical apocalypse of the new millennium. Follow up on yet another article on the cultist origins of the Ross family fortune. Edit the horoscopes. He sighed.

There were more important things on his mind today. He stretched his sore muscles, flashing back to last night's confrontation. One thing at least was clear. He'd taken this too lightly. If he was going to do it again, he had better go in better prepared. The more he knew, the safer he'd be.

Fishing a copy of the latest weekly from a stack, he reviewed the headline article. "MAN WITNESS TO VAMPIRE KILLING??" His focus derailed as he began to read it. Lou had nixed his edits around the "alleged"-ness of certain aspects of the story, and to the tie-ins to a supposed city-wide vampire killings cover-up angle.

Why do I bother?

He had thought about quitting, of course. Had nearly done so, even, despite the fact he could scarcely afford to, after a particularly flagrant article on the flat Earth model went out without his some of his edits. But Rose always talked him down.

"It's people like you need to be working there, Jer," she would say. "You keep 'em honest. Think what it'd be like without you."

With this in mind, he did what he could. For any introduction that was, by some chance, written well, he took it upon himself to "bury the lede," stashing juicy tidbits under a few lines of dryer ones, where they would be less likely to hold the eye of a newsstand's passerby. Lou had yet to get wise.

Shaking his head, he refocused on the content in front of him. The story was based on the report of a homeless man, accustomed to panhandling out of Midtown, who, after a late night, had been on his way back to the cardboard he called home, when he'd seen something unnatural.