Melissa Cambridge (Rubble) bumbled into her apartment, set her bags by the door, and heaved a tired sigh. It was a relief to be done with all her responsibilities for the day. Now she was free to relax until bed time. She sat down on the little step between the entryway and the living room, pulled off her sleek high-heeled shoes and massaged the soles of her aching feet. She was a news anchor on a local TV station. She didn't really need to wear heels since she read the news from a desk in the studio and the camera only showed what was above the desk -- but she wore heels anyway because it was socially expected. Her feet were very sore tonight. As she sat there rubbing them, she remembered something she'd read off the teleprompter that day:
She went into her bedroom, letting her hair down and unfastening her belt as she walked. She sat on the side of the bed and pulled off her panty hose. She remembered the video clip of the ceremonial ribbon cutting at the power plant.
She took off her jewelry and set it on the nightstand. She draped her jacket over the bedpost at the foot of the bed and went into the bathroom to wash her make-up off. She thought of her childhood in Rubble Cambridge. She remembered her father and the neighbors cutting ice from the river and storing it in old coolers, or fridges or freezers that were not plugged in. If they filled a whole walk-in freezer, or they stacked the coolers in a garage so they filled the whole space, sometimes it took months for the ice to melt. The whole thing was kind of sad, doing all that work when people in the Home States or the Chrome States could just plug in their freezer. That was why Melissa had left. And yet, she missed the homemade ice cream that she used to make with her dad, using the ice from the garage to chill it.
She missed climbing around the ruins of Harvard, admiring the architectural details on the shattered walls of the buildings, picking trinkets out of the gravel on the ground.
A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she recalled the squat cobbled-together homes that people had built using scraps of rebar and pieces of broken masonry.
She was homesick.
And there was no better time to go home. The re-electrification of the Rubble States meant there would be lots of room for new businesses. It was a perfect time to open stores selling electrical gadgets, or start up some local manufacturing before the big companies moved in.
As Melissa finished wiping off the last of her make-up and rinsing out the face cloth, she had a flash of inspiration. In that instant, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to start a local TV station for the Rubble States.
Present day, Happy Valley Stadium...
Melissa was not entire sure how "going home" had turned into tramping around rural Rensylvania with a bunch of video equipment. The Ren Rep University stadium was bigger than most professional sports stadia in New England, and she didn't even begin to understand why a college in such a rural area had a stadium that size. What did they even use it for when they weren't hosting an international tournament?
Right now, though, they were hosting an international tournament, and it was packed with rowdy crowds of local college students and visiting fans. Melissa wasn't really interested in football, but she thought the World Bowl would appeal to her viewers. She'd brought along a handsome 20-year-old named Drew Orson (Rubble) that had played football in high school and was now trying to start a career in journalism. He was totally new to television, having never even watched a TV program until a couple months ago, much less appeared in one. Melissa had to coach him how to talk to the camera so that he wouldn't look awkward. It didn't work all that well. He was trying, and he was a good-looking guy, but he was awkward.
On the field, New England's football team was doing about the same. They were trying and you could see their potential, but they were awkward. They would score a touchdown them clumsily give the lead back a few minutes later. Orson hadn't mastered the art of following the game and talking at the same time. Sometimes he garbled the play-by-play commentary saying things like, "and a pass to Jack Davis" when he meant Jack Davidson. Usually Orson caught the mistakes and corrected himself. Sometimes he didn't. Melissa would have to talk to him about that after the game...