"I can't talk to that," Remo said. He wiped the cord clean with a piece of paper. "I could never talk to that now. You could at least have told me."
"I wasn't talking to you. How could I tell you?"
"You can talk enough to tell me I'm an amateur," Remo said.
"That's not talking to you," said Chiun.
"Now we have two bodies," Remo said.
"I'm not cleaning them up."
"You killed one."
"I'm not cleaning it up," Chiun said.
"Kill it, clean it," said Remo. "I'm not running around picking up bodies after you."
"Of course not," Chiun said. "Why show any respect? Mock everything you are taught. Ignore traditions thirty centuries older than your country. I would be shocked if you showed any respect after all these years."
"Respect, my ass. A deal's a deal. Our deal is I don't pick up your bodies and you don't pick up mine."
Chiun turned back to the window. He was ignoring Remo.
"I take it you're back to not speaking to me again," 67
Remo said, and when he got no answer, he was sure he was right. He looked around for someplace to store the bodies. The woman would be in soon to tell him how to scan the newspapers by computer.
He found a large cart for refuse outside the office, put both bodies inside and covered them with copies of university regulations that someone had stacked on his desk. He stored the broken table in a closet. He whisked up the broken lamp and tossed the pieces on - top of the refuse cart to make it look more like garbage. Then he put the cart in the corner.
"Thank you," he said to Chiun. "For your help."
"You're welcome," said Chiun with a happy little smile.
Then Remo went out to the office manager. She seemed relieved that he was alive.
"What else would I be?" said Remo.
She told him that MUT had developed a computer program to measure a norm of accuracy in the American news media. The computers could read and evaluate material and then give a breakdown and examples of story aberrancy.
"Aberrancy?" asked Remo.
"Where a story differs from the usual accurate norm."
"Right," said Remo. "Keep up the good work. I'll be gone for a few hours. There's a large pile of newspapers in my office to start with. There is also a very unpleasant person in the lab. Do not call him a Chinaman."
"Your colleague?" she asked.
"Yes."
"We already met him this morning. I hate to say this, Professor," she said, kneading her hands. "I know it's not my position, but... well."
"Go ahead," said Remo.
"Would you please show him a little more respect? He's done so much for you."
"You certainly have met him," said Remo. "But did he ever tell you what he did for me?"
68
"It must have been wonderfully sweet. He's so precious, I could die. We all love him."
"Sure. He can con anybody."
"He certainly is not unpleasant as you said. And all the suffering he's gone through to make sure you were brought up properly. Well, we'd all be so happy if you would show him a little more respect."
"I'd like to do a biopsy on your mind," said Remo.
It was a pleasant spring afternoon, and since it looked like garbage Remo was pushing, no one bothered him or even noticed. He rolled the cart along Memorial Drive until he found a pleasant tree-shaded grassy knoll where he parked the cart and the bodies and returned to the lab. The computer program was under way.
The office manager had gotten a half-year's television tapes from the studios, the MUT name being magic in Boston. She showed Remo how to do a scan of the television tapes.
Remo did the scan while the office manager brought Chiun a light ginseng tea. She was middle-aged and plump. She cooed whenever she approached Chiun. Remo asked for a glass of water. She informed Remo that getting refreshments was not among her duties.
"We do extra things for people who are exceptionally pleasant. Or people who treat those who deserve respect with respect."
"A gracious woman has spoken," said Chiun as the office manager nodded approval. Chiun sipped the tea. Remo didn't need the water anyway.
The first readout on aberrancy of the Boston media concerned the television news. The report read: "Television reporters apparently function under the assumption that they themselves are the news."
Remo pressed the scanner. There was the face of Deborah Potter. There was Deborah Potter announcing the pregnancy of Deborah Potter. She was announcing it to her husband, Paul Potter, who was co-anchor. The main news story for the city that day was what Paul Potter thought of conception.
69
The Boston Blade carried a story on the conception. The other networks commented. In one six-month period, there were 176 news stories on which television anchor person was having difficulty with which personnel manager at which station. It not only was on the television news, The Blade reported on it too.
There was the monthly report on Deborah Potter's pregnancy.
And then came one section that Remo was especially interested in. It was about oil.
There was a debate over the Middle East. Three reporters monitored the debate between two people who agreed about everything. Everyone was agreeing. The reporters were telling each other how wonderful they were.
Someone said Egypt was in Europe. It was one of the reporters. No one contradicted hún.
Every reporter looked alert and responsible. They could look alert and responsible asking for someone to pass the ashtray. The debate concluded that Boston had the best news media in the world. The final note sounded was that everyone should listen to the Boston media, and the Middle East problems would be solved. The Boston media called for niceness and a civil rights act for the Middle East. This was logical because one reporter thought that the Palestine Liberation Organization was some sort of civil rights group. He also thought it was based in Israel. No one contradicted him. They were too busy congratulating him on his five-part series on the Middle East.
Remo couldn't make sense of the anchor people. They all sounded like clones of each other, except for one black sports announcer. He showed insight and enthusiasm, and it was a pleasure for Remo to hear about something that a reporter thought was more interesting than he was. The black reporter was fired before the last month of tapes, and none of the other stations picked him up.