Dedicated to David Cassidy
the "real" Sean Ceiran
Two young girls took the holobooth behind Nikki. The tall blonde one was muttering something about worthless projects. Her brunette companion remained silent. Nikki smiled. In her day, simple research had been much more labor intensive, requiring the use of actual paper books.
“Mari, we’re researching pivotal events of the late 20th century,” the blonde said. Now Nikki could hear--the girl had raised her voice. “This isn’t important. So what if some teen idol who sang and acted was shot in 1974? It’s not world-shaking by anyone’s definition.”
Mari, the brunette, replied. “It has an effect when someone well-known is probably assassinated. Let’s see what information the computers have. It could be more important than you think, Laurey.”
Nikki was interested now. The girls’ research project sounded rather odd. She could only remember one teen idol being shot in 1976. Nikki watched the girls’ holo generator with interest.
“Query: July 16, 1974,” Mari said into the audio command receptor of the console. The query brought up a list of results on her 2D screen and she tapped one to bring up a holo recording. Nikki winced as it projected an image of two figures in front of Mann’s Chinese Theater to one side.
Another holo of an old newscast began to play.
That particular NBC news broadcast, Nikki remembered all too well.
The girls were researching the deaths of Sean and Matthew Ceiran.
Nikki had to restrain a sob, and made a choking sound.
Mari and Laurey turned around, startled by the sudden sound.
“Who are you?” Mari asked.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Nikki said, flustered. “I’ll be leaving.”
“You don’t have to go,” Laurey said. “Do you remember this? I guess you were listening in. I’m not saying you’re old or anything, but do you remember the Ceirans?”
“Yes, I remember the Ceirans very well. I was 14 in 1974, when Sean Ceiran was popular with all the girls--including me,” Nikki said. She gestured at the holo. “I saw this news broadcast on my television.”
“That must have been a shock to see that your favorite actor was shot,” Mari said.
“The news broadcast wasn’t really a shock for me, but then I already knew that Sean Ceiran was dead.” Nikki said. “I had won a contest to attend the opening of Sean’s first movie at Mann’s Chinese Theater. I was there.”
“What?” Laurey exclaimed. “You were there?”
“Yes,” Nikki said with a nod. “Would you like to hear the story?”
“Sure!” Mari said. “This is a ton better than watching old 2D broadcasts on the holoprojector.”
“All right,” Nikki said. “I may have to stop though -- it still makes me cry--sometimes.”
“The day was a classic California day--blue sky, warm. I was thrilled--two months before, there was a contest in Tiger Beat, to win a limousine ride with Sean Ceiran to Mann’s Chinese Theater for the opening of Sean’s first movie. I entered, and won.
“Sean turned out to be a really nice guy, in addition to being very handsome. He tried to have a conversation with me. I’m not sure that I said anything coherent to him -- I was so completely flustered. I mean, I was in the presence of the guy who every girl in America had a crush on! I didn’t know what to say.
“When we got to Mann’s Chinese, there was an incredible crowd there. All of them were girls my age or younger, with their parents and screaming at the top of their lungs for Sean Ceiran.
“Sean smiled and waved at them, then grabbed my hand and led me over to where the rest of his family was waiting. It was so incredible--I was being treated like a member of the Ceiran family, like I was Sean’s wife or something.
“The guards started to urge all of us--Sean and me,
his father Matthew, and the rest of his family--toward the theater door.
The crowd was getting rowdier than they liked, I guess. Then I heard
two sharp cracking sounds, like someone clapping their
hands. I turned toward the sound, which came from a building
across the street. When I saw nothing and turned back, Sean and Matthew
were laying on the ground.
“There was blood everywhere. It took me a moment to realize that Sean and Matthew had been shot. Matthew was still alive--he’d taken the bullet in his chest. Most of the blood had come from Sean. There was a bullet hole in the center of Sean’s forehead. He was dead.
“I knelt down next to Sean’s body. The blood from the wound where the bullet had exited Sean’s head was pooling in the handprints in the sidewalk. There were flecks of it spattered on Sean’s mother Megan, his brothers, and me. In a heartbeat, Megan Ceiran was down next to me, holding her son’s limp body. Sean’s long brown hair hung in rat-tails, soaked in blood.
“The crowd had gone perfectly silent. Every one of the girls who had been screaming Sean’s name, was standing motionless. Their eyes were huge, and filling with crystalline tears. They were staring at me--envying me the last touch of Sean’s hand.
“The paramedics were the first to arrive. Matthew was still barely alive, so they strapped him to a stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance. The paramedics had to pry Sean’s body from his mother’s arms. They put Sean into a body bag, and Megan screamed, this incredible animal wail. I’ll never forget that scene--Sean’s handsome face disappearing into the body bag and the cry of his mother mourning him.
“The police were next to arrive. They broke up the crowd, sending them back to their motel rooms and homes. I was taken with the police station, along with Megan Ceiran and Sean’s brothers. Megan and I were both still covered with Sean’s blood--we weren’t given a chance to wash up.
“The questions went on forever, it felt like. I couldn’t tell the officers any more than where I had heard the shots come from. Megan, on the other hand, told the police something that shocked everyone. Matthew, she said, had been approached by some Reds from the USSR, about speaking out in favor of Communism in America. Matthew Ceiran had told them no.
“From there, the conclusion was obvious to me and to the police. Sean was assassinated as a message to Matthew, and Matthew’s wound was just an accident. The Commies wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was all terrifically scary, that there were Soviet snipers on American soil. It made the Communist threat very real to me. And over it all was the realization, Sean is dead.
“After that, I went home, to San Pueblo. It was awful, for weeks. All my friends were upset about the death of their idol. They asked me about it over and over. It felt like they were blaming me for how Sean had died. Every time they mentioned Sean, it was a fresh knife in my heart.
“Anti-Communist hysteria kicked up again, but I just wanted the fuss to end. My father sat on the front porch with a 12-gague shotgun to keep the news reporters away from me. I laid awake at night, staring at the poster of Sean on the ceiling above my bed. Running through my mind over and over again was the question--Why did he have to die? I couldn’t even cry for Sean.
“Eventually, I buried my love for Sean and my memories so deep that I could believe that it hadn’t happened. After awhile, I managed to get back to something close to a normal life. Sean’s brother Luke became the next big heart-throb, and memory of Sean just sort of drifted away.
“I was normal up until December of 1998. I was shopping for Christmas presents for my nieces. I went into a record store to buy some music for them. As I was looking through the piles of CD’s, one caught my eye. I picked it up and looked at it, and it was a re-release of one of Sean’s old albums. I broke down in the middle of the store and started to cry. I finally managed to cry for Sean Ceiran. Mall security hauled me into a back room somewhere, and I finished out my cry.
“I drove back to my apartment and cried for almost a week. I was finally mourning for the man that I had loved so dearly. When I was done crying, I finally knew that my dream of being Sean’s wife could never have come true, and Sean’s death hadn’t changed that fact.”
“Wow,” Laurey gasped. “That must have been horrible if you loved Sean that much.”
“Was Sean really that handsome?” Mari asked.
Nikki smiled, though it was an effort. “Every bit as handsome as in that holo. I believe that you’ll be needing my name for your project, correct?”
Mari nodded.
“I’m Nikki Aral,” Nikki said. “Two k’s in Nikki, and last name spelled A-R-A-L.”
Mari scribbled it down into her palm computer. “Thank you so much. Your story made it all seem so much more real, you know?”
“Thank you,” Nikki said. “And now, I really must be going. Thank you for listening to an old woman’s ramblings.” Nikki opened the door and disappeared into the whirling snow.
Laurey was staring at the 2D screen on the terminal. Mari was startled by her rigid posture. Laurey looked almost afraid.
“Laurey, what is it?” Mari asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I did a search for Nikki’s name in the database,” Laurey said, voice trembling. “I thought I could find something about her winning the contest...I don’t know. But look at this article, from the San Pueblo Herald in 1998!”
Mari leaned in to read the newspaper article on the screen.
Local Celebrity Dies
The body of Nikki Aral, a lifelong
resident of San
Pueblo, was discovered yesterday.
The body was found
in her home after a co-worker at Imperial
Data Systems
became worried over her prolonged
absence from her
job. She died of a massive heart
attack sometime on
Saturday.
Nikki’s celebrity status came
from her witness of
the 1974 assassination of Sean Ceiran
at Mann’s
Chinese Theater. She had won
a contest that granted
her the privilege of riding in a limousine
with the
star and sitting next to him in the
theater. Nikki
was active in volunteer work and will
be greatly
missed.
“So who just told us that story?” Mari asked, looking up at Laurey with wide eyes. Laurey only shook her head.
The image of Nikki in the holo of Sean Ceiran and Nikki Aral, hand in hand in front of Mann’s Chinese Theater, winked. The two figures turned and entered the door, and the hologram fizzed out.