—I’ll try.
—There is no try.
—What?
—Just do it.
—I will if you stop talking!
—Don’t push me, Eva, or I’ll leave you here with your hands glued to your chest like a bunny.
OK. Getting up 101. I’m gonna crouch. There’s no weight on Themis’s legs, so she’ll just bring her knees up. You have to push up a little with your elbows and bend down at the same time so Themis ends up with her legs in a ball.
—Like that?
—Yes! There you go! Push with your hands all the way up. Push hard! Push! OK, just stay like that. Now for the tricky part. I’m gonna extend my legs. That’ll bring us up, but you have to straighten your back at the same time. Not too early, not too late, or we’ll just lunge forward and break a bunch of trees.
—Yes! Yes! Do it now. My arms hurt!
—Here we GO! Whoa! Shit! We’re up. Don’t move. Don’t do anything.
—That was fun.
—Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? What do you say we call it a day? We can try and really hurt ourselves tomorrow.
—OK.
—OK? That’s all you have to say?
—I’m hungry.
—Me too, now that you mention it. OK. Let’s get her down!
—Down?
—Yeah down! We need Themis to lie down if we want to get out.
—You mean fall again?
—No. I’m crouching, just keep the balance a bit. I’ll make us fall forward now. You have to bend backwards a little and catch us with your hands. Like that. Now bend forward, lift her butt up and I can…stretch my legs. Stand straight, and she’s…down for the night. Just stay put. I’ll unstrap myself and come take your helmet off.
—I can do it!
—No, don’t! It makes Themis look like an idiot.
—What? How?
—She’s still moving with you. She’ll turn off with her hands around her head, makes her look like she’s pulling her hair or something. Let me do it, keep her dignity intact.
There. Let’s get you out of your straitjacket.
—Can I ask you something?
—Why do you do that? Ask if you can ask a question? Has anyone ever said no?
—I—
—Just ask!
—You never told me what made you change your mind.
—About what?
—About my trying on the controls.
—Your mom did. I mean Kara. That, and Luke.
—Who?
—Skywalker…Never mind. I was hoping we could sit down for this. Have a cup of…whatever it is you ten-year-olds drink.
—Can we talk about it now?
—OK then. Kara, she sent me a letter when…I guess it was the night before you met her. She wasn’t sure she was gonna make it out of there alive, and she asked me to promise a few things in case she didn’t. It’s a shitty thing to do to anyone in a letter, but I would have lost that argument anyway if she’d been around. Anyway, she asked me to…to let you figure things out for yourself, to let you be what you wanted to be.
I was fine with it. I was fine with it until you told me you wanted to pilot Themis. That was just…wrong, on so many levels. First, Kara also made me promise to keep you safe. There’s nothing safe about being in here. This has to be one of the least safe places, anywhere. And it’s her place. Kara and I got together at that station, right where you’re standing…without the phone books. To let anyone take her place…I don’t know, that meant letting her go. I don’t want to let her go.
—You don’t have to.
—I wasn’t finished. There’s also why you wanted to get in here in the first place. You said that’s what Alyssa made you for. You said you were a tool. That got me angry. It seemed so…cruel. You…You’re not a toaster, or a screwdriver. You’re not just a means to an end. You get to decide what you are. You’re my kid! You’re not a tool!
One morning, I was in the shower and I flipped my knees—I do it from time to time or it’ll hurt like hell when I have to do it. I was feeling the metal in my kneecap with my fingers, running my hand up and down my shin. My whole legs are metal. All the bones, all the joints. I…I felt like Luke staring at his mechanical hand after he cut Darth Vader’s with his lightsaber. I’m a tool too. I’m someone’s handiwork.
I don’t know if I ever really had much of a choice, but I like to think I did. And I chose that. I chose to do what they made me for, serve my purpose. They made me into a screwdriver, and I chose to drive screws. It just seemed hypocritical for me to deny you that same choice. I would be saying “you can be what you wanna be, except what you were made for.”
You were right. You’re a tool. You’re someone else’s handiwork. This is why you were created. But you’re more than that, Eva. So much more. You’re a bright kid, with some serious but not insurmountable emotional issues. You do have a choice. You can choose to be…You can join the Army, or be a musician. You can be a scientist, a chef, a ballerina. You were made for a particular purpose, but you can be anything you want. Anything, including that.
I wish you could deal with all this ten years from now, but we might not have ten years. So if you choose to be a ballerina, we’d better get going on those dance lessons.
FILE NO. 1623
PERSONAL JOURNAL ENTRY—DR. ROSE FRANKLIN, HEAD OF SCIENCE DIVISION, EARTH DEFENSE CORPS
I’m important, “useful” is what he said. That’s why I’m alive. I’m supposed to do something. I don’t know what that is, but given our circumstances, it has to be something like saving the world. That’s what I was told. That’s right. Someone told me that. He told me the same way he said it might be too early for kung pao chicken. How does one process that kind of information? Did I need to know? Would I not have done it otherwise? Will knowing stop me from doing it?
I’d love to believe it. I’d love to be special. But I’m not. I’m not important. I’m not a savior. I wish I were. The only thing that stopped me from taking my own life is that people were dying by the millions. I thought I could…do something. I thought I could help. I never thought I could do it on my own, but that’s why I stayed. I thought…I hoped I might be important.