The projection room at the American Zoetrope facility in San Francisco was cold.
The credits for THX 1138 began to roll in stark, white typography against a black void. The electronic hum of the soundtrack faded into a heavy silence.
George Lucas sat two seats away, his posture rigid. He was twenty-six years old, terrified, and brilliant.
Duke stood up, stretching his legs. He walked to the front of the room, turning to face the young director.
"It's a masterpiece of design, George," Duke said, his voice echoing slightly in the soundproofed space. "The soundscape alone… I've never heard anything like it."
George exhaled, a sharp release of tension. "But?"
"But," Duke continued gently, "it's...It's a film for film students. It's brilliant, but it pushes the audience away."
George slumped slightly. "You don't like it."
"I respect it immensely," Duke corrected. "And i'm sure Warner will distribute it. But I wouldn't bet the farm on it, George."
Duke walked over and sat on the armrest of the seat in front of George. "Now, I want you to tell me about the other one. The car movie."
George blinked, surprised by the pivot. " American Graffiti? It's… it's just a nostalgia piece. Cruising in Modesto. Rock and roll. It's not 'important' like this."
Duke smiled. "That's where you're wrong. People will pay for a story that makes them feel something, George. They could turn up for a story about how it was to be young and free before the world got complicated."
"So, I still have a job?" George asked, a wry smile finally breaking through his beard.
"You'll always have a career with Paramount."
___
Three days later, Duke was back in Connecticut. He was sitting in a conference room that smelled of fresh coffee, across from a man who had ink stained into several parts of his fingers.
Archie Goodwin.
Duke had poached him. In his previous timeline, Goodwin was a legend, a writer and editor who would eventually help steer Marvel and DC.
Most importantly, during his time at Marvel, he would editor of the anthology magazine Epic Illustrated
Yet in 1970, he was a working writer, hustling between gigs.
"Charlton is dead, Archie," Duke said, sliding a fresh pack of cigarettes across the table. "We aren't publishing 'Charlton Comics' anymore."
Goodwin lit a cigarette, leaning back. "So, what are we then? 'Paramount Comics'? 'Ithaca Funnies'?"
"PULSE," Duke said. "Pulse Comics."
He stood up and walked to the whiteboard. "Here's the reality. The comic market is dying a slow death because it's stagnant. Marvel is doing great work, but they're getting comfortable."
"DC is trying to be relevant, but they're like your dad trying to wear bell-bottoms. We have the printing presses in Derby. We have the capacity to print cheaper and faster than anyone else."
"So we're going to change the format."
Duke drew a rectangle on the board.
"We launch a weekly anthology. Newsprint. Black and white. Sixty-four pages. Fifteen cents. We call it PULSE Weekly."
Goodwin frowned. "Weekly? That's a grinder, Duke. You'll burn out the artists. And black and white? Wouldn't most people want color?"
"Kids want story," Duke countered. "They want speed. In Japan, they have these magazines, full of comics that come out every week. You buy it, you read it, you toss it or trade it. It's disposable entertainment that becomes a habit."
"Okay," Goodwin said, intrigued by the sheer audacity of the logistical challenge. "What's the lineup? We can't just run reruns of Blue Beetle."
"No. We launch with four new pillars. I have the treatments here." Duke tapped a folder on the table.
These were the "Pre-Creations." Ideas that Duke had pulled from the future, stripped of their later baggage, and adapted for the 1970 aesthetic.
"First," Duke said, " Ben 10. It's about a ten-year-old kid named Ben Tennyson who finds an alien device, a watch that lets him transform into ten different alien heroes. It's pure wish fulfillment. It's sci-fi mixed with teenage road trip adventure."
"A shapeshifter," Goodwin mused. "Classic. We can have fun with the creature designs."
"Exactly. Second, Rogue Sun. A rebellious teenager finds out his estranged father was a superhero who died. He inherits the mantle, but the power hates him. It's a supernatural superhero story."
"Nice. A legacy hero being our main character."
"Third," Duke continued, " Transformers. They are sentient, living robotic machines from a war-torn planet. They hide in plain sight as vehicles. The tagline is 'More Than Meets the Eye.'."
Goodwin raised an eyebrow. "Giant robots? That's a hard sell, Duke."
"Trust me. We could work with a toy company on the design first."
"And the fourth?"
"Slam Dunk, a basketball story" Duke said.
Goodwin paused, his cigarette hovering halfway to his mouth. "A basketball comic?"
"The Knicks just won the championship, Archie. The country is on fire for basketball. But this isn't a sports report. It's a drama."
"It's about a delinquent who joins the high school team to impress a girl and realizes he loves the game. It's about the sweat, the squeak of the sneakers, the physics of the shot. We set it in Brooklyn or Chicago. And focus on the action."
Goodwin stared at the board. "It's a lot on our plate. Aliens, ghosts, robots, and basketball. It's insane."
"It's a buffet of stories." Duke corrected. "For fifteen cents, every kid in America will find something they love. And once they're hooked, we own them."
"Now," Duke said, "for the prestige market. The twenty-cent color books. We keep two flagships. But we reinvent them."
He pulled up an image of Blue Beetle.
"Ted Kord," Duke said. "Right now, he's a generic action hero. We change him. He's a teenager. He's brilliant, nerdy, socially awkward. He finds the Scarab, but he can't control it perfectly. He builds gadgets to supplement it."
"He's our Spider-Man, Archie. He's the hero who worries about his homework while he's saving the city. He cracks jokes because he's terrified. I want Ditko working on it."
"And the other one?"
"Captain Atom," Duke said. "Nathaniel Adam. In the current books, he's a nuclear accident. We're changing that. He's a billionaire industrialist. A weapons designer who has a change of heart after seeing his tech used to hurt innocents."
"He builds a suit of armor, a containment suit for his own unstable energy. He's a modern knight of sorts."
"So, the working-class kid and the billionaire savior," Goodwin summarized. "A nice duality."
"Exactly. Arrange the writers and the artists. Tell them the page rates are double what Marvel is paying, but the deadlines will be non-negotiable. We want to launch by January."
Goodwin stubbed out his cigarette. He looked energized. "I'll get to work. But Duke? 'Pulse'? You sure about the name?"
"Yeah" Duke said. "It's going to be big."
___
The rain in Manhattan was relentless. Duke sat in the back of a stretch Cadillac Fleetwood, the leather seats creaking softly as the car navigated midtown.
Beside him, Stanley Jaffe was reviewing a stack of documents thick enough to stop a bullet.
Jaffe pulled a gold fountain pen from his jacket. He hesitated for a split second, looking at the document. The incorporatio documents of Ajax Group.
Jaffe handed the papers to Duke. Duke signed them without a tremor.
"Done," Duke said. "It's official."
He picked up a notepad and drew a simple diagram.
"This is the structure," Duke said.
Paramount / Ithaca
Atari
PULSE Comics
Paramount Records
"Speaking of things," Jaffe said, putting the cap back on his pen. "We need to talk about Dot Records. It's an embarrassment, Duke. We have a label that puts out polka compilations and country."
Duke nodded. "I've been thinking about that. The music industry is shifting. It's moving from singles to albums. From pop to rock and concept records. We need to pivot Dot."
"Pivot it how?"
"We stop signing acts that play in Vegas lounges," Duke said. "We start looking for the sound of the 70s. We need rock and new artist. And most importantly, we need to own the soundtracks of our films."
"I can put Frank Yablans on it," Jaffe suggested. "He knows the radio guys."
"No," Duke said. "Yablans is great at selling movies, but he has no experience in music. I'll find someone. But we need to treat the music label as a primary asset, not a dumping ground for contract obligations."
___
Thoughs on PULSE weekly?