What We Waken (Chapter 10)


A bit of background, you see. In grad school I figured out something involving the production of carbon nanotubes, drastically reducing costs. Someone noticed and someone else noticed and then I got hired at a private space company. After [BIG OWNER PERSON] had a rather public melt-down/spat with a [MAJOR POLITICAL OFFICIAL], the company was dissolved in basically a fit. It was a weird time, during the whole [ORANGE FUCKWIT] presidency thing but before he went so far off the rails that even the rather complicit and docile Republican party disowned him. This did not involve Russian plots but open talk of selling the recently vacated vice presidential seat. As in, "I will have to see what kind of donations come in before making a decision." And even then the removal from office vote was close.

Oh and if you're thinking this is some kind of liberal talking, fuck you. I am no liberal; remember me as a revolutionary communist.

Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. But the new administration after the hastily called upon and prepared and ran election wanted to diverge as promptly and as severely as possible from the last tragedy. And so here I am; a token. Like everyone else here. A token on a mission to bring humanity together.

It's bullshit.

If you want to know just how bullshit, then realize there are 6 of us on the surface of the planet. I am a mid-western American tranny of some Eastern European extraction. Carter is from Virginia. Daliah is a black lady who was born in Somalia but came to the U.S. as an infant. Then there's the Mexican, Diaz. We're not all American, Simon is French Canadian, which is even more French than France. Chewy is a Maori, I think. I never bothered to ask. Maybe something else. I honestly didn't care. I liked ze because ze didn't talk much.

And above us on Phobos was Xi was Chinese-American. Lloyd? Someone has to be the old white guy; though he converted to Islam some time in the past decade. I wonder which way he faces when he prays. Not important. Just idle curiosity.

We did know what we were doing, but we were all tokens. We were all chosen to adhere to key demographics. That may be the cynic in me, but I remember the meetings and memos and the one time my superior gave me a USB drive with some memos that I was pretty sure I shouldn't have copied to my own personal USB drive and yet, here we are. 

But here we are. And now with a mystery. Why a shovel was on the fucking surface of a planet that had never been visited before. I think you think you know the answer. And maybe you know part of it. But trust me. It's not just that.