The other person's name was Timmy, and he was glad to be seeing the movie because Tracy, who reviewed movies for an alternative news weekly, had been able to get him into the theater for free. He also enjoyed sitting in the press section, an island of seats ringed by masking tape, because sitting in a special section made him feel set apart, as though he might be a little more interesting than he actually was.

Tracy enjoyed sitting in the press section for the same reason, though sometimes the masking tape got stuck in her hair, which she didn't like, and sometimes latecomers climbed over her legs once the movie had started. Tracy felt sorry for the latecomers who had to sit next to her because they had to listen to the small, involuntarily noises she made when a movie was bad. They had to listen to many such noises during Phenomenon, and also to the negotiations between Tracy and Timmy as they tried to decide whether to watch the entire movie or leave before it ended.

After watching Phenomenon for 10 minutes, Timmy argued they should leave the theater. He pointed out that a movie with characters and dialogue as deeply flawed as this could never redeem itself, even if given all the time in the world. By then Travolta had been visited by a strange blinding light, which had dramatically increased his intelligence and also sort of turned him into Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life. Tracy said she wanted to stay because she might write about the movie, and also, she thought it would be "cool" to watch Travolta "get really smart." Timmy advised her that her hopes were in vain.

Tracy tried to sit quietly through the rest of the movie, but she couldn't help making dissatisfied noises every time the characters either spoke or did something. Overall she found the movie painful, almost physically so, and after 90 minutes she began actually feeling humiliated or degraded by the quality of the movie, and by the speeches Travolta made about the triumph of the human spirit, which were so obviously intended not to lift our spirits but to make money for the filmmakers. At this point, she suggested to Timmy that they leave.

Timmy refused, at first gently, but later, after Tracy pleaded with him, he used his position on the aisle to block her exit. Tracy was not sure why he was doing this, though she knew Timmy was not enjoying the movie, and that he sometimes found an odd satisfaction in doing things he did not enjoy. She knew he might go to a Star Trek convention or take up clogging, not because these things would give him pleasure, but because they were so antithetical to what he might like to do naturally that in retrospect, these activities would produce a shock of incongruity, which in itself would give him pleasure.

Or perhaps he would not allow her to leave because the movie was hurting him, and he in turn wished to hurt another.

Or--and Tracy found this the most likely--perhaps he took a sort of older-brother's sadistic pleasure in keeping her there which was, for him, vastly entertaining, despite the fact the movie was not.

Or perhaps his reasoning was obscure, like the time he'd told a stranger to read the movie section of an alternative news weekly because it usually included mention of the television show Xena: Warrior Princess, and that this was a sign that a secret cult had sprung up around this show. He encouraged Tracy to mention Xena: Warrior Princess as often as she could in her writing, in order to fool this stranger, and also to satisfy some whimsical sense of purposeless subterfuge, which he found vastly entertaining, even when Xena: Warrior Princess was not.

Tracy was vexed that Timmy would not allow her to leave. She felt the movie was hurting her, perhaps in a way that would not be easily healed. Later, she said it was the rose filter, which made each of the shots in the movie look as though it had been filmed at sunrise, which most offended her, while Timmy said he'd been most offended by the saccharine music.

This was after the movie had ended and they had left. Tracy no longer felt angry at Timmy, perhaps because she was so relieved to be free. She did, however, feel angry at Jon Turtletaub, as well as John Travolta and the entire state of California, whose purpose it was to produce such empty entertainments salted with simplistic spiritual messages. Rather than feeling uplifted by the spiritual messages, Tracy felt, as she searched for her car, curiously empty, as though she had been assaulted by a blinding light which had somehow left her less interesting than ever before.