Arch closed his patter smoothly, set a smile through fadeout, and turned to Kahler.
"What's up, Otto? You look like a ghost that saw a ghost." He let annoyance enter his voice. He was surrounded by the best men money could buy, and sometimes they ran around like children.
"The scrambler blew," said Otto. "Somebody spilled a pail of water on it."
In an office a phone began ringing. "Mr. House," somebody shouted, "it's the White House calling."
Archy gave Otto a shove. "Dammit, man, switch on the auxiliary. Do I have to tell you?" Otto just stood there as Archy turned and yelled into the confusion off the set, "Tell Washington I'll be right with 'em."
His eye swept the studio. "Where's June Manning?"
Even in this tight moment, his breath gave the familiar balloon-lurch as Full-Projection Studio's top writer glided from the directors' studio in her blue sheathe gown. Her wheat-blonde hair was dressed in the latest style, a yard-long, loose-braided hank slung richly over her shoulder; and her face was part cherubic, part perverse.
Another phone began ringing.
"June, I want a 30-second yak to give the viewers. You have 90 seconds to get it on idiot cards; I'm going on with it right after the station break. The scramblers failed. Gimme something soothing to say. Got it?"
She nodded and marched off. Otto cleared his throat. Archy spun. "What are you waiting for? Get switched to auxiliary! We've got projections prancing around living rooms in every suburb in the country."