“Phantoms?” The word burst from Judy’s lips. “What phantoms, Mr. Lenz?”
“That,” said Mr. Lenz, perching on his counter like an angry bird, “will take a little explaining.” He waved his hand toward the pigeonholes behind him, where rows upon rows of film were stored for future use on the program. “It’s my job to bring the contents of those cans to life. There’s everything there—spot commercials, feature films, half-hour shows—everything. People who watch these films know what they’re watching. If they don’t like the program they can turn it off. If the commercial displeases them they can always walk out of the room until it’s over.
“But here,” he went on, “is something being fed into your mind without your knowledge and without your consent. You can’t turn it off because you don’t know you’re watching it until, suddenly, you feel compelled to buy some product or, worse yet, you’re plagued with guilt because you didn’t buy it. This is called subliminal advertising, and it’s forbidden—just as it should be. Only once has it been used on this channel—”
“Was that last Saturday, Mr. Lenz? Was it shown on Teen Time Party?”
“Yes. Superimposed on the picture of the golden-haired girl you saw was another picture—a shadowy, faceless figure which the advertiser wished you to imagine was yourself. This phantom was flashed on the screen too fast for your conscious mind to be aware of it. But your subconscious mind recorded it. And a desire was planted. You began to want to be like the beautiful golden-haired girl rather than the faceless shadow.”
“I dreamed of faceless people,” cried Judy. “They had golden hair, and they were all alike. They frightened me, Mr. Lenz. I couldn’t get them out of my mind.”
“Did you associate them with such words as drab and dull?” he asked.
“That’s what Clarissa kept saying about her hair. I thought—we all thought she’d hypnotized us in some way. Why? Were those words flashed on television, too? Were all those queer feelings we couldn’t explain the result of that program we watched?”
“I’m afraid they were, my dear. But the film will not be shown again. I can promise you that. Erase it from your memory, if you can. But remember! Those faceless phantoms could be real if we once lost our freedom to think!”
He stopped, as if spent by his outburst, and Irene said, “We’ll remember, won’t we, Judy? This has certainly been a lesson for me.”