The City Inside, page 14
Joey manages, in a while, to find the right remote from her vast collection and switch her TV on, and is relieved to find that while he’s all over the Flowverse and the entertainment channels, the news mainstreamers aren’t talking about Indi, and it’s not just because they can’t play the video: another mass grave found in a riverbank, thousands more victims of the Years Not to Be Discussed, another set of conspiracies and accusations. She knows this is supposed to be horrifying, but her primary emotion is relief: her filters do their job, the burnt corpses are blurred, and Indi’s not today’s national crisis.
“I need to ask you something,” Rudra says. He holds out a placatory iced tea from her kitchen. “Tara wants to put out a statement, and I’m going to help her Flow it. We’ll check with you before broadcasting.”
“No,” says Joey.
“I won’t be censored,” Tara says, failing early at pretending to not be in this conversation.
“Your contract gives me control of your Flow for another two weeks,” Joey says. “And your nondisclosure agreement gives the Flowco control over any reference to your time here for the rest of your life.”
“To hell with your rules,” Tara says. “You people all do whatever you like, and I get lists and regulations and auditions. By the way, I’m trying to help. I’m going to defend him.”
“You’re going to sit tight and wait until we all figure out what the plan is.”
“You know, whatever your job title says, maybe you’re aware you don’t actually control reality? It’s already far too late. I remember the first purge, I spoke up against a teacher, it’s a lot harder to do in Jaipur than it is here, by the way, and he wasn’t even a powerful man, but he got away. You people will be fine. Your type always has somewhere else to go. You know whose career will end? Mine. Second purge, I stayed quiet, lost my job anyway because I didn’t show loyalty. Some token heads roll, the real powers escape, then the men strike back. I won’t get shut out this time. I need to say something. I need to take charge of this.”
“By circling the wagons and defending Indi? They’ll say you’re as bad as him.”
“Who? That girl, Sharmila? She doesn’t even see me. You’ll all make some deal, and two weeks from now I’m finished. This was supposed to be my big break, Joey. I can’t just sit here and watch it die, do you understand?”
“Yes. But wait until we assign you a writer.”
“Please. I don’t need help, it’s all very simple. If I attack Indi, my career is over. If I say nothing, I vanish. He’ll get rehabbed at worst, but I’ll get attacked by both sides. I have only one option. Are you going to help me?”
“As soon as I’m able to,” Joey says.
“But if I went and did something without your permission?”
“Can’t react to things I don’t know.”
She watches them scurry away with mild concern.
After Indi’s entourage departs, she finds him in her bedroom, examining himself in her smudgy mirror. The stylists have done their job well, turning the clock back to his Morning Look.
“It’s all good,” he says. “Nikhil’s going to sort it out.”
“Did you talk to the funders?”
“No, they’re not involved, Nikhil’s taking care of it. Mainstreamers, Flowstars, meat-world A-listers will be speaking in support. They’ll make alibi videos, showing me doing a bunch of other stuff at the times Raj claims I was doing whatever. The white dude’s taken charge of my team directly, so you don’t have to. I know this has been difficult for you.”
“The whole system’s worked out now, huh.”
“Thankfully for us. Really, after all we’ve given this art form—”
“You’ve got to see it’s a little weird that your cousin and his friend should release this video so soon after you told Nikhil to fuck off. And that he had room on his schedule to fix everything at once.”
“What, you think Nikhil’s behind all this? That’s really paranoid, even for you. He’s saving my ass, Joey. Him, not you.”
Joey shrugs.
“But it turns out you’re not that far off the mark,” Indi says. “So Raj had approached Karan and Radha with this garbage before, right when I sacked him, and they’d turned him away. They should have told us about it, obviously. But Raj isn’t going to be a problem anymore.”
“How so?”
“Nikhil said he’ll talk to one of his influential friends who gets things done, and he’ll find Raj and this girl and make the problem go away.”
He waits for Joey to ask him how, but she just stares at him.
“As in, he’ll get them to confess in public that they made all this shit up. And it should take a couple of days max, because even if they’re hiding, they can be found. Sharmila will give them up, plus whoever else they gave the videos to. We don’t need to know.”
“Nikhil’s friend is going to send gangsters after Sharmila as well?”
“No, he’s just buying her whole Flowco. Buying? He’s already bought it. She works for us now. And guess who her new Reality Controller is? Nikhil says hi, and welcome to the family.”
“And have you already agreed to his plans for the rest of your career?”
“Please, it’s not like that, Joey. He didn’t even bring that up.”
“But you’re going to do it, right?”
“I’ll think about it and make a call. The lesson from today is that at this level, I’m not safe. I mean, this audience I have now, they were just waiting to find something wrong with me, right? I looked. There’s a bunch of angry feminists who don’t know anything about this world trash-talking me right now. And at this level they kind of matter—the fanFlows as well—but if I scale up they won’t.”
“Some people attacking you for a few days shouldn’t be able to scare you into major career decisions. You’ve been through far worse in the early days. So have I.”
“They can troll me and hate me for the rest of their lives, just like the fascists. It’s not about me, it’s about them and whatever brand they’re trying to build. And I’m tired of having to care about their shit. I’ve proved I’m a feminist many times, it’s never good enough. I won’t change myself to please anyone.”
She wants to tell him that he’s been jumping through rings of fire to change himself to please his audience, any audience, since the day they met. She doesn’t.
“I’ve been a strong feminist since my fucking mid-teens,” Indi says. “I didn’t have to unlearn anything. We used to joke about old people, you know, how they were having to learn things we already knew. That’s why you never had to teach me feminism, when we met. I’d be the first person to say always believe the woman, never blame the victim, fuck the patriarchy, cancel abusers. So, of course, this happens to me. Nikhil said this is a common thing now, standard blackmail package. Countries, companies, everyone’s running honeytraps. Every rising star’s at risk, because no one will believe them, no one will support them. I just never thought someone could get me like this.”
“I never thought I’d hear all of this out of your mouth,” Joey says.
“Look, why don’t we talk about it once this is behind us?” Indi says. “We still have to get through the day. Until Nikhil’s friend wraps up Raj and Sim, and the support Flows start trending, we’re still in a crisis.”
“Did Nikhil tell you who his friend is?”
“I think so, but I forgot. I can ask one of the guys if they recorded the meeting, but it’s unlikely, you know? Some Delhi name—Khanna or Mehra.”
Joey’s smartatt buzzes. She swats it into silence.
“Chopra?” she asks.
“Could be,” Indi says. “I’ll ask him again later, or ask him yourself? Why?”
“Just curious.”
Joey imagines alternate universes. One where she hadn’t taken a sudden dislike to an access-Brahmin’s face and stolen Rudra from him on a whim. One where Rudra had gone on to be a slave-market trader before moving on to running his family’s shady clinics. One where Rudra hadn’t gone to his father’s funeral, where no one had wanted him in the first place. One where she’d never taken this job. One where she had Delivered a Winstreak, instead of what seemed like the exact opposite. In all of these universes, she can still find ways to make everything that’s happened her fault, ways to forget that none of this would have happened if Indi hadn’t felt compelled to sleep with every woman in the National Capital Region.
“What happens to the girl?” she asks.
“Which girl?”
It’s a good question. But before she can answer it, her doorbell rings, and Jin-Young’s face pops up on her phone, staring into the void.
He comes in with a woman who looks extremely familiar: Joey’s seen her online, and has her filed mentally under Vaguely Important and Unfairly Beautiful. Narad flashes her data in response, and Joey almost punches herself in frustration: of course she knows who this is. Zaria Salam, global lecture-tour overachiever, gossip group staple, intrepid journalist, troll magnet, death-threat meme maker, upper-class rebel icon, and constant presence on India’s Top People Under Arbitrary Age lists. Zaria shakes Joey’s hand with vigour, showing off an elaborate customised Urdu-calligraphy-around-zenana-miniature smartatt, and presents Indi a dazzling but wary smile.
“First day at work and I meet a K-drama hero and a drone tries to fly in through a window,” she says. “What’s next?”
“I couldn’t leave her at the penthouse,” Jin-Young says. “We were supposed to present options for her Flow launch this evening.”
“But of course I understand if you can’t, today of all days,” Zaria says. “I have a lifelong habit of showing up in the middle of a crisis.”
“There’s no crisis here,” Indi says. “Just an angry ex-employee trying to make a name for himself, and a woman he’s tricked into telling lies. She’s the one whose life will be damaged most by all this. She’s the only one I feel bad for.”
“You look ready for camera,” Zaria says.
“Why don’t we skip the presentation and just start your Flowstar career with a no-holds-barred exclusive interview?” Indi’s gone into instant-charm mode. Joey’s always taken a second to roll her eyes any time she’s seen him do this since their college days, but she’s too tired today. She watches her new Flowstar consider Indi’s proposal as she looks him up and down.
“Nah, I’m good,” she says.
Jin-Young’s mouth falls open in a pleasingly cartoonish way, and Joey finds her mouth is slightly agape as well. She shuts it with a snap. Indi’s face is a study, and she can see him struggling not to burst out in an impassioned speech: Does Zaria not understand what a magnanimous gesture he’s just made? How much every journalist in the country wants to interview him right now? How incredible a beginning to her Flowstar career this exclusive would be? How stupid it is for a young journalist to turn down a rising star? He’s learned something in all this time, though. He doesn’t make it worse, just gives her a half smile and turns away.
“I wouldn’t mind interviewing you two, though,” Zaria says. “What do you say, Reality Controller?”
“No thanks,” Joey says.
“You, K-Pop?”
Jin-Young just shakes his head, unsure where to look.
“I’m going to stick around and observe the rest of your day,” Zaria says. “Just a fly on the wall. I want to see how you steer your way out of this mess.”
“You’re going to do nothing of the sort,” Indi says. “Also, don’t call Jin-Young K-Pop. That’s racist.”
“Is it? Have I hurt your feelings, Jin-Young?”
“I don’t know,” Jin-Young says.
“Well, tell me when you figure it out. Joey, do you need any help? No? Okay. I’ll be waiting for your presentation then. I understand you’re the one in charge of making me likable?”
“No,” Joey says.
“Well, who is then? I can’t wait to be popular.”
“Not me. Did you sign away your digital identities to Nikhil?”
“Fuck no. Why would I do that? If you’re sure you don’t want me around, I’ll be in your office. K-Pop, you’re with me.”
“Jin-Young stays here,” Indi says. Zaria shrugs, and makes a graceful exit, pausing at the door to make sure everyone’s watching her leave. They are. There are two hulking bodyguards outside Joey’s flat, dressed in black kurtas, who glower at them as the door slams shut.
“Another self-made icon who happens to be the daughter of a rich politician,” Indi says.
He clears his throat and stretches.
“Okay, time to get to work. Jin-Young, I need you on your A game right now.”
Joey watches with reluctant appreciation as Indi instructs Jin-Young to go and track responses to apologies, flat-out denials, counteraccusations, distractions, and other responses in all celebrity sex-assault accusation cases. He is to find out what worked, sort results by region, profession, and age, and then show Indi projections for whether, if he does respond, he should tell his fans this is a blackmail attempt with a few details, or run a distraction ploy—corporate conspiracy, attack on minorities—or whether he should just keep quiet and wait for people to forget. She couldn’t have organised a defence any better herself: it’s nice to know he was actually listening at all those crisis-response strategy meetings. And that he isn’t immediately thinking of getting into bed with Men’s Rights Activists, or anti-woman politicians.
“I need to also check, let’s see, whether I should apologise to the fans for the pain they’ve had to feel because of these false allegations,” Indi says. “Give me charts and numbers. On paper, I need paper right now. Joey, I assume you have a working printer?”
“No.”
“Of course. Projector, then. Jin-Young, go.”
Jin-Young has no idea where to go, and looks at Joey in panic until she gestures to her bedroom. He rushes off.
“Joey, I need you to set the writers to work on all these scenarios. Pick the ones who’d relate most to each, yeah? When you’re done with the assignments, we’ll go through the key points of your statement.”
“My statement?”
“Yeah. Nikhil’s lining up some top feminists, but then I was like, we also have real talent in-house. And that Zaria wanted to interview you for a reason. Don’t stress about it, just get it done. Remember how we used to perform together back in the day? The camera wants to see you again.”
“Thanks,” Joey says. “You know I’m not going to do any of this, right?”
His shoulders sink. He takes a breath, reloads, and assumes what he must think is a tired and appealing stance.
“Joey, I don’t have time for this. I’ve always taken care of you. I’ve been there whenever you needed me. I need you now.”
“Taking this job was a mistake.” Her phone’s ringing, somewhere in the room, she wants to drop everything until she’s found it.
“Don’t say that.”
“No, it was. You know, when you asked me to work with you, I went and interviewed at a few other Flowcos. Because I didn’t want to work with you, I knew it would be complicated.”
“I’m so glad you changed your mind.”
“You know why I didn’t join them? It was all guys. Just a bunch of bearded horny dudes with headphones, staring into their screens, checking me out openly, not saying hello when they were introduced. Just room after room full of sweat and deo and splainboi music and just … vibes. I thought your space would be better. Safe.”
“And it was always safe.”
“I don’t know. I was fine, I was protected, you were my friend. But a lot of women came to work here because of me. And I’ve let them down. Every time I looked the other way, every time I didn’t want to see what you were doing, I let them down.”
“They didn’t need to be protected! They were adults, with agency, and doing what they wanted!”
His body language is right on point, and she feels a certain pride in how much he’s improved with all those classes. Or perhaps it’s all genuine. She can’t tell anymore.
“You were giving me some privacy,” Indi says. “I’ve had none. None at all. I need some, right? Everyone needs some. You taught me this, years ago. I was very grateful to you for giving me that space.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Joey, you know me better than anyone. You know I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I am not going to put out a statement defending you.”
She finds her phone, and can see, for a horrifying second, what his face would look like with her phone smashed into it.
“Why? Why won’t you stand with me?”
“Why should I? Haven’t I been through enough? Do you realise what happened today, Sharmila’s great gender-traitor reveal—that’s the first thing people will find when they look for me online? That’s who I am now. That clip, that paint-shaming. For the rest of my life. Whatever I do, wherever I go. I chose this life. I chose this public humiliation. It is all a result of my decisions. There aren’t any excuses.”
“This is not about you, Joey.”
“Not about … you know, I can’t even talk to you. And also? Hey, Indi. Indi, look at me. I don’t know if I believe you.”
“How can you stand there and say that to me? You think I’d touch someone without consent?”
“You’ve touched me without consent.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“More than once! When we were together. No, don’t pull that face, I’ve seen them all. There were nights, I was tired, I was sleeping, I told you, I told you I didn’t want to, but you just had to fuck something, didn’t you? You always have to fuck something because how will you know you’re a winner if you don’t?”
“That’s so unfair. First of all, it was years ago. I told you I was sorry. So stop flinging that in my face. And look, there’s absolutely no comparison between this and that!”
