Arthur (1): Chosen One (4)

THE ARTHUR SHOW

I woke up feeling different, like something was off. I decided it was something external, something happening around me, so I decided to finally clean my room. I put away my clean clothes and placed all of my dirty ones in an overflowing basket (sorry Mom). My homework was disorganized, so I put it all together. I found a late assignment Mr. Ratburn was asking for, so I put it in my homework folder to give him that Monday.

When that didn't help, I decided to take it a step further. I got the duster out and ran it along the walls like Dad showed me. When I did, I accidentally bumped a vent and the entire face of it came off. Not wanting to get caught, I grabbed the stepladder out of the hallway closet and tried to put it back.

Except I saw a little red light flashing at me in the gloom.

A red light like you'd find on a camera.

It was watching me.

I was being watched.

I put the vent face back as best as I could before sitting on the floor. It was a vent, so I couldn't block it without making the room too hot or too cold. I didn't want to tell my parents either. If they put it there, that was just uncomfortable to think about. If someone else put it there, who?

So I put everything back where it went and moved on with my day. I was meeting Buster at the tree house to decide on a project idea later. He and I were paired up to do a project about recycling together, so we were going to brainstorm ideas. I hadn't done it yet, so I tried after breakfast to write some things down. I couldn't stop thinking about the camera, so I decided to ask him about that instead.

Buster listened intently, a worried look on his face. His ears fell, and suddenly I found him darting out of the tree house.

"Come back! You have to tell me what to do!" I yelled after him.

"No, nope, nada, BYE ARTHUR!" he screaming, running away.

I sat there and couldn't figure out why this was such a big deal…until I thought about it. What if there was a camera in the tree house too? I got a stick and started poking around.

Sure enough, there was a tiny red light flashing at me through a knothole. Suddenly I was the one darting out of the tree house and running off, but where could I go? I was being watched everywhere I went.

A horn honked and I looked up to find Muffy there with the door of her limousine open. I climbed in—except it wasn't Muffy. I started to run until I heard my name. I looked up to see Mr. Ratburn.

"Mr. Ratburn?"

"There's a lot to explain, Arthur," he said solemnly, nodding to the lady sitting beside me.

"You are safe, Arthur. You were never in any danger—"

"Then what's with the cameras, lady? Who's watching me?!" I cried out, suddenly feeling scared enough to cry. I hadn't been that scared in ages, but I'd never been scared like this. I shook my head, "Are my parents even my parents?"

"Yes," the lady nodded. She sighed, "Money is a troubling thing, Arthur. You're too young to understand right now, but they did what they thought was best for you—"

"Recording my every moment?!"

"Not everything," Mr. Ratburn said, cocking his head, "That would've brought on legal ramifications we wanted no part of."

"But everything else?" I asked.

"Literally everything. You've got a lot of fans, Arthur, millions. They span the globe, possibly even space by now if anything's out there like Buster says. What a find he was," she grinned.

"A find? My best friend isn't even my friend?!" I wailed.

The lady sighed, "None of this is what it seems, Arthur. You were chosen from a wide variety of children to be the focus of a documentary about the life of a child. You were picked after a lengthy selection process when you were very young. We started recording early and kept going, but it wasn't until you reached third grade that your show was picked up. We've got enough material to last, what, however long it takes? And then we'll start a newer season with you as a fourth grader and so on," she smiled, shaking her head with satisfaction as she sank into the seat, "You're the best decision we've ever made."

"Well unmake it. NO, no! I won't do this anymore!" I cried. I started hitting the door of the limo only to have Mr. Ratburn restrain me. He was stronger than he should be, and then it hit me, "You're not even a teacher!"

"I am, Arthur, but first and foremost I am an actor, an actor who had to be a bouncer in his spare time so I suggest you stop," he growled.

I screamed and screamed and screamed—

—and suddenly I was back home in my bed.

In an instant, I got what I needed to peer into the vent. There was no red light, but I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, a lot of someone. Even alien someones. I got into bed and put my head under the covers, hoping it would all go away.

I checked the tree house before we started talking. Buster watched curiously with a grin on his face. This was the sort of thing he did, so I knew it was a good idea to tell him. Besides, I had to tell someone about my dream. What if it was true?

"Okay, I don't see any cameras—"

"They're really good at hiding them you know. I think there's on in our TV," Buster said with his usual confidence.

I shook my head, "These have to be a good quality. I…I was on television, like a documentary but a series. It was all about me. The only place there weren't cameras were in the bathrooms, I guess. They didn't get a chance to say because…they said you were casted to be my friend, and the only people who were real were my parents, except they sold me out—"

"That's cold, man," he shook his head.

"Buster! But what if it were true? How would you feel if everyone was watching you?" I asked firmly.

"Actually—"

Buster and I jumped as Brain climbed into the tree house. He sat on the ledge, letting his feet dangle in the doorway: "It's a common feeling that has been extensively researched for psychology purposes. Everyone feels like they're being watched, like everyone will see every mistake. It's the root of many anxiety disorders and other mental illnesses, but everyone has it to some degree. Once you're aware of it, you get used to it. I did."

"No, I had a dream where people WERE watching me, cameras and everything," I said.

"Oh, well, probably a manifestation of your subconscious fear that everyone is watching—"

"What?" Buster laughed.

"Arthur probably realized about this feeling but not like on top, so his dreams showed him his fear. It happens all the time," Brain shrugged, pulling himself the rest of the way into the tree house, "Have you picked your project topics yet? Jenna and I are doing the glass industry."

Buster replied but I stayed in the corner. I was still caught up on my dream, as I should be. What if people were watching me? I don't think I was comfortable with that, but…if I was chosen for that, I would rather know about it. I mean, I know people change in front of the camera, but I'd rather know I was being documented than find out from some creepy stranger lady in the back of a limo.

But Brain was right. I was probably just scared of people watching me, so I dreamed about the cameras and the wide audience and my best friend being an imposter cast to be my best friend. It made sense, so I decided to believe him.

~End

A/N: My ninth installment of the 10x10 Challenge. If you want more info, see my profile or PM me. Keep in mind that while I'm doing it in a month, you can take all the time you need. Let me know if you're participating so I can read your pieces.