Sitting in his living room, James White stared at the ending credits of the show he had just watched, the last episode finishing in the same manner as the previous 23. Then, standing up, White slowly crosses the room to eject the cassette from his TV, looking at the label denoting the name of the episode and length of the same.
"The Price of War," White spoke gently, softly, as if tasting the words to see if they made sense or fit within his work. A slow nod followed, his mind going through the happenings again, a piece he had written last year but nearly scrapped altogether because he hadn't liked what it spoke of, what it entailed, and the viewpoints said within. Above that, it just hadn't fit within the setting and the characters, so it almost went into the bin.
Until he got a call from someone wanting to produce a show based upon Sector General, seeking his approval or refusal. To say that the realization of said person being from the other side of the world and economic ideology had been a shock was to call a sleeping cat uncomfortable.
And yet, he hadn't seen the reason to refuse. After all, what was the worst that could happen? That they slandered his work to shoehorn in their propaganda, causing him trouble with the government? He had given them the okay but refused the money to stave just such accusations off, on the off chance that they would produce a lasting legacy in the minds of the newer generations he couldn't do with books alone.
Putting the cassette into its box with the others, he turned to the kitchen, Peggy having called him to help her deck the table. A smile was on his lips, and a vigor in his steps, feeling younger and more hopeful for a better future than ever. The show had been more faithful than any counterpart produced in the West would have been.
