Newshound

The Fourth Estate was highly specialized in the 22nd Century; for example, a good newsman predicted coming events—and made them happen....
Darius McLeod leaned back comfortably and watched the mayor sweat.
His Honor popped a phenobarb tablet between his lips, tossing his head and gulping the pill down without water. His moist, nervous hands left their wet imprint on the desk top when he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a clipping from the morning's New York World .
You people elected me, McLeod, he said. Now get me out of this mess.
We merely supported your candidacy, Your Honor, McLeod said easily. But let's see what you got there.
It amounts to the same thing, the mayor pleaded. For God's sake, give me a break.
McLeod shrugged and unfolded the World clipping on his desk. Naturally, the World will oppose your administration, he began. Otherwise they'll never be able to live down the Star-Times' scoop on your election.
That's precisely what I was saying. The way I understand it, you people will have to support your man. The Star-Times can't abandon me to the wolves, not now.
I'm only a reporter, McLeod explained. We report events, not make them.
That's it. That's what I mean. The attitude. You're treating me like a child.
You're acting like one.
All I want is what's fair. Whatever you think is fair.