Transmission

φαντασία watched as the world in the arena accelerated almost instantly and time around him sped up. From his perspective both contestants the spirits almost looked frozen. They would remain that way until the audience had voted, then he would slow down time, give them a few moments to marble at what had happened before revealing the results.

He walked stretched the body he had made to look older and more fragile, cracking his joints and assuming an upright gait once again. The wrinkles on his forehead marking him as an older man flatten out and his white hair turns a healthy brown. He grabs the cup of wine. “I’m sorry.” He whispers into Chris’s ear. Then he makes his way out of the arena and off the artificial island, resembling a small Polis.

Φαντασία looks pissed as he slams open the door to his superviser’s office. “Can you tell me why the fuck these almighty producers are so damn incompetent? I invested a good deal of my own power to set this up. All you had to do was abduct them. How hard can it be to not mess that up?”

The woman in a black suit and tie looks at him unimpressed. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. φαντασία?”

Φαντασία looks at her and then pours the rest of the wine on her. “This is the problem. Notice how it is wet and sticky and smells? Notice how we are not on the island? Do you know what that means?”

The representative looks at him exasperated: “No?”

Φαντασία looks incredulous. “No? You know why the island was created? So that the ideas you **** could actually have physical bodies and we could safely simulate their powers, until transformation anker them so much that they don’t dissipate once off the island. Because abducting ACTUAL gods is too dangerous? Guess what, someone fucked up and know our fake Dionysos summoned real wine. Real wine that exists outside of the show. Someone **** my contestants and made them real. Gave them real powers.”

“So, what is the problem? This doesn’t seem to impact the show much. Just give them their transformations and move on.” The representative says.

“Are you dense? These gods are real and they have real power. Not a lot, luckily for all of us, but enough to screw with the budget. The fancy set pieces? The challenges that mess with your mind? We have to throw all of them out, just to supress their powers. Hide and Seek in Non-Euclidian space? Gone, can’t afford it. Catch in four dimensions? Unfortunately time manipulation is outside of our budget now, I guess we’re just playing normal catch now. Nothing to say of sending them home. I’m going to have to dedicate a lot of my power just to stop them from killing the master for the rest of his live. I want to be reimbursed or I’m throwing in the gauntlet. See how you manage to control this season.”

For the first time the assistant looks serious: “Mr. φαντασία you agreed to run this season and assume the risks. If you stop running it we will cash in the contractual penalty and that is a lot more than the small bit you will lose over the next 60 or so years. Now as your representative I can send a request to the higher ups to temporarily loan you some power for the sake of the show. But some of the more extravagant things will have to be cut.”

Φαντασία takes a deep breath. Maybe this was salvageable after all. “Tell them, if they can supress most of the godly powers I can do the rest. You should still investigate what the fuck happened during abduction. None of them should be real except the master. And somehow you fucked up so badly that they now exist outside of the framework of the show. They literally made people and gods come into existence.”

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Sometime later

The overseer looks over the screen of her computer at a still angry φαντασία. “Good news the producers still like your show. In fact, they said our mishap added stakes.”

Φαντασία looks about ready to kill someone. “Stakes? Stakes? You ruined my whole meta-narrative about how storytelling only works if there is a listener. The entire point was that the characters only become real, because of their interaction with the master. Only through Reception do stories become alive. This is an insult to my work. I demand…”

“You will demand nothing, φαντασία. We have an agreement for you to do the show. What I was about to say is that the producers recognize that the budget had to be increased. They sent someone to help with the gods’ powers and to help out elsewhere around the season.”

For a moment there is silence in the room. Φαντασία mulls over the situation, her forehead wrinkling as she considers the thinly veiled threat. She could afford a lot going wrong but not breaking this contract.

“So who is this helper?” φαντασία asks eventually.

“Glad you asked, Ειρωνεία please come in.”

Behind φαντασία the office door opens and a young red haired woman enters the room. She is quite short, but nonetheless attractive. She reaches out a hand towards φαντασία.

“Hello, I am Ειρωνεία, pleased to meet you. So you are the Host that I’m supposed to support? Let me just say Sir it is an honor. I’ll be an eager student for everything.”

“student?” φαντασία raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. One day I want to host a season myself, but because I lack experience and can’t cover a lot of the requirements myself, the producers sent me here so I can get both.” Ειρωνεία with a big smile across her face.

Φαντασία looks less enthused and turns towards the assistant:” You gave me a trainee? I need a professional. I need someone who knows what they are doing. This is not a job for her.”

The assistant doesn’t react much, instead typing something into the computer. “She is all you are getting. She will be watching what you’re doing and help you with the gods. Either you take the help or you deal with this alone, but my bosses have made it quite clear that she is the only help you are getting.”

“Fine”, φαντασία grumbles. “ I need someone to take care of the master suite anyways. Ειρωνεία how do you look in a maid outfit?”

The young woman looks up at her new mentor sceptically. “Is that really necessary? It’s not like I won’t just be using magic for everything.”

“Even I can’t escape some traditions. If a person takes care of the master suite they are wearing a maid costume. Normally I would have put whichever shade got that job into one.”

“Fine, I guess. As long as I get to see what is happening behind the scenes and won’t be in the master bedroom all the time.” As soon as she says that Ειρωνεία’s normal streetwear is replaced by a french maid outfit. “Wow, this is the real thing. It’s not even one of those porn-parody-versions.” She says.

Φαντασία grins. "No, we wouldn’t want you taking away points from the contestants, would we now? But Let’s return. You need a tour of the place, in the next three days. I will be in the time bubble until it’s time to announce transformations, if anyone needs me.”