Media People's Hell

5:00 p.m.

All the ceiling lights in the Central Plaza Exhibition Hall of the Los Angeles Convention Center came on.

The IDSA host walked onto the stage and announced that all of E3's first-day media conference sessions had ended.

There was only a sparse scattering of applause from below the stage.

Everyone was already exhausted.

The GamePro editor tossed the two ballpoint pens he had emptied into his backpack and rubbed his aching wrist.

From 9:15 that morning until now, the high-intensity flood of information had pushed his brain to the brink of crashing.

"It's over." The EGM photographer beside him hung his camera around his neck and patted his flat, empty film bag. "I brought twenty rolls of film. Even when Ubisoft's limbless monster came out, I only dared press the shutter halfway, afraid there'd be more later."

"Save it. Both sides of my recorder tapes are full. For that last Bulgarian chorus from Ghost in the Shell, I really had no choice. I had to record over the IS audio from this morning."

Around them, their peers got up one after another, the creak and grind of bones stretching rising here and there.

The adrenaline-fueled frenzy everyone had felt earlier when they saw Final Fantasy VII and Ghost in the Shell had now all turned into terror over tonight's deadline.

Dozens of games.

Next-generation 3D graphics demonstrations.

All kinds of commercial wrestling over exclusives and non-exclusives.

To sort all of that into articles tonight and send them back to the editorial offices first thing tomorrow morning—the workload was nothing short of a disaster.

"I need coffee. Double espresso." The young Wired reporter stuffed his interview notebook into his pocket. "No sleep tonight."

"Come on. South Hall first." The senior editor patted his shoulder. "Let's go get the materials."