t minus 19 days 10:14 a.m.
"They're going to what?" demanded Victoria Bergdorf.
Jonathan Smiddler yawned widely, displaying a coffee-stained tongue. "They're going to drop half the
list," he repeated tiredly. "They figure if they can put the money together and get one best--seller, it pays
better than the whole lot of them. I mean, why not?" He yawned again, looking decidedly hollow-eyed; a
common feature to all the survivors of the take-over.
Victoria leaned forward across her desk. "I never thought the bastards had the guts," she hissed. "Jesus
Christ on a crutch -- they're going to put all our writers on the street! They can't be serious!"
Jonathan leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "But they are. Blame the accounts department -- there's
more profit in one best-seller than in a dozen small titles. People don't read any more, or they read what
they see advertised on television, right? Jeffrey Archer, Isaac Asimov. We're competing with other
media, Victoria, that's what Spart-Dibbler's accountants are on about. And if we can't make as much
profit as satellite television, we're gonna get it in the neck."
Victoria shook her head. "I've been in this trade for twenty years," she said; "and my father before me
for thirty more ..." Jonathan leaned back tiredly. "So have I," he reminded her. "That's why you put me
in charge of the horror list, isn't it? Look, if the cash-flow had been any better ... "
"It's no good," she said, gazing at the wall of books behind him; the wall of novels she had personally
brought to market, making her personal impact on the history of English literature ... "we can't live on
maybes. We've got to do something! There must be some way we can increase our readership to the
point where we won't have to drop the small guys! Why else did we accept the buy-out offer? We
needed capital to get out of the cash-flow crunch, but I'm damned if I'm going to let them throw out the
baby to make room for the dirty bathwater!"
Jonathan gulped down a last mouthful of lukewarm coffee. "There might be a way," he said, "if you
apply lateral thinking to the problem. I mean we're one of the foremost genre publishers left in the
market, aren't we? And people will read our stuff -- or they would, if they weren't watching EastEnders
and Dallasty instead. So we've -- " he gestured broadly, his shirt bulging -- "we've got to recapture the
market. We've got capital; so why not use it? We can maximize our readership without selling ou t or
buying cruddy hackwork. There's got to be a way to apply leverage ..."
Victoria looked back at him, her eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.
"I'd have thought it's simple," he said, "once you begin to think the unthinkable. Our problem is that
we've got too much competition. So ... " he shrugged, pausing for effect; it was a shame that the gesture
could best be described as a cringe.
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