Philippine Speculative Fiction by Andrew Drilon

television experience (production, writing, and hosting).
    She has won a Carlos Palanca Memorial Award for Essay (1st, 2011) and a Nick Joaquin Literary Award (3rd, 2013). Jenny is a dissertation shy of obtaining
her PhD Communication degree from UP.
    CARLOS MENDOZA SQUINTED at the fine print of the
Dividendazo
horseracing program. As chairman of the board of stewards of Santa Alma Park, and therefore the highest
official on racedays, it was part of his job to study ‘Dazo’s past performances of the horses running that day. He couldn’t understand why it was so dark. Was it brownout
again?
    Where were his glasses? Grunting, he sifted through the clutter on his table overlooking the racetrack. Things were never around when you needed them. People, too. Why wasn’t he informed
about the lights failing? Looking around him in the dim light, he saw he was alone. Where were the other stewards? His vice-chairman, Sparky Cruz? The racing secretary? Slacking off, most likely,
just because it was in between races. What effrontery to leave their chief alone on a race day! He’d have the lot of them fired.
    He resolved to speak to the CEO of the racetrack the next day. He had the ear of the owner, and
putang ina nilang lahat
if they didn’t toe the line he drew for them.
    The corners of his mouth drew up in grim smile. Let them dig their own professional graves. The racing club’s board of directors would see how dedicated he was, how eminently fit for his
post, and that would assure his tenure, perhaps even a raise and a bonus come the holidays.
    He smoothed the surface of the ‘Dazo. Now where were those glasses…?
    JANE ORTIZ HAD been running Santa Alma’s broadcast coverage for years. She knew the basics of broadcasting from experience. Her father had been a newscaster for ABS-CBN
in the ‘60s, and, through observation and mentoring, Jane learned a gamut of skills, from camera work to dubbing to editing to performing as an on-cam talent.
    The world of mainstream broadcasting was too competitive for her, so when she was given a chance to work for the racing industry she grabbed it. Producing the live race coverage wasn’t too
difficult. All that people needed to see, racing executives told her, were the horses running and the betting odds matrix.
    There were two racetracks, Santa Alma Park and San Lauro Hippodrome. Both were founded decades ago—Santa Alma in 1937, and San Lauro even earlier, in 1867. Their racetracks were in Makati
and Manila respectively, but when land prices in the city shot up, the racetracks were developed into mixed-use commercial properties. Where formerly jockeys trod, resplendent in their silks,
snapping whips against their shiny calf-high boots, call-center agents now circled, pallid from hours spent indoors, sucking on cigarettes during their all-too short breaks.
    Since the racetracks had franchises to operate from Congress, they had to transfer the facilities, not simply shut them down. Both racing clubs bought extensive tracts of land in Cavite
City—Santa Alma in Naic, San Lauro in Carmona—where few people went, because they weren’t as accessible as the city-based racetracks had been. Track attendance dwindled from 20
percent to 4 percent, and most of those were
taga-karera
—raceclub workers, jockeys, trainers—and not
karerista
as before.
    The broadcast, therefore, gained a new importance as a medium to deliver the spectacle of the races. Jane had high standards for the coverage and imposed them.
    The crew worked long hours. The two racetracks alternated racing each week. A raceweek lasted from Tuesday to Sunday. In the live coverage of horseracing, the broadcast team is the first to
arrive and the last to leave. Setting up and testing worn and sorry equipment takes time, as does wrapping up and troubleshooting.
    Transferring the entire setup from Makati to Naic had been another backbreaking challenge, but she had a great crew.
    It was Niño’s job, for instance, as