When Kevin arrives home, the screens are on. The news is on in Kevin's house, always. His mother watches the three networks on one terminal, and a slew of cable stations on the others. Searching for ideas, new stories, new experiences to create.
Kevin points to his mom with a tired smile; she points back, half-heartedly, eyes transfixed on the monitors. She hasn't sold -- hasn't even written -- a story in weeks, and it's beginning to show on her face. Too much watching, not enough doing: her eyes are noticeably bloodshot, heavy rings below the rims. In front of the monitors too much, it's like she's giving off her own radiation now.
Kevin tosses her the flyer he was saving, a glossy advertisement he was given in the parking lot at school, and heads for the kitchen.