January 26, 2014

ESPN's Internet Rollout Tests Television Cash Cow

O'Brien had a slip of paper between his fingers and seemed to be studying it intently. His heavy face, bent down so that one could see the line of the nose, looked both formidable and intelligent. For perhaps twenty seconds he sat without stirring. Then he pulled the speakwrite towards him and rapped out a message in the hybrid jargon of the Ministries:

BRISTOL, Conn.----In the control room of ESPN's headquarters, a row of screens shows video feeds going out to cable providers for each of its television channels. But a growing part of ESPN's future lies across the room, where a similar setup tracks transmissions to the Internet.

"Items one comma five comma seven approved fullwise stop suggestion contained item six doubleplus ridiculous verging crimethink cancel stop unproceed constructionwise antegetting plusfull estimates machinery overheads stop end message."

 On a recent Saturday, technicians were busy streaming several dozen games, some at the same time as they were on television and others that weren't televised at all. Damon Phillips, in charge of the service, used a tablet computer to monitor how many people were watching online.

He rose deliberately from his chair and came towards them across the soundless carpet. A little of the official atmosphere seemed to have fallen away from him with the Newspeak words, but his expression was grimmer than usual, as though he were not pleased at being disturbed. The terror that Winston already felt was suddenly shot through by a streak of ordinary embarrassment. It seemed to him quite possible that he had simply made a stupid mistake. For what evidence had he in reality that O'Brien was any kind of political conspirator? Nothing but a flash of the eyes and a single equivocal remark: beyond that, only his own secret imaginings, founded on a dream. He could not even fall back on the pretence that he had come to borrow the dictionary, because in that case Julia's presence was impossible to explain. As O'Brien passed the telescreen a thought seemed to strike him. He stopped, turned aside and pressed a switch on the wall. There was a sharp snap. The voice had stopped.

"I'm obsessed with this," he said, pointing to the usage tally, which he starts checking at 5:30 a.m. while on his exercise bike. "I look at it all day long."