Redshirts

said.
    “Family name,” Hester said. “Jasper Allen Hester.”
    “Do you want me to call you Jasper from now on?” Dahl asked.
    “Fuck, no,” Hester said. “Who wants to be called Jasper? It’s a ridiculous fucking name.”
    Dahl tried to stifle a laugh and failed. Hester smiled at this.
    “I’ll keep calling you Hester,” Dahl said. “But I want you to know that inside, I’ll be saying Jasper.”
    “If it makes you happy,” Hester said.
    “Jasper Jasper Jasper,” Dahl said.
    “All right,” Hester said. “Enough. I’d hate to kill you in a hospital.”
    They returned their attention to Matthew Paulson.
    “Poor kid,” Hester said.
    “He’s your age,” Duvall said.
    “Yeah, but I’m likely to outlive him,” Hester said. “There’s a change for one of us.”
    “I suppose it is,” Dahl said.
    “That’s the problem with living in the twenty-first century,” Hester said. “In our world, if he got in the same accident, we could fix him. I mean, hell, Andy, think of all the horrible things that happened to you, and you survived.”
    “I survived because it wasn’t time for me to die yet,” Dahl said. “It’s like Kerensky and his amazing powers of recovery. It’s all thanks to the Narrative.”
    “Does it matter why?” Hester said. “I mean, really, Andy. If you’re just about dead and you survive and are healed by entirely fictional means, do you really give a shit? No, because you’re not dead. The Narrative knocks us off when it’s convenient. But it’s not all bad.”
    “You were just talking about how it all made sense you were a nobody,” Dahl said. “That didn’t sound like you were in love with the Narrative.”
    “I didn’t say I was,” Hester said. “But I think you’re forgetting that this meant I was the only one of us not absolutely fated to die horribly for the amusement of others.”
    “This is a good point,” Dahl said.
    “This show we’re on, it’s crap,” Hester said. “But it’s crap that sometimes works to our advantage.”
    “Until it finally kills us,” Dahl said.
    “Kills you, ” Hester reminded him. “ I might survive, remember.” He motioned to Matthew Paulson. “And if he lived in our world, he might have been saved, too.”
    Dahl was silent at this. Hester looked up at him eventually to see Dahl looking at him curiously. “What?”
    “I’m thinking,” Dahl said.
    “About what?” Hester said.
    “About using the Narrative to our advantage,” Dahl said.
    Hester squinted. “This involves me in some way, doesn’t it,” he said.
    “Yes, Jasper,” Dahl said. “Yes it does.”

CHAPTER TWENTY
    Charles Paulson opened the door to the conference room where the five of them sat, waiting, followed by another man. “Sorry about the wait,” he told them, and then motioned to the other man. “You wanted to see the show’s head writer, here he is. This is Nick Weinstein. I’ve explained to him what’s going on.”
    “Hello,” Weinstein said, looking at the five of them. “Wow. Charles really wasn’t kidding.”
    “Now , that’s funny,” Hester said, breaking up the slack-jawed staring four of the five of them were doing.
    “What’s funny?” Weinstein asked.
    “Mister Weinstein, were you ever an extra on your show?” Dahl asked.
    “Once, a few seasons ago,” Weinstein said. “We needed a warm body for a funeral scene. I happened to be on the set. They threw a costume on me and told me to act sad. Why?”
    “We know the man you played,” Dahl said. “His name is Jenkins.”
    “Really?” Weinstein said, and smiled. “What’s he like?”
    “He’s a sad, crazed shut-in who never got over the loss of his wife,” Duvall said.
    “Oh,” Weinstein said, and stopped smiling. “Sorry.”
    “You’re better groomed, though,” Hanson said, encouragingly.
    “That’s probably the first time anyone’s ever said that about me,” Weinstein said, motioning at his beard.
    “You said you had something you wanted to talk to me and Nick about,” Paulson said, to Dahl.
    “I do,” Dahl said. “We do. Please sit.”
    “Who is Jenkins?” Kerensky whispered to Dahl, as Paulson and Weinstein took their chairs.
    “Later,” Dahl said.
    “So,” Paulson said. His eyes flickered involuntarily over to Hester every few seconds.
    “Mister Paulson, Mister Weinstein, there’s a reason we came back to your time,” Dahl said. “We came to convince you to stop your show.”
    “What?” Weinstein said.