The Jingle

Copyright 2006 Bart Stewart

The demise of civilization followed within months of the decision by Fresh World Beverage International to introduce a new brand of soft drink. The company had acquired a pink citrus product from a slumping competitor and opted to retain the formula but change its name and lackluster image. New York's giant Sanders Shelly Advertising got the business, and set a course of targeting the family market by way of children aged ten to fourteen. The newly repackaged soda, now called “Ahoy!” was launched globally in a colossal promotion that began with the first game of the World Cup Soccer Finals.

Ahoy! entered a world largely at peace. A visitor from the 20th century might have found the spirit of the people to be the most remarkable aspect of this era, not so much the tech­nological advance.

It was in no way utopia, but rather human society in a freer, more enlightened condition than it had ever been before. The people of this age knew fabulous floating city states at sea, and intercontinental bullet trains. So many old diseases of the past were gone now. But what was this compared to the radiance of a dignified society? There was a lack of fanaticism. No longer lurching spastically between ideological extremes, some real progress had been achieved.

When that first athlete ran onto the field for the World Cup Finals, pumping his fists into the air, the explosive uproar of the stadium crowd told of a sense of victory that transcended the event at hand. The televised image of that first athlete, exultantly running a wide arc onto the field, eloquently defined a mood that was catching on throughout the world.

After the teams had been introduced that day, they were taking positions for the national anthems when the first broadcast of the Ahoy! commercial went out to a televised audience of four billion.

Twenty days after the ad campaign began the first complaints were received at Fresh World Beverage. The feedback accelerated, coming in at a rate the company could not ignore. But it was only after a full thirty-five days that the commer­cial was pulled. Six weeks after game one of the World Cup, governments all over the world were declaring states of emergency and martial law.

In the fortified basement of the White House, the President of the United States convened another in a series of emergency meetings with his cabinet and military command.

The President's elbows rested on the great round table of his Situation Room as he looked dismally down at the dispatch that had been placed in front of him. A mood of angry silence prevailed in the cham­ber, emanating directly from the Chief Executive.

(Moving ahead a few pages)

Dr. Lancaster spoke louder, “Look, it was only forty-seven days ago that the commercial was first aired! For thirty-five solid days it was mashed into the consciousness of the world. Our task force was only set up eleven days ago. Who knows how much sooner we might have started work, but for our failure to believe people, when they said ... they couldn't get the sound of the thing out of their heads.”

She quieted them with that. The President nodded sadly. He had already acknowledged his slow response to the crisis. The Surgeon General continued, “I am proud of our progress in this short time. We dismissed our original hypothesis of mass hys­teria after just two days. No, it is a genuine chronic mental illness. We're calling it functional rather than organic, but we may yet find some structural change in a subject's brain. All that is absolutely clear about this syndrome is that it is caused by repeated exposure to a certain pattern of sounds. Its primary symptom is the inability of the mind to purge itself of a repeating cycle of that pattern of sounds.”

It was with the deepest anguish that she said these words to this distinguished assembly, all of whom were affected. Aside from Dr. Van Cleave and herself, the three Marines would be the only ones in this room right now whose cerebral cortices were not being increasingly taken up by an endless repetition of that commercial jingle. She noticed the Secretary of the Interior, the left corner of his mouth twitching slightly every thirty seconds or so. He had it bad.

She tried to squelch the emotion rising in her. Somehow she retained her composure, and calmly fielded a question from the Secretary of Defense.

“Have you worked out why some people are affected and others are not?" he asked.

“I am sorry, no." she said, “That is one crucial aspect of this that we have not yet cracked. We know that some people heard the jingle more than a hundred times without giving it another thought. Others began obsessively cycling it after three or four exposures. Some of our subjects claim it is in their minds in a thundering loudness. Others say they can barely hear it, but, as with all the rest, repeating like a loop tape. A large percentage of the popu­lation apparently does not hear it during their sleeping hours. But, as you know, the majority of the affected have no relief during sleep."

They knew it very well, she thought to herself, as that is how it is with all of them.

(Moving forward)

Within three days the Bayard government went from treading water to swallowing water. The Attorney General dispensed with the double-talk in the Situation Room and stated directly that the Lancaster/Van Cleave therapies were not working. A horrendous spike in murder and sui­cide rates intensified the loss of hope as people began to employ death to save family and friends from impending psychological melt­down. Police forces were turning on themselves, adding to the growing chaos. The Attorney General did not hold back in deliv­ering his vision of expanding madness. His ringing phrase was,

“The jingle reigns supreme over the human mind!"

President Bayard, never looking more haggard, said only that he would continue with the recommendations of the Surgeon General and her research team.

While blood ran in the streets, there was concern expressed that President Bayard had not made a live television address in quite some time. And since he had also made no public appearances since the crisis began, rumors were now spreading that all his communications to the public were prerecorded. This he would put to rest tonight, he said, with a speech broadcast live. It would be the defining speech of his presidency, he said. But to Poteet it seemed that presidential speeches had been described in just those words fairly regularly for most of his life.

The day shift was relieved at 6 P.M. by the overnight­ Marines. Not being allowed to leave the White House, they returned to their quarters to watch Japanese cartoons on an old TV set. It was during a lull in the on-screen action that Anderson spoke up, “I had a few words with some of the brass today after lunch. I've been debating whether to tell you guys about it.”

“It's that good, eh?" asked Pell.

Poteet said, “I can't think of anything you've ever hesitated to tell us before.”

Anderson said, “This isn't going to boost your morale, but, it's like this. I was asking the lieutenant about the next rotation of troops coming in, the ones who are going to relieve us. And, well, it's the funniest thing. There aren't any."

“Maybe not for the time being, but they eventually have to relieve us." Pell said.

“Not for the duration of the crisis.” said Anderson, “It appears there is a severe shortage of non-jingling servicemen. The President and his people think we are doing just fine, and so here we are. The lieutenant suggested thank­ing God that we are here, instead of some of the places we could be stationed.”

Poteet said, “We can request emergency leave for humanitarian reasons. I need to get to my fiancée, and real bad."

Anderson said, “Yes, you can request emergency leave, and you can get turned down for emergency leave. Our personal emergen­cies are not their foremost priorities.”

“We will see about that," Poteet said with anger.

Anderson said, “Okay, Bill, try for it. But I am telling you they don't want us roaming the streets of Washington, and they damn sure don't want us out in rural Virginia somewhere! They just can't afford to lose any unaffecteds like us."

Poteet said, “Uh huh, well, even guys in shooting wars get some leave now and then. I will sure take this to Bayard himself if I have to."

His comrades wished him all the best with it. Pell wanted a change of subject, and popped in an episode of an especially ribald comedy show about girls with big chests who worked on the bullet train. Poteet had often found it funny in the past. For this screening though, no one was laughing.

Poteet's mood had soured. He could not stop think­ing how the program had the feel of a relic. This could possibly be among the last of all TV shows, as he had known them. Watching it left him feeling increasingly rankled; even in his bunk at night watching the tube, he had no escape from feeling the finality with which the familiar world had been snatched away.

He was about to yell for them to turn the stupid thing off, when Pell said, “Hey! Bayard's speech is about to come on!"

“Aw, well, by all means, let us see it!" Poteet said, “Let's see the defining speech of his presidency! We need that big hoist in morale."

Pell changed the channel to a news station and said, “I hope he doesn't have any microphones hidden in here, Bill."

A woozy-looking TV newsman spoke to fill time until the top of the hour. Pell commented on what a lot of pointless jabber he was spouting, to which Poteet shot back,

“Have you heard any of Bayard's speeches recently?"

The Presidential Seal filled the screen as the appointed moment drew near. The newsman's voice dropped an octave as he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, live from the Oval Office at the White House in Washington, D.C., the President of the United States." And there was Bayard, solemnly staring out at the world. As he parted his lips to speak, a nervous tic suddenly pulled his mouth to one side.

Another more violent tic followed, this one cocking his head to the side. He spoke, “My f-fellow Americans, Thomas Paine once wrote, 'These are the times that try men's souls.' I th-think each of us can relate to that quotation today ...” At the word each, his voice cracked like that of a growing boy.

“Nope," Poteet said, standing up, “Not gonna sit through it. You boys let me know if he says anything worth hearing. I'm going down to the soda machine. Either of you want anything?"

Anderson said, “Yeah, bring me back an Ahoy, will ya?" He looked up from the TV, to meet Poteet's one steely eye. Anderson smiled evilly, and said, “I’m hankerin' for one o’ them cool, refreshing pinky drinkies.” He laughed obnoxiously, and for Poteet, the time was not quite right for sailing through the air and pounding him into the historical wallpaper.

( Read the full story in Tales of Real and Dream Worlds )