Even though they were the same height, the interviewer seemed to tower over her. She looked her over. She was as tall as Myra remembered; a little less then average height for a women. Her hair however, was in stark contrast. She had short blonde hair. Myra’s was longer and darker, a slightly lighter shade of brunette. Myra’s brown eyes stared uneasily into the interviewer’s blue eyes, as she twitched in her seat nervously and bit her lower lip.
The interviewer began to speak, but Myra couldn’t understand her. She was speaking like a bee, “bzzzzz, bzzzz, bzzz” she continued. This interview is going to go very badly, Myra thought. She looked to her left towards one of the bookshelves that covered the wall. “Maybe one of those books can help me understand”, she thought to herself. She walked to the shelf, becoming more and more assured of her success as she approached. She browsed the books until she found one that seemed interesting. She picked it up and read the title “Myra Stone”. Surprised and filled with curiosity, she thumbed through the book and realized this was her. Her DNA, her memories, her knowledge, even her personality was all here. It was not only in this book, but it was this book. She had a brilliant idea. She pickup up a pen and wrote down the knowledge to understand her interviewer. It worked. Myra finally understood her.
“It should be purple don’t you think? Just like Anastasia. It would fit you better. It doesn’t matter I suppose. All of these have a destiny already”, she said. She then stood up walked over to the books. She took out lighter fluid in a squeeze bottle. She poured it over all the books. Then she took out a match, lit it, and threw it on the books. Myra watched in horror as the books all went up in flames. The room began to glow from the light of the fire. The radiant heat warmed her face, as if she stepped out into the afternoon sun. A great sorrow filled her heart and tears began to form in her eyes. Why was it affecting her like this? They were only books.
She then noticed a book at the top that was stubbornly not burning, but she couldn’t make out the title. It was as if the book was fighting back against the flames some how. Then she noticed another that seemed to be escaping its fate by hiding. A third book also was not on fire. This one was nearer to her and easier to make out. It was a bright shade of blood red, but also had a sense of sorrow to it, as if the sorrow in its bindings made it that color. She could just make out its title “Jennifer Stone”.
A rabbit, no her mother, no her mother as a rabbit hopped into the room. “You have no right to keep my daughter out of this school!” it said angrily.
“I’m the interviewer. It is my nature. Not everyone can be a clown you know”, she responded.
“I always wanted to be a clown. Making people laugh is my life”, the rabbit said with a very sad face. “You can deny me and leave my daughter alone.”
“I deny everyone. Nobody gets to make people laugh except for us. It is the way it works. It is the way it has always been”, the interviewer responded.
Myra’s father as a lion entered the room and began to enter the conversation on Myra’s behalf. “You will let Myra enter this school. She was born to be in a kiss tribute band.” He ran up to Myra and squeezed her cheeks together. His paws felt weird against her face. “You would think those claws would hurt”, she thought to herself.
“Imagine this face in white paint. How could you deny her entry? You can’t. You won’t” the lion said.
“Do not presume to give me commands lion. You are the king of the jungle. Not the schools above it. Not of this school”, the interviewer responded coolly.
The interviewer, who was now a bee, flew up and stung the lion. This had a weird effect on her father. He turned to look at her mother with hunger in his eyes. “I haven’t had a good feast in quite a while”, he said.
“That is a good thing. Remember your cholesterol. Your heart could give out at any minute”, the rabbit said in a fearful voice. The lion just smiled at her. She took off in the opposite direction. The lion gave chase. The small room didn’t allow for much maneuvering. They just ran in circles around Myra. The bee flew above the 2 as they raced around the room. It dove towards them at every opportunity. With every dive, it stung one or the other. Each stung caused all of them to slow down and look weaker. It was as if they were all connected and the poison was affecting all of them with every sting.
Myra realized she was the only one that could stop them before the poison from the bee stings killed them all. She began to shout at them, “This is stupid you have to stop.” They ignored her. “Stop or you will all die. Don’t you see what you are doing to yourselves?” She was terrified she would fail. They would all die and it would be her fault. She began to cry and shout louder. “I don’t have to go to this college. Clowns scare me and I can’t even play a guitar.”
She turned around and saw a strange woman holding her book, the one she wrote in earlier. The book that was her. The woman was writing in the book, not adding to it, but changing it. The binding began to change color slightly. Myra, petrified, stared at the woman. The woman, finally realizing Myra had seen her, tilted her head slightly to look directly into Myra’s eyes and gave her an eerie smile. This terrified Myra to the point that she thought she would burst. Then she woke up, with the tingling feeling of fear still running through her body.
“Well at least the interview is over” she thought, but then another terrifying realization came to her. That couldn’t have been real. It was just a dream. It was morning still. She looked at her alarm clock, “Ug not a chance I’m getting up that early”, she said to herself and went back to sleep.
After a couple more hours of rest she got up and began to get ready for her day. While she showered she kept her mind on her dream. What could it have meant? All the details were fading fast: her parents as animals, books burning, something about a Kiss tribute band. None of it made any sense to her anymore. The only thing she remembered clearly was the moment just before she woke up. The eerie smile of the women holding a book.
She finally shook off her dream as she was brushing her teeth. She turned her mind to what she was going to do the rest of the morning. Her real interview wasn’t until the afternoon, so she had several hours to kill. She decided to head to campus early. She had a few friends she hadn’t seen in a while living in the dorm rooms there. It would be nice to see them again.
After a few minutes looking for her keys, she left the house and got into her car. She said a little prayer for the car to start as she turned the key. It started successfully after some begging. She then prayed was for a new car as her graduation present, something a bit more sporty and faster, much faster.
After a short 20-minute drive she arrived at the university campus. “Well that’s one minus from this school”, she thought. She then realized she had no idea where her friends lived. She got out of her car and began to walk around. She spotted a building that looked like it might be a library. It should have a map, or at least someone to point me in the right direction.
She spotted the librarian immediately when she entered. He was the only person in the building. He was the complete opposite of what you think a librarian should look like. He sat leaning back in his chair with his feet plopped on top of his desk reading a book. His long hair lay on the other side of the chair. With just a T-shirt and shorts, his position was not flattering at all and looked a bit uncomfortable.
She walked up to him and in a hushed voice, appropriate for a library; she asked if he knew her friend Don. In an equally hushed voice he replied, “Why are you whispering?”
“Well this is a library”, Myra replied, a little shocked at the question.
“Yes, but,” he said in his hushed voice, then shouted, “there’s nobody here.” His voice echoed through the room. Myra shocked at such a reply from a complete stranger just stared at him.
“I’m sorry, “ he said, “I know I’m a smart ass. I can’t help myself. It’s my nature.”
Myra smiled at him, telling him it was all right. “Don Dinardo. Where is he?” this time she spoke with her normal voice. He smiled back and replied, “He’s in the Stevens building, second floor. I don’t know the room number.”
She was able to get his room number from a passing stranger as she entered the building. She climbed up the stairs and found his room. She stared at his door for a moment, feeling excited and afraid, but mostly excited. “I thought I was over this crush a long time ago”, she thought to herself. She shrugged it off and knocked on the door.
He opened the door. He gave her a big smile seeing her behind it. She returned the smile. “Myra. What a pleasant surprise. It’s been a long time”, he said and gave her a hug. He was much taller then Myra, by almost a foot. He was fairly well built, but didn’t have bulging muscles. He was very handsome. He had short blonde hair, but darker then most blondes. His hair was messy and he wore a t-shirt and shorts. Both were stained with colorful paint. He didn’t wear any socks or shoes.
Myra thought she had woke him for a moment, but it was far too late in the morning.
“What have you been up too?” she asked.
“I’ve been painting. Just finished in fact. You should see it. You will like it”, he said. He moved to let her in. It was a typical dorm room. It was small, only a little bigger then Myra’s room at home. It had 2 beds. Both were unmade. Books and clothes lined the floor on one side. Don’s side was a bit cleaner, but not by a lot. His clothes were tucked away on one side. Myra realized this was to make room for the large white blanket to protect the room from his painting canvas.
Don motioned towards his painting. The lower half of the canvas was filled with lions. The center pictured a lion standing on a boulder. He was obviously their king. The lions below all looked up to him. He was midway through a vicious roar.
Don gave Myra a pleasant smile, obviously expecting her to like his painting. She usually liked lions. They stuck her as strong and noble. They were qualities she had always admired in others, especially in men. But this morning was different. The image of the lion brought her back to her dream.
“You don’t like it”, Don said, obviously disappointed. Myra’s uneasiness was showing in her face. “No, it isn’t that. I just had a bad dream about lions this morning. It was very weird”, she said. She explained the dream as well as she could. She couldn’t remember very much, certainly not enough to convey the full effect of the dream on her.
“I know what will help. Lunch. I’m supposed to be meeting some friends. You should join us”, he said. This cheered Myra up immediately. She always enjoyed meeting new people. It was her favorite activity.
They strolled through campus to the other side where the cafeteria was. They walked in building and down the hallway to the cafeteria. They talked casually about their mutual friends. It was mostly gossip, who was dating who, what college people were going to, etc. Upon reaching the cafeteria door, Don pulled out his wallet, giving the lunch lady his card to swipe for his lunch, then pulling out money to pay for Myra’s lunch.
A couple of steps into the building Don spotted his friends. There were 2 girls and a guy. The girls were waving, obviously spotting him as well. Don gave them a node, waving not being a guy thing. They made there way around the other tables. The room wasn’t crowded, but was still about half full.
When they reached the table Don did the introductions. The guys name was Steve. He was an average guy, medium height, and average build. Myra thought he was cute, but nowhere near as attractive as Don.
The girl next to him, Stacy, was a little shorter then him. She had short blonde hair and blue eyes. She was very pretty. She and Steve were sitting very close to each other. She was almost sitting in his lap.
On the left side of the square table sat Rebecca. She had long dark, almost black hair and dark eyes. She was very attractive. She looked tall, but Myra couldn’t tell for sure. She never stood up.
Myra reached across the table to give her a handshake, as she did the others in turn during their introduction. The women gave Myra an eerie look and a forced smile, as if Rebecca was sizing her up.
With the introductions complete, Don went to get his and Myra’s food. Myra took a seat opposite the couple. “Did you just come to hang with Don?” Rebecca asked.
“No, I have an interview in a couple of hours. A Ms. Grieg. That name doesn’t sound promising. Do any of you know her?”
“Yes, she’s ok. She’s really dull, but not unkind”, Stacy replied. “Do you think you’ll get in?”
“Who couldn’t get in to this school? You have to be currently incarcerated not to get in this place”, interceded Steve.
“That’s good to hear”, Myra said.
“Have you picked a Major yet?” he asked.
“Not yet. I want to be a teacher, but I haven’t picked a subject yet. Maybe English or history.”
“Pick history it’s easier. It’s just a bunch of dates to memorize”, he said.
“No, English is much more interesting. Besides if you want a subject that is easy, then pick P.E. There you just make the kids do all the work”, this time Stacy interrupted.
“I see you guys are getting along”, Don said joining them at the table.
“They were just picking out my major for me”, Myra replied to him. “Steve thinks I should choose history because it’s easier. Stacy prefers English or P.E.”
“I’ll pay for your college if you choose P.E. Seeing you teach a P.E. class would be worth every penny”, Don said. “Besides I thought you had settled on English after your R & J report in high school.”
“R & J report?” asked Rebecca.
“About half way through my junior year of English class I did a report on Romeo and Juliet. It wasn’t a very kind report for Mr. Shakespeare. I basically said it was way past his time and society had moved on. I compared him to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, in terms of humor, drama, and moral lessons. I said Buffy had passed Shakespeare on all accounts, plus was much more relevant to our time and added an underlying philosophy that made those works have much more depth, meaning, and entertainment then the works of one William Shakespeare.”
“Needless to say, my teacher didn’t take to kindly to that report. He failed me. When I asked why, he just gave me some obviously B.S. reason for the grade and refused to change it. So, every thing I did in that class that wasn’t multiple choices was a comparison against Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I failed everything I did from that point forward in that class. Every test, every report, and every homework assignment was an F. Even the quiz that was purely multiple choice I failed some how.”
“So what happened? Did your teacher, through his combativeness, teach you to appreciate the works of earlier artist like Shakespeare?” asked Steve.
“No, I thought Shakespeare had just been eclipsed by more modern artists. I hate Shakespeare now.”
“Then, did he at least eventually see your side of things and change your grade?” asked Stacy.
“No, the only reason I passed was because my mother talked to the principle and got him to change my grade.”
“Then how did that inspire you to become a teacher?” asked Rebecca.
“Because it’s such an important position, and he was terrible at it. I knew I could be a better teacher then him. Then I realized I could probably be better then most of my other teachers as well. Maybe not in their subjects (like math), but as far as teaching, I think I can do it well.”
“Anyways enough about me. What about you guys. What are your majors?” Myra asked.
“I’m studying Electrical Engineering” Steve was the first to answer. “Tell them what you are studying Stacy”, he said taunting her.
“You love when others ask me that question a bit too much. All right, I’m majoring in P.E.”, she said “But hey its better then business management.”
“And yours Rebecca?” Myra asked finally turning to the silent young girl to her left.
“Poli sci” she replied. Myra gave a slight look of disgust, but quickly hid it. But it was too late. “What do you have against politics?”
“Nothing, I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just that my father’s a politician…sort of. I’ve grown to have a distaste for politicians, at least those in Washington. Um, no offense. I’m sure you will be a great politician Rebecca”, she quickly added, trying her best to back peddle from the corner she talked herself into. It didn’t work Rebecca gave her a menacing look as she leaned back in her chair. “Uh, lets not talk about our majors,” Myra said now feeling guilty. “What do you think about the school? Would you recommend it?”
They continued to talk for a period of time after finishing lunch. The conversation covered a wide range of topics, from the school (which they recommended for anyone more interested in how much beer they can drink in one night, then in their grades), to how Steve and Stacy met. Rebecca kept mostly quite, except for a few snide remarks at Myra’s expense. At first, each one made Myra feel even more guilty about her remarks earlier, but as the conversation, and the snide remarks, went on, they began to make her angry. She obviously was either really hurt by what Myra had said, or there was something else. Either way, at every snide remark, Myra told herself to let it go. It was her that started it and Rebecca had every right to be angry.
By the end of the conversation Myra thought she figured out what Rebecca’s hostility was about in the glances she gave Don, and the glances Don gave her, during the conversation. This made her even guiltier, but it was hidden by her anger that was built up during the conversation. “Just let it go Myra”, she told herself at Rebecca’s latest remark. “When is your interview?” Steve asked, interrupting the silence.
“Oh,” she looked at her watch. “Right now. Where is Ms. Grieg’s office?”
“It’s in the liberal arts building. I’ll walk you”, Don replied.
“Thanks,” Myra said with a smile.
“I’ve got a final”, Rebecca said with a blank face, as if she was trying not to look angry. All 5 got up from the table and headed for the exit. Once outside, Steve and Stacy said there good byes, “It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you on campus in the fall,” Stacy said to Myra, and then waved to the others. Rebecca gave a smile and a soft good bye to Don as she headed off to take her final exam.
Don and Myra made there way to the liberal arts building and to Ms. Greig’s office. Don said his good byes in the hallway. Myra gave him a nervous smile, turned and walked to the door. She lifter her hand to knock, but hesitated. The same fear she felt in her dream grabbed her. She turned to look back at Don. He was motioning for her to open the door.
She built up her nerve and knocked on the door. An old voice told her to come in. She opened the door. Relief filled her. This women didn’t look like any of her father’s mistresses, at least not any that she knew about. Her fear now gone, she found her confidence. She walked in and sat down.
Bethany drove up to the restaurant. “Well at least it will be a good meal. I think I’ll have the lobster”, she said to her self as she found a parking spot. She was getting out of her car when her phone rang. She dug her phone out of her small purse and looked at the caller id. With a slight smile she flipped the phone open and hit the talk button. “No I don’t know what he looks like yet. I just got here”, she said without even saying hello.
“So your late…again”, Marie said on the other end of the phone.
Bethany closed and locked her car door and started walking towards the restaurant. “I’m fashionably late. Didn’t you learn anything about dating before you found the love of your life?” she said in a slightly sarcastic tone.
“You can only be fashionably late if you do it on purpose.”
“Says who? You? What are you the god of fashionably lateness?” Bethany said. “Wait, I think I see him.” She stared at him across the street. He had short dark blonde hair. He had a reseeding hairline, but wasn’t yet bald. He was just under 6 feet tall. He wasn’t exactly skinny, but he was far from being fat and did not have a muscular build at all. Even through his sports jacket, she could see he wasn’t well built.
“So…”, Marie said impatiently on the phone.
“Well he isn’t Brad Pitt, but he is definitely doable”, she replied without hiding a slight sense of disappointment.
“You have such a dirty mind,” Marie said.
“That’s why you hang around me. You like to live vicariously”, replied Bethany. “Oh, I think he brought me a rose.”
“Who the hell buys a rose when your meeting the girl at the restaurant? I mean where are you going to keep it through dinner?” Marie said with a slight sense of surprise.
“You’re just jealous that I get more flowers from a guy I’ve never met then you do from the guy you’ve known for years. Besides it’s the thought that counts.”
“He should have put more thought into his thoughtful gift”, replied Marie.
“He spotted me. I have to go”, Bethany hung up her phone and started across the street with the biggest smile she could force herself to wear.
“Hello, you must be John”, she said upon reaching him.
“Yes”, he replied, followed by several seconds of silence. Bethany was waiting patiently for him to give her the rose, yet he never did. Finally Bethany decided to break the uncomfortable silence. “Is the rose for me?” she asked.
“Yes” he replied again and handed the rose over. He was obviously very reserved person. He was also very nervous. This struck Bethany as very odd. Usually men aren’t this nervous on a first date, at least not men as old as him. Unless he just got out of a long relationship or even a marriage. She decided to make it her mission to find out which.
Several more seconds passed in silence as she thought how she would get information about his past relationship out of him. Obviously she couldn’t ask. He would just avoid the question. She had to find some other way.
“Well shall we go inside?” he said finally. She didn’t reply. Instead she smiled, grabbed his arm, and turned toward the restaurant. “At least I can make his first date back memorable”, she thought to herself. They walked in silence to the entrance of the restaurant.
The smell of the various flavors as they entered the restaurant made her realize how hungry she was. It was a Japanese steak house, the kind where they cook your food in front of you. They walked up to the hostess where John inquired about their reservations. The hostess looked his name up on a sheet of paper. She then grabbed a couple of menus and showed them to their seats.
Once comfortably seated Bethany pondered how she should begin the conversation. It was obvious at this point she would have to carry it. “So what is it that you do for a living?” she asked, deciding something a little less personal to start out with.
“I’m an engineer at NASA. I use to help maintain the shuttle, but now I’m helping to design the CEV craft”, he replied.
“That must be exciting”
“Yes, its always much better to design your own stuff, rather then deal with someone else’s”, he said then fell silent again. After a moment, Bethany thought about asking for more details, but realized how thankful she was that he didn’t go on. Instead she said nothing.
“What do you do for a living?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“I’m an administrative assistant to a VP at the National Bank of Florida”, she said.
“Wait National Bank of Florida? How can it be national if it is only of Florida?”, he asked.
“I know. Strange isn’t it. I think they got the name by merging with another bank”, she replied. Another moment of silence passed before Bethany realized he wasn’t going to continue with this conversation. At this rate we will have run out of things to talk about before we even start eating.
“So what do you do after work? Do you have any hobbies?” she asked.
“Not really. I read a lot. I try to keep up with the news. I play video games sometimes”, he said. She quickly dissected what he said in an effort to try to keep this conversation going a little while longer. Video games? Lets not go there.
News? Maybe, but that will lead directly into politics, which is always not a good idea for a first date.
“What books do you like to read? What was the last book you read?” she asked.
“The book I’m reading now is Dragon Lance Legends. It’s a fantasy book based on the Dungeons and Dragons role playing game. I also read a lot of engineering books.” Again the conversation fell into silence and again she was thankful for it. Well that just leaves politics, she thought to herself, but then decided to take a chance instead.
“Do you date a lot?” she asked. She regretted the question right after she asked it. This could lead to a very awkward date.
“No, not really. I’m very introverted, and there aren’t a lot of female engineers. So I don’t meat a lot of interesting women”, he said.
Bethany was trapped between being disappointed in such a boring answer and being relieved it wasn’t a disaster. “So…I mean, have you been involved with anyone?”
“Not really”, he said in a nervous tone, “I mean I’ve dated a couple people for a while, but nothing ever got serious.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that”, she said.
“It’s ok. Really it’s ok”, he said. John’s cell phone began to ring. Bethany waited for John to answer it, but he didn’t seem to notice it. The phone was starting its third ring before John grabbed it from his belt and answered it.
“Hello”, he said into the phone, pausing for a reply. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” he asked. “Well what do the other sensors say?” “Then it has to be a sensor problem.” “Yes I’m sure. Don’t worry about it. I’ll look at it tomorrow.” “Bye.” John hung up and put away his phone. “Sorry” he said to Bethany.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“No, not really. Some sensors were giving some strange readings. It should be easy to fix”, he said. Bethany thought for a moment about asking how John was so sure it was only a sensor problem (especially sense whoever was on the phone thought otherwise), but decided she didn’t really care. Anyways the chef had shown up and was asking about their orders.
Distracted by the chef, the conversation began to become even scarcer. They were mostly silent as the chef did all his tricks before starting the meal. When the chef began making their meal in earnest, the conversation improved only slightly.
When one asked a question, the other would give a one-sentence answer. The other then would decide not to continue with the subject or couldn’t think of any other questions to ask. Bethany even decided to enter the murky waters of politics, but it seems John also knew the rule about not talking politics on the first date. He didn’t express any views really, so the conversation didn’t last but 5 minutes.
They ate mostly in silence. By the end of the meal, Bethany was just a little bored. She was sure John was a much more interesting person, but he just couldn’t relax.
By the time John had signed the credit card receipt, she was ready for the date to be over. They said their good byes outside the restaurant. “It was very nice meeting you”, Bethany said. “You too”, John replied. She then started walking toward her car.
When she was out of ear shot, she got out her phone and hit the speed dial for Marie. “So how did it go”, came Marie’s voice after only a half a ring.
“He was very nice, but forget what I said about being doable. He is definitely better as a friend then a lover.”
Jennifer stood in her condo looking out her window. It was a clear night, but there was no moon. All the natural light came from dim distant stars from above. The city lights lit up the streets below. They were also the only source of light in Jennifer’s living room, having failed to turn on her lights. It gave an odd eerie glow to the room.
The light was the only thing that penetrated the window however. None of the sounds from the busy street made it beyond the window, and there were no sounds from inside, leaving nothing but silence.
Jennifer took a drink from the glass of whisky in her hand as she watched the people below. She remembered the saying people look like ants when looking at them from a tall building. She wasn’t quite that high, but she felt the same disconnection when she stood on top of an anthill. They were down there rushing through their lives and I’m here alone.
The silence suddenly disturbed her. She swallowed the half a glass of whisky and picked up the bottle from the table beside the window. She started to pour another glass, then thought better of it. She left the glass on the table, took a big gulp directly from the bottle and sat down on the couch.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. Images of her husband with that tramp appeared in her mind. Not wanting to confront that just yet, she opened her eyes again, and found herself staring at her family portrait hanging on the wall.
In the picture she was standing next to her husband and their daughter, Myra, was standing in front of them. All of them had really big smiles, as if it was the happiest time in their lives. Was she happy back then? She tried to remember.
No. No, she couldn’t remember a time when she was ever happy, only times when she was pretending to be happy. It was too easy to pretend, and so hard to be.
She turned her attention from herself, to her husband. Was he happy then? She tried to bring the picture into focus, but she had already had half a bottle of whisky. The dark room didn’t help matters. She focused on his eyes. She saw deep sadness in them. She saw a man trapped by his own guilt. She took another large drink from the bottle.
She thought for a second she saw the same look of sadness in her daughter’s eyes as well. She forced herself to look away from the picture. She began to think of what it would be like if she would disappear. She had a terrible husband, but he was a decent father. Certainly he would have no trouble finding comfort with another women, and would probably enjoy the company more. She had no friends, not really. She could manipulate people on a whim, but never learned to make or keep friends.
She had no career. She had spent most of her time helping her husband build his instead of building one of her own. He was very skilled at his job, but any job in Washington D.C. took more then a bit of political finesse, that he just didn’t have.
Myra was grown now. She would be leaving home for college in a few months. Certainly she no longer needed her mother.
Jennifer stood up, but not realizing how drunk she was, she immediately lost her balance and fell to the ground. The whisky bottle made a thump on the carpet as it fell out of her hands, but not much was left to escape onto the floor. Jennifer’s mind began to turn toward the assortment of anti-depressant and other pills in the medicine closet. How much easier it would be just to end it tonight and not have to face her husband in the morning.
No, she told herself. The easiest path has rarely been the best path in her life. That is how she had always known the correct choice, even if she often doesn’t make it. Still what does it matter what the best path is? I will be dead.
It doesn’t even hurt, just a little nausea. I remember, and Myra won’t be here to stop me this time!
The look of terror in Myra’s eyes that morning when she woke up popped in her mind. The sound of her tearful apologies rang in her ears, as if it was her fault and not his! Would she blame herself this time too? She was so young then.
Jennifer looked back at Myra’s picture. She stood up, walked over to it, and reached out her arm to touch Myra’s face. She is older and wiser now, but she still not old or wise. She still has many lessons to learn. Resolved, Jennifer gets the medication from the cabinet, finds the most dangerous of them, and flushes them down the toilet. She still needs me to be strong.
“The colonel will see you now captain.” Michael barely heard the receptionist. What did the colonel need to see me about? Quickly he scanned his mind for anything he might have messed up in the last week. Nothing came up, which made him a bit more afraid. He politely said a thank you and went into his office.
“At ease,” the colonel said even before Michael could stand at attention. “How have you been Michael?”
“I’m swell sir,” Michael thought for a minute. Not generally a way to open if your intention is to chastise someone, but the colonel was famous for trying to put people at ease before really laying into them. He felt it left more of an impression on his subordinates. He decided to take the stance of an army officer at ease, without really being at ease.
“I have something for you,” he reached down into a drawer, pulled out a box, and handed it to Michael. Michael cautiously opened it. Inside was a gold leaf, the insignia of a major. “Congratulations major”
“Gosh, thank you sir,” Michael said. Then a thought crossed his mind. “Is Major Johnson transferring?”
“No, you are. The upper brass in Washington needs help with intelligence briefings and strategic analysis. Your one of the best strategic thinkers I’ve seen in a long while. You can learn a lot from this job, but I wouldn’t expect to be listened to, not as a Major.”
“Golly. Thank you sir. Coming from you, that means a lot. My wife probably won’t like moving again though.”
“She knew what she was getting into when she married an army officer, didn’t she? You did tell her didn’t you?” the colonel said.
“I’m sure she figured it out after the third move. She’s pretty smart. But she didn’t really like any of the moves and we have only been here for a year. Plus it’s the middle of the school year for Davie. I’m going to have a dickens of a time trying to convince her to move again.”
“Well if it helps you out in that regard, you really don’t have a choice. The transfer is an order from the generals in Washington,” the colonel said.
“I don’t think it will help and may even hurt my case.” He noticed the colonel was starting to get annoyed. “I’m sure it will be ok sir and I really do thank you for this opportunity.”
It was a long and dreadful drive home. He always liked to get things done as quickly as possible, especially things he hated doing. So he was driving as fast as possible along the highway, but he couldn’t keep his mind on the road. He nearly side swiped a car when changing lanes, and decided to slow down and concentrate a bit more. If he got in a wreck, that would delay his task. Of course he might also die, but with the safety features in cars these days, he decided not to take the risk.
He pulled into the driveway and walked into his house. Molly came to greet him, but Stevie (their 7 year old son) beat her to him. “Hey tiger,” Michael said, lifting him up in a big hug. “Did you finish your homework? Do you need help with math again?”
“I helped him with it,” Molly said; just before giving him a short kiss. “Dinner is almost here.”
“Here? We are having take out again?” Michael asked, and immediately regretted his tone. Way to butter her up, he thought.
“If you don’t like the way I not cook, then you can not cook yourself,“ she replied. Michael resisted the urge to correct her English. She only said it because it bothered him. It was a way of showing her displeasure without saying something that would really get under his skin.
“I have some news”, he said instead.
“Good news or bad news?”
“I’ve been promoted,” he said without answering her last question. It only took her a fraction of a second for her to figure it out.
“You have been transferred. Can you get out of it?” she said.
“Gosh Molly, don’t you think we should talk about it first? It does mean more money and better benefits for us.”
“One, we are talking about it. Two, you care even less about the money then I do. And three, don’t talk to me in that tone” she said. Michael quickly decided the best reply is to say nothing, for the moment.
“Where?” Molly said after a moment.
“Washington”
“Seattle?”
“D. C.”
Another moment of silence passed. “You have already made up your mind?” Molly said.
“Yes”
“What if I don’t go with you?” she said.
“Don’t say that,” Michael said with a hurt look on his face.
“It isn’t fair to Stevie,” she said.
“It isn’t fair to you either,” he replied.
“And still you’ve made up your mind?” she said. Michael didn’t reply to this. “You really do care more about your career then your family don’t you?”
“You know that isn’t true,” he replied.
“No, you care more about your duty and country then us. You always have, and I never understood why. I can’t keep doing this and not understand why you value them more then us.”
“You are really smart, very courageous, very strong women. The best that I’ve known and the best mother I’ll ever meet. If god were to take me, then I have no doubt you would be ok. But not everyone is like you. Most people don’t have what you have. It is our duty to help them however we can, for the betterment of us all. Otherwise, what would become of the world? This is the path I have chosen. This is the path that you have chosen by marrying me. I’m going to Washington D. C. Will you come with me?”
The doorbell rang, interrupting her reply. “Dinner is here, “ she said, her tone still very angry. Michael was thankful for the interruption. He was sure she was going to say no. But they both knew neither had a choice in the matter. They are who they are, and that is the path they lead.
It was late at night. President Adams sat in the oval office reading an intelligence report. He needed to catch up, or his advisers would have to explain it to him in the morning, which would cause the meeting to run long, which would throw off his entire day. Of course his day was thrown off by something every day.
Nearly a year in office and his last meeting of the day had never started on time (or anywhere close to it). But tomorrow would be the day it happened!
He had thought briefly about reading the report in bed, but then he leaned back in his chair and decided to stay right were he was. He had learned a lot about the oval office. He had learned about its construction in a documentary, the paintings and furniture in a book, and the fact that it was designed to intimidate visitors on the West Wing. However, nobody had mentioned how comfortable the chairs were. He made a mental note to mention it the next chance he got.
He heard a knocking on the door. It made a thud that echoed in the room, but it was so low that it was barely audible. It occurred to the President that he had never before heard someone knocking on that door. Everyone just barges in. “Come in”
A very young woman, 19 perhaps, walked in. She wore a tight low cut blouse and a skirt that ended well above her knees. On most 19 year old, it would have been a very sexy outfit. However, both the blouse and skirt was at least a couple of sizes to small for her body. He wondered how she got into the building, much less into his office looking like that. Then he realized everyone that would have sent her home (or fired her on the spot) isn’t here.
“Good evening Mr. President. Stacy asked me to see to your needs,” she said nervously. “Do you have any needs?” She sounded like she was trying to be sexy, but her nerves were causing her voice to quiver. He decided to ignore it.
“No, I’m just trying to finish some reading before I go to bed,” he said.
She stood there for a moment, gazing at the ground and shifting her wait from foot to foot. “I’m willing to see to any of your needs,” she said looking up.
That was blunt, was the first thought that crossed his mind. The next 2 thoughts came to him simultaneously. They were: I should just have her thrown out of the building and be done with it, and She does look kind of sexy in those clothes. The next 2 simultaneous thoughts were: There is no way I could get away with sleeping with her, with the media being the way it is these days, and There is no way I could get away with being so cruel to this girl, with the media being the way it is these days.
A few moments of silence fell between them, as she was obviously trying to figure out what the president was thinking. “Have you ever had sex in the oval office?” she said.
“No, my wife and I were always scared the secret service would walk in on us.” It was a lie. It was only because the opportunity hasn’t yet presented itself.
“I wouldn’t mind if they did.” He had been feeling uneasy since she walked into the room, but he hadn’t really been afraid until she said this.
“I’m sorry, but…” The sound of the door opening interrupted him. A military office walked in, and upon seeing stood straight.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but they need you in the situation room immediately,” he said.
“Oh, thank god…um, I mean we will have to continue this conversation at another time,” he said to the young lady, who also looked relieved.
The president was surprised to see as many people in the room as there was. There were the usual people, secretary of defense, national security advisor, CIA director, along with the assortment of generals and their assistants. The chairmen of the joint chiefs of staff, General Mac (as he likes to be called), gave him an ominous look as he meant to say, “Don’t screw this up kid.” He was getting older now, nearing 60. He was completely bold. The president was never quite sure if he had lost his hair a long time ago, or if he shaved it everyday. “He probably shaves it,” the president concludes every time he considers the subject.
Even without the look, the president felt his presence when he was in the same room, doubly so with the look. This is partially due to his physical presence. He was very tall, even when sitting down he seemed a head taller then everyone else.
He was also very muscular. If he were anyone else, the president would have nick named him “tiny”.
His demeanor didn’t make the president feel anymore comfortable either. He always had a serious look, as if he were the only thing stopping the world from destroying his country. He never laughed at the president’s jokes (not that anybody else did either), or anyone’s jokes (except, on occasion, his own). He always had a cigar in his mouth, although he never lit it when he was at the white house. At first, he did actually smoke it everywhere, with the exception of the oval office.
The president continually asked him to stop, and was ignored. Finally, the president signed a decree forbidding smoking in the white house (although that was the defacto rule before). In a show of defiance, or perhaps just because he liked the feel, General Mac kept his cigars, chewing on it instead of smoking it.
He became famous after Taiwan declared independence from China. At the time he was in command of the US military forces in the Far East. He ordered his men into Taiwan to meet the advancing Chinese army. China was forced to back down and negotiate.
In reality, he fully intended to engage the Chinese army. The Chinese economy was growing, as the US’s was shrinking, which meant it would over take it in a few short years. It would give China more power, militarily, economically, and politically, then the US. It would make China, not only a super power; it would make them the super power.
General Mac felt it would only be a matter of time before the 2 armies fought each other, and decided it would be better now then later. He was using Taiwan as an excuse for conflict. It was only the fact that the previous president ordered him not to engage, and his second in command to relieve him if he disobeyed that order.
Thankfully the previous president was much more cunning then the general. When he sent his orders, he sent it through channels he knew would get intercepted by the Chinese. The Chinese, facing a general (with an army, at the time, more powerful then there’s), opted to negotiate rather then engage.
Of course all of this was kept secret from the public, both Chinese and US. It made General Mac look like the hero, avoiding a war instead of trying to create one. He became beloved by the people because of that, and he was respected by the military due to his toughness, and his unwavering dedication to his country.
He held everyone in contempt, but none more so then the president. They disliked each other from their first meeting. The president considered firing him, but due to his popularity, there was no way to do so politically. If he tried, the senate would just hold up anybody else he would nominate. So he did the only thing he could do, he promoted him to the join chiefs of staff. Later he promoted him to chairmen as part of a compromise for his replacement in the Far East.
“What’s going on?” he asked, walking to his chair at the head of the table.
“I think you might want to sit down for this,” said the chief of staff. The president started to protest, but realized he was at his seat anyways. “Major, if you will please.”
“Thank you sir. Good evening Mr. President. This is difficult to explain. I think I should start by saying this isn’t a joke,” he said.
“You realize by bringing that up, you making me think it really is a joke,” the president said.
“Good point sir, but this really isn’t a joke. We have reports in at least 3 different cities of, well alien kidnappings.”
“Those Mexicans are at it again eh?”
“No, sir. I mean aliens from…you know…outer space.”
“So their Canadians then?”
“Um…no…no sir. Their…”
“Look guys I like a practical joke as much as the next guy, and it did get me out of a potentially bad situation, but it’s a bit late for this. Isn’t it? I have a lot of reading to do.”
“Sir,“ the chief of staff to his left said, “I swear to you this isn’t a joke. It looks like we are being attacked by aliens. Either that, or the Mexican’s have some seriously cool new toys.”
“What do you mean attacked? I would have assumed the white house would be their first target,” the president asked.
“It looks like there were incursions that abducted several people on U.S. soil, plus we have reports of many more of such incursions across the globe. Twenty-eight U. S. citizens were taken, and there were 17 casualties. The good news is that they took 9 casualties, plus we managed to take one alive. Also secretary Stone’s wife and kid are missing, but we are not able to determine if that is connected.”
The president looked to his secretary of defense with a sympathetic look. He opened his mouth to comfort him, but realized no words would do the trick. He turned his attention back to the major. He thought he sensed a look of relief from Secretary Stone’s face. “So little green men came down to earth kidnapped a bunch of people, and now we have one locked up some where?” the president asked.
“No, sir, their not green, or little. They look exactly like us. They look human,” the major said.
“You have one alive? What is he saying? What do they want with us?” the president asked.
“We don’t know sir. I mean he is alive and well, but he doesn’t speak English, and well we don’t have any weird alien language translators on staff. I told you before, we needed more language experts in the military,” this time the Secretary Stone spoke. The president started to say this was no time for jokes, but realized aliens were invading us, and decided it was a perfect time for a joke.
“Do we have any clue were these people were taken?” asked the president.
“Yes sir, the aliens seem to have several ships in orbit. We are tracking 5 with ground-based telescopes. We think they were all taken there,” the Major answered this time.
“Do we have any weapons that can reach them? Do we have anything we can use to defend ourselves at all?” asked the President.
“Our ballistic missiles should be able to reach them, but I doubt we will be able to take them out with one,” the national security advisor answered. “It will take several minutes to reach them, and in that time it’s likely they will just maneuver out of the way. Plus, we have nearly mastered the art of shooting down incoming missiles. We have to assume they have and can possibly set off the nuclear warhead just after lift off. Then there is the fact that we would be killing American hostages if we did succeed.”
“What about when they come down for more hostages? We can’t reach them while they are out of the atmosphere, but when they inter our atmosphere; we can just attack them with jets. Right?” the president asked.
“Yes sir,” the Air Force general answered this time. “We already have the jets launched. We, of course, have no way of knowing how effective they will be, but if they decide to come down again, we will find out.”
“What about area 51? Don’t we have one of their ships? What do we know of their weapons and armaments?” This question was asked by one of the suites the president didn’t recognize.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” asked the president.
“Mark, sir. Mark Ridge from NASA.”
“Mr. Ridge, “ the CIA director said “the U. S. government has never had any record of an alien crash, or aliens in general.”
“How could all the conspiracies be completely wrong?” asked Mark.
“Because, “ the CIA director said with a large smile. “We worked very hard to make sure the conspiracies were believable. Every single UFO we have investigated turned out to be either completely unknowable or completely explainable. We only classified them to give credence to the conspiracies. It allows extra cover for our aircraft experiments in Nevada. If anyone spots one of our aircraft over the desert, they assume it’s a UFO. Even if they don’t the reporter will report it that way. It instantly discredits them.”
“And the Roswell crash? It never happened?”
“Oh there was a crash. We experimented with flying saucers back in the day. It turns out they don’t really fly very well. You should have seen the mannequins that came out of the cockpit. Now those looked like aliens!”
“What are our options? What do we do now?” the president interrupted. Normally, he would find this conversation very amusing. But today, he was distracted.
“The incidents are already all over the news. There is no reason to keep this secret. We should inform the local police and emergency personnel with any information we have on these invaders. We have already launched our fighters. We are in the works of recalling all of our military personnel on leave, and activating the reserve. We should consider deploying them into the streets of our major cities,” Mandy Hadly, the national security advisor, said.
“Have they attacked the cities?” the chief of staff asked.
“Not yet, but it is the quickest way of protecting the most people,” Mandy replied.
“What about the shuttle?” the chief of staff asked. “Could we use the shuttle to dock with one of these space ships? Maybe do a little invading of our own?”
“Even if we cut all the corners, it will take days to prepare the shuttle. We would miss the current launch window. Plus we don’t yet know of any way of docking or getting aboard, and I seriously doubt we could do it without them knowing about it or destroying the shuttle on approach,” Mark said.
“Start preparations on the shuttle anyways. We might find a use for it,” the president ordered. “Is there any other way of reaching the enemy crafts? Are there any civilian crafts that can reach them?”
“No sir. All the civilian crafts can’t reach their altitude,” Mark said. The president already knew the answer. After previous administrations cut NASA’s budget, the agency was forced to cut most of its manned space exploration, including the shuttle’s replacement. Instead, they extended the life of the shuttle and even that was dramatically cut back. They only had launched once a year now.
“Could China or India’s crafts fare better?” the president asked.
This immediately sparked a stern response from General Mac. “You can not possibly be thinking of trusting our country’s safety to our enemy? They are just as likely to sell us out to these aliens as help us.”
“They could launch sooner, but would otherwise have the same problems as us. Regardless, there is nothing we could do to help any such mission,” Mandy said, ignoring General Mac’s comments.
“We should share any intelligence we have about these aliens with them. I’m never going to get used to saying things with the word ‘alien’ in them,” the president said. “If we can’t reach them in orbit, then what about on the ground. Other then deploying the air force and army, what options do we have?”
“None sir. The only thing we can do now is wait and see what happens next,” Mandy said.
