If asked why I decided to create a giant deadly beam of energy to wash across the planet every fourteen hours, I would have to say because I Hitchcock told me to. Hitchcock said the way your create tension is not to let the audience know five minutes before the end that a bomb was under a chair, you tell the audience that in the first moment, the first frame. Put that thing right up at the top of the hour with a little hand that says 59 minutes until it gets exciting.
So I created an enormous red death-beam that flashes around the planet, lasts long enough to be a problem and is regular enough to always be at the back of your mind.
The Red Band is visually interesting and psychologically engrossing. How do you deal with an inevitable and powerful force that shows up at an odd number of hours? If it was twelve and lasted for all of a second then you could just set your watch and call it for a second in the shade. But it happens every fourteen hours, lasts for two, then repeats. If you sleep too late one day you suddenly find yourself immolated in the street wondering why nobody else is around. Even if you are huddled in shelter there is the ominous glow permeating every crack.
Geiger counters flip out as it approaches and children wail and cry.
Bars get a lot of business. Step in to avoid the light and you have to stay for a few hours, shelter is for paying customers only.
In another way the Red Band gives solace, a period of Amish-style time where you really don’t get to do much work. A time you have to spend resting and thinking. A time for family togetherness. A time for a quick nap. An excuse to sleep in on certain days. A reason to find some quick bunker love.
As a storytelling device it makes it easy to maneuver characters and events. As we see in the first few pages of The Drop it has a polarizing effect on the scene. It creates a crowd and it destroys evidence. It is both a motivation and a shroud. And it makes the future world completely alien with nothing more than a quick background fill.
