What I think works for Fox News is we have a very direct form of

Host: The newsroom was a hive of light, glass, and motion — cameras blinking like mechanical eyes, screens pulsing with endless headlines, every surface humming with urgency. The air carried the sharp tang of electricity and coffee — that restless scent of deadlines and belief colliding.

Through the control-room glass, the anchor desk gleamed under the studio lights. It looked almost holy — a pulpit carved from technology. Jack sat nearby, headset slung around his neck, staring at the flickering monitors. On one of them, a quote looped in a presentation slide:

“What I think works for Fox News is we have a very direct form of communication.” — Roger Ailes.

Jeeny stood behind him, clipboard in hand, her eyes scanning the chaos — producers rushing, editors barking into mics, the relentless choreography of media.

Jeeny: raising her voice above the noise “Direct communication. That’s the euphemism of the century.”

Jack: half-smiling “He’s not wrong though. Direct works. People don’t want nuance. They want clarity — even if it’s weaponized.”

Jeeny: leaning on the desk “Or oversimplified. Direct doesn’t always mean honest, Jack. Sometimes it just means loud.”

Jack: turning to face her “And yet, it’s what cuts through. Every medium rewards volume over depth. The clearer the soundbite, the stronger the echo.”

Host: The teleprompter light flickered red — Standby for Live. The anchor, poised and polished, adjusted his tie. His smile was sharp enough to split atoms. Behind him, the graphics exploded in blue and gold: flags, bold fonts, urgency incarnate.

Jeeny: watching through the glass “You ever notice how the ‘direct’ form of communication always looks like performance? It’s not just words — it’s rhythm, tone, posture. It’s theater disguised as news.”

Jack: “That’s the point. News stopped being information a long time ago. It’s emotion now — commodified outrage. Ailes figured that out before anyone else.”

Jeeny: “He figured out that clarity sells. Especially when it pretends to be truth.”

Jack: “And truth doesn’t sell at all — not when it asks people to think.”

Host: The broadcast began. On the monitor, the anchor leaned forward, voice rich and authoritative. His words were smooth, practiced, almost musical. The camera panned in slowly, swallowing him whole.

For the audience, it looked effortless. For Jack and Jeeny, behind the glass, it was an act of engineering — reality constructed in real time.

Jeeny: “You think people even know they’re being performed to?”

Jack: “They don’t want to know. It ruins the illusion of certainty.”

Jeeny: “So we feed them conviction instead of complexity.”

Jack: “That’s what ‘direct’ means in this business — give them the feeling of knowing without the burden of thinking.”

Jeeny: sighing “You make it sound manipulative.”

Jack: quietly “It is. That’s why it works.”

Host: The studio clock ticked above them, its red digits slicing time into measurable tension. On screen, images flashed — protests, debates, flags, fire. The narrative was relentless.

Jeeny: “It’s strange, isn’t it? We call it communication, but it’s one-way. The anchor speaks; the world listens. There’s no dialogue. Just projection.”

Jack: “And silence. Don’t forget silence. The most effective form of control is the illusion that conversation’s already happened.”

Jeeny: softly “You sound like you hate it.”

Jack: “I love the craft. I hate what it’s become.”

Host: He ran his hand through his hair, staring at the control board — every switch and slider a nerve ending of the modern mind. The sound of applause filled the studio as the segment cut to a commercial.

Jeeny: “Ailes called it ‘direct.’ I call it distilled — emotion without friction. It’s not about facts anymore. It’s about resonance.”

Jack: nodding “Exactly. You don’t win attention with accuracy. You win it with rhythm. Say it clean, say it quick, say it certain. Leave no room for maybe.”

Jeeny: “That’s terrifying.”

Jack: “That’s television.”

Host: The anchor’s voice returned, crisp and commanding. The words didn’t matter — what mattered was cadence. Certainty. Every pause was rehearsed, every smile calculated.

Jack leaned closer to the glass, watching like a scientist studying a specimen.

Jeeny: “You know, sometimes I wonder if the ‘direct form’ killed journalism or just revealed what it always was — storytelling with stakes.”

Jack: thoughtful “Maybe both. Journalism was supposed to inform. Now it baptizes. It doesn’t tell you what happened — it tells you what to believe about it.”

Jeeny: “And the congregation tunes in nightly.”

Jack: grimly “Faith always finds its medium.”

Host: The clock beeped again — end of segment. The anchor relaxed instantly, his face losing the heroic tension of performance. The screen went black for a moment before another headline replaced him.

Jeeny: “You ever wish we could go back? To slower stories? Long silences? Honest uncertainty?”

Jack: half-smiling “No one watches honesty, Jeeny. It doesn’t trend.”

Jeeny: “So we give them performance and call it patriotism.”

Jack: “Or conviction. Or truth. Whatever word keeps them tuned in.”

Jeeny: “And what keeps you tuned in?”

Jack: after a pause “The hope that one day, the direct form might actually say something true again.”

Host: The lights dimmed slightly as the next team of producers moved in. The hum of the control room never stopped — a living organism made of screens and belief.

Outside, the night city glittered — windows glowing like a thousand little broadcasts of their own.

Jeeny: quietly “You know what I think Ailes really meant?”

Jack: “What?”

Jeeny: “That clarity is power. If you can say something cleanly enough, you can make people forget to question it.”

Jack: nodding slowly “And the sharpest words are always the ones that cut both ways.”

Jeeny: “So what do we do? Keep sharpening?”

Jack: “No. Maybe it’s time to start listening.”

Host: The camera would pull back — the vast machinery of the newsroom glowing beneath them, every light a heartbeat in the great nervous system of modern persuasion.

And as the hum faded into silence, Roger Ailes’ words would echo across the emptiness, both triumphant and damning:

“What I think works for Fox News is we have a very direct form of communication.”

Because power doesn’t always shout —
sometimes it speaks cleanly.

And in a world starving for nuance,
the simplest sentences
can build the loudest
empires.