"'Sure, he may be a tyrannical dictator, but have you seen his fashion sense?'" Johnny O'Reilly, host of Tonight!, spoke in falsetto, doing a horrible impression of the sitting U.S. President.

In the situation room in the White House, the real President nearly leapt from her chair. "Is this some kind of joke?! Whoever did this better get them back on the line now then file their resignation."

No one in the room spoke for a moment, since none of them had any idea how or why every screen in the room had tuned into a late-night talk show. Michael Henry, the President's Chief of Staff, pulled out his phone to attempt to call the technical support group, but stopped when the screen came on and was showing the same thing.

"Madam President, something's wrong."

"I know, it's hard to joke about it, but what are you gonna do? Pass a law to improve it?"

Johnny's monologue had already started by the time Daniel tuned in, but that was fine - he was here for the celebrity interviews. Johnny was the best at interviewing, Daniel thought, always able to get some entertainment out of even the most strung-out celebrity. He didn't even know who was supposed to be on and didn't really care. He filled his glass from the box of wine and settled in as Johnny moved on to something about some politician or other.

"Looks like our good friend Carson Blacke is in the news again. Good old Carson - name sounds like he should be a Bond villain, not a Senator, right? Maybe not a Bond villain, since there isn't a sexually charged pun in there, but villain in some spy movie, anyway..."

Laughter came from the set as Janine turned it on, and she yelled to Jack to hurry up. Johnny must be laughing at something Weston said since they kept focusing on Weston's smug smile. Johnny got a hold of himself before saying, "So he really is a Bond villain!" The audience cracked up, and Janine was tempted to see if the DVR had caught it and go back. Jack got to the room with a bowl of popcorn, and joined her on the couch, so she let it go.

"What did I miss?" Jack asked her as he grabbed a handful of popcorn and started to munch.

Janine replied, "I just started, but he's saying something about a Bond villain. No idea who he's talking about, and it looks like they've moved on." Jack nodded, and they focused on the screen as Johnny moved to his next topic.

"Speaking of Bond villains, rumor has it that producer Willy Peterson - and yeah, we all get it - is delaying the next installment in order to create "Special Edition" versions of the previous movies. And by that, I mean they intend to rerelease every movie in the series with the role of Bond Deep Faked to look like the next star of the series, bringing "continuity" to it. Six movies a year to be released on Prime, plan to have all of them out before they release a new movie with the new star. And who is this new star, you ask? Your guess is as good as anyone not named after their own genitalia, as all they are releasing is that it is an unknown actor that they hope will make the role their own. If you all can do the math as well as I can, that means we're in for half a decade of rereleases before we get a new movie. Now, I love those movies as much as anyone, but if this works out, you know what worries me? That next thing you know we'll end up with a dozen movies about glorified car chases with interchangeable actors..."

"Too late is what you're telling me?" The noise from the TV came to them before the picture warmed up. It was just enough to throw off their rhythm for a brief moment, but quickly ignored. Greg and Sandy would watch the rest of the show, but for now, it barely broke through the fog. If she gave it any thought at all, it was a brief flicker that she must be laying on the remote, before the fact of the TV fled from her mind.

Johnny was laughing at something when the TV came on, waking Emily up from a lovely dream. Whatever she had been dreaming fled before she could remember it, and reality came back. Still here. Still alone.

"Hail to the King, baby," Johnny said in his horrible Elvis impersonation. At this point, more people probably knew that particular phrasing and accent better than they knew Elvis, which made Emi a bit sad. The King is dead, she thought to herself as she watched Johnny sway his hips just enough. The women who had been watching Tonight! through six or seven different hosts probably got a little rush of recognition, while most people her age would have just thought this was a funny bit he did. Elvis had truly left the building.

Johnny finished goofing on Elvis and began to wrap up the monologue. "We've got a great show for everyone out there Tonight!" (Somehow, you could hear the capitalization and the exclamation point when he said it.)

Weston nodded sagely as he agreed, "Great show."

"We've got such a packed show, I don't even know where to begin..."

Cyrus leaned back in his chair, stretching to work out the kinks from the hours spent sitting. For the first time in a long time, he was enjoying the game for the game's sake. Competing had been fun, and lucrative enough. He wasn't going to join the billionaire's club any time soon, but he had enough to live comfortably for the rest of his life as long as he didn't go nuts. As he stretched, the Big Pretty noticed him and lumbered over. One hundred and eighty pounds of lean muscle, fur, and drool, his English Mastiff Mara was always happy to attempt to climb into his lap. Cyrus hugged her as she leaned against him, and he asked if it was time for bed. She gave out a short woof, and walked towards the stairs. As Cyrus reached to turn off the monitor, it flipped over to TV mode, and he saw Johnny finishing up his monologue. "Weird," Cyrus said, and Mara looked at him with her standard look of agreement in her eyes. He pushed the power button, and the TV turned off, but immediately popped back on.

"But before we get to all of that, it's time for the Evening Papers." Cyrus stopped and looked. He knew the show, of course. He didn't watch it, but he knew it. The remote was in his hands, and he was ready to turn the TV off again, but he didn't. Returning to his chair, he settled in to watch, without even wondering why. Mara woofed again, wondering why they weren't going up to the comfy bed. When Cyrus didn't respond, she gave a last chuff before curling back up on the floor.

"Here's a good one," Johnny said as he held a newspaper unfolded in front of him. The masthead on the paper could be made out, showing it to be from the Los Angeles Tribune. Juanita loved this bit, but she was never quite clear if it was real or if they were just jokes written by the show. The little newsstand down in the village didn't carry such a paper, so she had never confirmed if the stories were real or not. That she could have looked it up on the internet never occurred to her.

"When asked about the situation in Kashmir, he replied," Johnny shifted into an exaggerated Jersey accent before continuing, "'I'm partial to mohair, feels a lot nicer.'" The audience laughed along, while Juanita tried to parse the whole thing. She knew mohair, one of the other councilors wore mohair suits. It was connecting the troubles in Kashmir with it that she didn't get.

Johnny was already moving on, as he threw the paper he was reading from to the side and picked up another. The masthead on this one read The Utah Times, another one she had never seen in the past. He scanned over that one before tossing it aside and muttering, "Nothing interesting going on there," drawing another round of laughter from the crowd.

Johnny picked up another paper - this one was shown as The Washington Chronicle - and was saying something, when it clicked for Juanita. "Ah," she said to herself, "la cachemira. Que maldito idiota."

The rail car might as well be a party bus as it rolled downtown. Most had their earbuds in and danced to their own beat, although a couple of groups had dueling music coming from a phone. It didn't seem to slow anyone down as they attempted to dance to both beats at the same time.

All of the music came together abruptly, as their individual sounds were cut off, and both phones played the Tonight! house band playing back in after the commercial. The earbud-clad dancers stopped, as well, as their music was cut off altogether. People pulled their phones from their pockets to see what had happened, and every phone was showing a live feed of Tonight! where Johnny O'Reilly was introducing his first guest. A few people asked what was going on, but they were all quickly shushed as everyone on the train focused on the show.

The Sydney Cricket Grounds was packed full, as the Ashes tournament was beginning for the day. The players were just stepping onto the field when the graphics on the enormous screen disappeared.

"Our first guest," Johnny said, as the feed appeared on the Jumbotron and the audio rang out over the arena speakers. The crowd quieted quickly, and directed their attention to the show. "You all know him and love him as the star of the sitcom Oh, Danny Boy, but this Memorial Day, you're going to experience him in a whole new way."

The arena grew quiet, and all eyes were focused on the screen. The bowler dropped the ball, and the only noise in the arena besides Johnny was it rolling away. Johnny finished the introduction, but instead of the promised comedian, an unknown woman walked out. The spotlights and cameras all quickly focused on her, and her skin practically glowed in the lights. Her dusky pink dress clung to her as she walked across the stage, hiding almost nothing, while the wide-brimmed cocktail hat fascinator clinging to her right side hid most of her face. She reached the desk and Johnny rose to greet her, seemingly dazed. She was larger than life, towering over the host by more than a foot without considering the hat. She reached out and grasped Johnny's hand in hers, then turned to wave to the crowd. Her eyes were a vibrant violet flecked with gold and silver that flashed when she turned her head just into the light. Her height made her seem stretched out, with overly long arms and legs and the thin hands of a concert pianist. The delicate fingers ended with inch long nails painted in a vibrant crimson that matched her full lips. Her face seemed to be a combination of the best features of a dozen supermodels - any single feature was perfect, but the whole together fell into the uncanny valley, not quite right without it being exactly clear why. Her hair and skin were mesmerizing, seeming to shift with every movement. She could have been anywhere from tanned with strawberry blonde hair to tawny brown skin with caramel brown hair with golden highlights. She blew kisses to the audience, who continued to applaud. Johnny was nonplussed and looked off camera for some sort of direction. The woman slid into the seat next to Johnny and rapped what appeared to be a collapsing fan on the desk next to him. Johnny snapped out of it, and the woman said, "I'm not what you're expecting, but I promise you - this is about to be the biggest night you've ever had."