Chapter 554 - 260: Darkroom
In Pittsburgh City Hall, next to the Media and Public Opinion Control Center, was a room with a black, unmarked plaque hanging on its door.
Only those with a specific keycard could pass through the thick, soundproof door.
The room had no windows, and a climate control system kept the temperature locked at a steady sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.
This was the "darkroom" of the Media and Public Opinion Control Center.
Dozens of high-performance workstations were arranged in rows, their cooling fans emitting a low-frequency hum like a swarm of bees.
Cold blue light illuminated the operators’ faces, making them look like biological components extending from the vast machinery.
Sarah Jenkins stood behind Workstation One.
She stood with her arms crossed, fingers tapping a rhythm on her bicep, her gaze fixed on the main monitor in front of her.
A video clip was playing on the screen.
It was footage from a Senate hearing.
At the center of the screen was a man with graying hair.
Edward O’Connor.
The Democratic Party Senator from Delaware, and one of the co-sponsors of the "Critical Infrastructure and Healthcare Worker Safety Protection Act."
Senator O’Connor appeared quite sincere in the footage.
He held a microphone, explaining to the camera why he supported the bill.
"We must admit that the current healthcare system is indeed under pressure."
O’Connor’s voice came from the monitor speakers.
"But violence and intimidation won’t solve the problem. We need order. We must ensure the operational safety of our hospitals so that we can provide continuous, stable medical services to patients. Doctors can only save people in a safe environment."
It was a very politically correct statement.
No loopholes, no emotion, even a little dull.
If this video were released as is, no one besides O’Connor’s supporters would give it a second glance.
It would instantly sink without a trace in the ocean of information feeds.
"Too boring."
Sarah spoke.
"This kind of safe, bland nonsense won’t make anyone angry. Voters don’t have the patience to listen to him reason."
The visual effects engineer sitting at the workstation was named Holt. His fingers danced across the keyboard.
"How do you want to change it, Supervisor?" Holt asked without looking back.
"Cut the second half of that line."
Sarah extended a finger, drawing a line across the screen.
"Cut it right after he says, ’We must ensure the operational safety of our hospitals.’ Get rid of the rest—’so that we can provide continuous, stable medical services to patients’."
Holt worked the mouse.
The video was cut.
Senator O’Connor on the screen said, "We must ensure the operational safety of our hospitals..."
Then it stopped abruptly.
"Still not enough." Sarah shook her head. "It just sounds like he’s stating a fact. We need attitude. We need the audience to see his inherent arrogance."
"Spice it up."
Sarah gave the command.
"Activate the audio generation module. I want you to add a sound at the end of that sentence, right in the half-second pause."
"What kind of sound?" Holt asked.
"A scoff."
Sarah narrowed her eyes, mimicking the expression.
"That contemptuous, disdainful nasal sound, like he’s looking at a bunch of beggars. Short, quiet, but audible."
Holt opened the audio synthesis software.
He pulled up the last fifty hours of Senator O’Connor’s public speech recordings and created a voiceprint model.
The waveform on the screen began to jump.
A few seconds later, the system synthesized an extremely realistic nasal sound.
"Hmph."
Holt inserted the audio clip into the video’s timeline and mixed it in seamlessly.
"Run it again," Sarah commanded.
The video played again.
Senator O’Connor said gravely, "We must ensure the operational safety of our hospitals..."
Immediately followed by an extremely short, distinctly mocking scoff.
That scoff changed everything.
It instantly transformed the originally neutral statement into a provocation.
It was as if O’Connor was saying: We only care if the hospitals are making money. As for whether you broke bastards live or die, I couldn’t care less.
"The sound is right."
Sarah stared at the face on the screen.
"But the expression isn’t enough. His face is too stiff. A scoff like that needs to be accompanied by micro-movements in the facial muscles."
"Activate the facial re-engineering engine."
On the screen, Senator O’Connor’s face was overlaid with a dense grid of green dots, each point representing control over a facial muscle.
"Raise the left corner of his mouth two millimeters."
Sarah directed with precision.
"Let his eyelids droop slightly, to create a sense of him looking down on someone."
"The nostrils—contract them, to show disgust, like he’s smelled something foul."
Holt’s fingers fine-tuned the parameters on the trackpad.
On the screen, O’Connor’s once-sincere face began to undergo a subtle transformation.
The changes were so minute that it would be difficult to spot the specific differences with the naked eye.
But when these tiny adjustments were combined, the man’s entire demeanor underwent a complete transformation.
The mild-mannered Senator was gone.
In his place was an arrogant, cold-blooded, elitist bureaucrat full of contempt for the common people.
"Render."
The progress bar filled quickly.
The final product appeared on the screen.
In the video, Senator O’Connor tilted his chin up slightly, his eyes filled with a condescending disgust.
He said, "We must ensure the operational safety of our hospitals..."
Then, the corner of his mouth curled into a mocking arc as he let out a contemptuous scoff.