—Concise. Decisive, yet supportive. I like it. Grab your jacket. It is time to go.
—Do you remember what you told me the second time around to get me to take this job?
—I do.
—You said: “I found you a military post where you’ll never have to kill anyone ever again.”
—I know. I still intend to keep that promise.
FILE NO. 1416
INTERVIEW WITH CAPTAIN KARA RESNIK, EARTH DEFENSE CORPS
Location: Somewhere in the Atlantic
—Good morning, Ms. Resnik. I hope I did not wake you.
—Holy shit! No! I just got out of the shower. I was running laps on top deck. Why does it feel like we haven’t talked in a decade?
—It has been eight years since our last conversation. Can you talk?
—You mean can anyone hear me? I doubt it, Vincent’s still asleep in his bunk.
—I meant are you busy?
—I missed this.
—What?
—This!
—…
—No, I’m not busy. I have time to talk.
—Where are you?
—In the middle of the Atlantic, but you know that already.
—I meant on the boat.
—In our quarters. We have a little…It’s like a very, very small apartment. We have a couch, a TV, kitchenette.
—I am pleased to hear that you are comfortable. I requested some amenities when the UN acquired your vessel. I know how much you disliked the previous one.
—Oh, it’s night and day, sir. The boat we took before was carrying grain, we were like stowaways. This one’s been overhauled just for us. It doesn’t do anything else. We still sleep in bunk beds though I’m not sure why that is. How’ve you been? I bet you’re bored out of your mind without us.
—Believe it or not, there are things in the world that do not revolve around you. Not many, but enough to keep me reasonably occupied.
—I was just asking how you were. I haven’t talked to you in eight years!
—You were asking about my personal life?
—God, I missed you! Why has it been this long, though? I know you talked to Dr. Franklin a bunch of times.
—You and Mr. Couture appeared to be doing well. I did not see the need.
—You could have said “Hi”!
—Chitchat requires some form of reciprocity, which I cannot offer. But, as I said, I requested some amenities when the UN acquired your vessel.
—You mean you thought of me…once. Some years ago.
—Exactly. What was it you called me in Puerto Rico? All mush inside? How is Dr. Franklin doing?
—Well, you know, you spoke to her. She’s a little darker than she used to be. I thought it would go away after a while, but it’s been nearly a decade, so I think that’s the new her. We still get along great, me and her, though. She likes Vincent too. Everyone else, not so much.
—She has been through trauma. That is to be expected.
—You mean she died. I know; I was there. I killed her. Then she came back four years younger. She never told me how she came back. Does she know?
—She does not.
—Do you?
—I do not.
—You wouldn’t tell me if you did.
—Probably not, but I really do not know. And to be accurate, she is only missing three years of her life. She was dead for the fourth one.
—Remind me never to come to you for reassurance. No wonder she’s not coping well. I’m not the one who died and came back and I’m freaked-out. I mean, me and Vincent spent hours with her every day before she died. Who did we spend all that time with?
—Dr. Rose Franklin.
—Well, that Dr. Franklin died. The Rose Franklin we spend time with now doesn’t remember any of it.
—I realize how confusing this is. I am as bewildered by the situation as you are. I will provide answers when I have them. May I inquire as to the status of your relationship with Mr. Couture?
—Have you been watching us these past few years?
—As far as I know, neither you nor Mr. Couture are under surveillance.
—How nice. I meant on TV. Do you even know what we’ve been doing? You weren’t kidding when you said it would mostly be parades and photo ops. We spend a couple hours a day in the lab trying to learn more about Themis. That’s ten, fifteen hours a week tops, and that’s when we’re in New York. When we’re on tour, then there’s no research whatsoever. The rest of the time is what you said it would be. There aren’t many parades—the logistics are just insane, she destroys everything she steps on, even roads. There aren’t many cities willing to deal with the expense and the security—but we sure take a lot of pictures. Human interest, mostly. We visit schools, hospitals; children’s hospitals are the best. Vincent’s great with kids. He does the knee thing, that helps, but he’s really good with them. We’re a circus act.
—You must hate every minute of it.
—You think I would, right? But I don’t. It’s a nice routine. We eat well, hotel rooms are great. Jenny takes good care of us.
—Who is Jenny?
—The tour manager. She handles our bookings, special requests. Like I said, we’re an act. I thought I would quit after a month when we started, but I’m sort of enjoying it. I’m horrible at it, though. They have to record my interviews in advance or have someone ready to bleep half of what I say. Vincent does most of the talking now. I’m not very good with kids either. They have no sense of irony whatsoever. I made a sick kid cry once. She had leukemia, I think, and I made her cry.
—I fail to see what you find enjoyable.
—The P.R. part is bad. If it were just that, I…It’s what comes with it. We work a few hours a day. Jenny thinks she’s overworking us, but she doesn’t know we used to pull sixteen-hour shifts in Denver. How do I put this? We travel together. We have lots of time to ourselves. We haven’t tried to kill each other yet. I don’t know. It feels…
—Normal?
—Yeah. That.
—Did you manage to keep Mr. Couture from proposing all this time?
—I guess I did. To be honest, I haven’t really been trying the past couple years.
—What made you change your mind?
—Oh. I haven’t changed my mind. I just didn’t feel the need anymore. I think he’s given up on me.
—Does it bother you?
—Maybe a little. I guess part of me was hoping I would change my mind. I know how much it matters to him. He should be with someone who wants kids as much as he does. I think he finally realized that’s not me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.
—What do you mean?
—I don’t know. We’re going over there to face that alien robot. We’re…back. I’m back. That’s how it feels anyway. Am I a horrible person for feeling that way?
—You are likely on your way to a quick death at the hands of a superior enemy, and this somehow makes you happy. Horrible is not the first word that comes to mind.
—Maybe not happy, more…alive. I feel more like myself than I have for a while is what I’m trying to say. Maybe normal isn’t for me. Maybe I was trying to be something I’m not.
—I do not wish to impede your journey towards self-discovery, but I am reasonably certain that there are ways of being yourself that do not require a global crisis. Did you consider the possibility that you might simply be scared at the prospect of a family?