Truman walked briskly through the bright white corridors that were lined with doors. As he peered through, he saw they were dark rooms with panels of television sets on one side. A group of people had gathered in one corner and they were talking intently to each other. When Truman looked back at the monitors, he only saw snow. He came to realise why the screens had no picture and you could see the whites of his eyes as he turned and fled down the spiral staircase at the end of the corridor.
Thoughts were madly chasing each other around Truman's head. It's true. There really is a television show, all about me. Disorientated, he wandered through a large library of film canisters and stumbled across a fire exit.
As the doors opened, the sun blinded him momentarily. All he could hear was the blood roaring through his ears and his own panting.
Slowly Truman brought his gaze down from the sky and the atmosphere around him became more apparent. Gradually, everyone along the street turned to face him. Bizarrely there were no cars to be seen.
Truman became bewildered when everyone around him began to cheer! Strangely nothing seemed to be moving.
Then a flash caught his eye. At the end of the street someone was running towards him.
Her desperate cry, confirmed Truman's suspicions and he, too, started to run. It was as if there was no one else in the world but them.
At last they reached each other and embraced. Her long hair cascaded over his shoulders. Now both were crying, but neither would let go. Not Truman, nor Sylvia.
5 Years Later – 2010
In this small passage of writing I hope to give you an insight into my life between the years 2009 and 2011.
New Year's Day 2009, I once again watched the annual appeal made on television by Christof for my return to the studio in Hollywood. It had become a tradition that after watching the heart-warming but cruel display, that I would spend the rest of the day in the attic conversion watching 'The Best Of The Truman Show' on DVD. Each year I made a diary of all the global natural and man made disasters. After watching those as well, my thoughts drifted to Sylvia.
We had stayed together for barely eighteen months. We both had different ideas of where we wanted to go in life. Sylvia wanted to carry on living in Fiji, but my fear of water returned after the storm Christof had created. Being on the island brought back horrible memories of Sea Haven. It was impossible for me to live an ordinary life after my experience. The press camped outside our house for at least a year before they found some other people to pester. But even now a few reporters still stalk me.
I couldn't hide from the press forever and the rest if the world's economy suffered tremendously too. It was difficult for the actors to find a suitable jobs let alone a job for me. But I needed some income.
In the year of 2010 I realised this. And it was then that I went back to Christof. I had had no idea of the real world and after 5 years I was still learning. Christof was merely protecting me from a world where he only knew of hatred and suffering, so in some ways I was always going to be in his debt.
The year that followed was made up of meetings and press conferences, photo shoots and handshakes. I tried to bury myself in my work, as I wanted to forget my undying love for Sylvia. Occasionally I thought I spotted her in the crows at some public interviews, but it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I forced myself to remember one thing: she left you.
Eventually she did leave my thoughts and I was able to concentrate on helping Christof start a new show. On New Year's Day 2011, The Sara Show was launched. It was to be closely directed by Christof and myself. All of the faithful actors from the Truman Show were called back to help out.
That year was very rewarding for me. And now I completely understand Christof's reasons for the fake storm. I had a few changes I wanted to make to ensure the best for Sara. I made an agreement that the security would be the highest ever, until she reached the age of 30. Then the standards would slip and hopefully she would find out the truth slowly but easily. Also I wanted her to have a certain amount of pain in her life, not so much that it's cruel, but enough to be realistic. But I was very content but the time Sara reached the age of one.
10 years later – 2020
Truman slammed down the receiver so hard that the phone cracked down the side. Then he turned to look at the man who was behind him.
"Well," Truman said trying hard to keep his voice steady and calm, "I'm not sure that that was worth getting up early."
The man was looking at Truman intently, wondering what was going through his mind. The sudden outburst from Truman didn't startle him; he had had this happen many times before. In an instant he knew who the telephone call was from, a British newspaper had blamed Truman for the world's economic collapse. Also the Sara Show was not going well, despite all of the improvements from Truman.
"Here," he said, "You go and sit down and watch some TV, whilst I make you a nice cup of tea."
"Well, I suppose…"
The man went into the kitchen. Their apartment had two bedrooms and was quite small but very stylish. The main attraction was that the flat was attached to the studio. The room was tiny with very few cupboards. The man took a mug from the shelf then filled the kettle from the tap.
After checking no one was around he slipped a small bottle out of his trouser pocket; it had a colourless liquid inside, which he poured into the cup.
Truman held the mug of steaming tea in his hands. He tried to let his thoughts drift away with the steam.
The man stood in the corner watching Truman closely. Suddenly Truman was violently vomiting on the floor. With every retch he grew more faint and eventually collapsed.
The man, who had remained motionless through this entire display, moved swiftly across the room and checked Truman. No pulse. He looked down on the man he had seen grow up and now die. For long, there had been no doubts in his plan, but now Christof was scared.