Esther tried to avoid looking too uncomfortable in her chair. She hated doing media appearances. Every minute she was on screen was another minute that anyone's personal computer assistant could use analyzing her face and identifying her. Expert as Esther was in close or ranged combat, she had enough cognizance of her own human limitations to know that drones were her worst enemy. Esther was just lucky that she had spent her prime fighting years in a time period when drone technology was relatively crude. It also helped that Esther had joined the group with the best drone technology- a supplement to an army that, cybernetic enhancements notwithstanding, was actually quite small in terms of sheer numbers.
Of course, Huma wasn't going to care about any of that. These interviews were always fluff appearances. That was another reason Esther hated doing them. Still, this was the price she had to pay for time off when the situation in Chicago was so delicate. Of course, Barack didn't think the situation was in any kind of serious jeopardy at all, and probably would have been willing to let Esther take a break without her having to make any kind of compromise. All the same, Esther had a bad feeling about Chicago. Agreeing to do the interview was a way to preempt guilt.
Looking around the studio, Esther was unnerved. Bright lights. The wide open stage could be seen from anywhere. Concealed entrances. This place was a death trap. The complete absence of any human presence in the giant performance complex was disconcerting. Of course the interview had to take place in the New Kennedy Center, because the sheer scale of the building and the constantly changing interior decorations of that sheer scale made it difficult to fake. Esther could never make any sense out of the strange gimmicks broadcasts had to use now to convey legitimacy. From where she was sitting the walls were pulsating and disgusting, as if she were inside an animal's body. Some fashion Esther would just never get used to.
But even once Esther was out of the New Kennedy Center and back out on the relatively normal streets, risk yet remained. With every legitimate media appearance she did, Esther greatly increased the odds that someone would get accurate enough voice samples to be able to make a false vocal recording. Esther dreaded the prospect of someone using a fake version of her voice to confuse the Social Justice Army at a critical moment. Her only comfort was knowing that among the enemies she had faced so far, none were sophisticated enough or smart enough or had enough personpower to pull off an operation of such magnitude.
And then there was Huma. Esther had nothing against Huma personally, but Huma always talked to and about Esther as if the latter person was an abstract concept, or a deity, rather than a living human being. But then again Huma herself treated herself in the same fashion, so it's not like the snub was particularly personal.
At just the moment of that thought, Huma walked onto the stage, heavily made up in bright gaudy clothes. She waved and kissed to ones of cameras toward her invisible adoring audience. Lately Esther had been watching old television shows while training, and had been wondering how it was that the laughtracks and clapping of yesteryear sounded so fake compared to whatever it was Huma would splice into the finished interview today. Esther also idly wondered who was operating the camera. Was it a person, by remote control? Or was that job, too, now performed by robots? Esther immediately understood that it was her turn to put on a show for the phantom audience. Esther stood up, smiled, and offered her hand for Huma to shake, which Huma took in with her own broad smile, going even further as to give Esther a warm hug.
"It's so good to see you!" Huma said, communicating vivaciousness, allowing a deliberate pause and yet another smile flashed to the camera before she started to sit down. Esther detected her movement, and sat at the same time. It was then Esther remembered something else that was different about older television. Back then it was the guests who provoked furious cheering and applause more than the host directly.
"Yes, it's nice to see you too," said Esther, trying her best to avoid sounding too stiff. She tried to loosen up by thinking tactically again. How much small arms fire could the recording equipment take if used as a shield? Probably not much. Recording technology was way too small for that now. Which at least made it a smaller target.
"Now, for those viewers today who do not know," Huma continued, "I've been a long time fan of Commander Okerye's work with the Social Justice Army. I've been told that you have the highest confirmed kills of any commander, is that right?"
"Yes," Esther said. "But commanders aren't supposed to be killing anyone in person."
When Esther made this statement, she was thinking of her own misgivings regarding how the Social Justice Army was organized. Supposedly they were a paramilitary organization, but they lacked any proper sense of military discipline. On far more occasions than Esther would have preferred, her subordinates would break ranks and fall into a trap, having misread the situation as a flawless victory. When these times came, Esther had to salvage the situation personally. Even if the battle was "won" in the sense that the Rainbow Shirts had the higher body count, the actual objective was almost always lost, since Esther was forced to lead a a hasty retreat as a hedge against further ambushes, victory being defined as however many kills were captured by the body cameras, tallied for each side like they were at a sporting event.
"I had an inkling you might say that," replied Huma with a sly smile. "But as usual, I did my homework."
At this, Esther brightened just a little. She had always wanted a public platform with which to discuss the Rainbow Shirts' personnel management issues.
"And according to my sources," Huma continued, "you still have the highest number of confirmed kills, by quite a large margin, even when compared against operatives with more combat-centric positions. Is that true?"
Straightaway Esther's mood sank. If there was anything she hated, it was positive-minded cheerleading.
"Well will you look at that?" said Huma, ever perceptive. "Someone is just a little too modest to talk about their achievements in full."
Esther forced another smile. She knew this was going to be unpleasant from the get-go. It's not like this was a surprise or anything.
"But I'm not here to flatter you Commander," Huma continued. "My viewers are interested in getting to know the real you, in your own words."
Oh no, thought Esther. This wasn't going to be one of those interviews, was it?
"I'd like to talk about your family," Huma said. "Now, I understand that this might be a touchy subject, and if you don't want to get into it then-"
"No," Esther said. "It's fine. Maybe it would do people well to know why I fight."
Deep down Esther tried as hard as she could to believe that. It was the only way she could think of to make this experience tolerable.
"Tell me about your foreign-born parent," said Huma.
"He was the product of another era," Esther said. "He was an immigrant back when people actually wanted to live in the United States. He studied business management at Harvard, and came to Iowa because he thought that real estate market was underserved and underestimated in that area."
"And when was this?" asked Huma, who had suddenly taken a vaguely hostile tone.
A big reason why Esther hated these kinds of interviews so much on a conceptual level is that she knew, and Huma also knew, the answers to all of these questions. It was all on the Internet anyway. What was the point of describing her life story, in her own words, when everyone who cared already knew what had happened?
"2004," said Esther, somewhat tersely. Esther realized that the sense of hostility from Huma was due to Esther using gendered terms. Esther could never quite wire her brain in such a way to do away with them altogether. Gendered information was too potentially useful to ignore, even if gender didn't really exist anymore. "This was before the financial crash. Years before, actually. My...immigrant parent was able to build a thriving successful business up until that point."
"And your other parent?" asked Huma, brightening up again.
"They met each other in 2006," said Esther, careful to mind her pronouns. Having to moderate her speech like this was another reason why Esther hated making public statements. "They decided they wanted to be together, and got married in 2008, on February 5th..
"Is there any special significance to that date?" asked Huma.
"Yes, it was Super Tuesday. They were actually expecting Hillary Clinton to win the primary, and wanted to celebrate. They were happy, of course, to celebrate Barack Obama's victory instead."
"You yourself are a bit like our former President, in that you're the child of an African immigrant parent?"
"...I guess?" said Esther, not fully understanding the significance of the statement.
"Naturally your immigrant parent could not vote," said Huma, "although we don't need to get into the details of that. So what happened next?"
"The housing market crashed. My parents lost everything. Except me. I guess I was a bit of a liability by the time I showed up."
"Yes," Huma replied sagely. "Your parents were religious, so I imagine the prospect of abortion didn't occur to them."
"They were Jewish," said Esther.
"We should talk about that more," said Huma. "Did they face much bigotry, being Jewish people living in such a homogenous community as Cedar Rapids?"
"I don't really know," said Esther. "I wasn't really old enough to have any memories of what happened at the time."
"But you do remember what happened next?"
Esther sighed. This much was allowed, as they were now at the most unpleasant part of the story.
"Yes. My immigrant parent was murdered by bigots who have never been identified. They carved swastikas into that person's face and spray painted ethnic slurs onto that person's body. Do I need to go into how the body was strung up?"
"No, that's fine," Huma said. "Please continue."
"The insurance company refused to pay out, claiming that the incident was a suicide. The issue was buried. My childhood was spent in miserable poverty."
"And after your childhood?"
"When I became old enough to start earning a living for my family, I started working in drainage. Sewers," said Esther, quickly realizing from the look on Huma's face that she wasn't sure what drainage was. "The people I met there vouched for my self-taught ability in hand-to-hand combat, allowing me jobs in the private sector for military contracting. That was how I spent most of my late teens and twenties. Then the Great Blackout happened and I found myself joining the, um, Rainbow Shirts, which at the time were still a new organization. One that quickly became badly needed in the new world."
"Yes," said Huma nodding, with obvious hint of a melodramatic pause. "It's fortunate they got you around then isn't it?"
"Well it wasn't just me," said Esther. "We got most of our initial recruits about then. And afterwards finding new people was a lot easier, thanks to our reputation."
There was an extended pause. Finally, Huma did a hand signal to the cameras, and they briefly powered down. Esther was unnerved by how much creepier the pulsating multicolored walls of the New Kennedy Center looked in the dark.
"I know I can seem like a bit of an airhead," Huma said, trying to maintain a pleasant tone. "But I have to stick with the staples for the most part because not everyone knows your story. You know that."
"Right, I'm not holding it against you," said Esther.
"Nor I you," said Huma, with a smile this time that almost seemed genuine. "So how about for just a minute, we talk about what you want to talk about. Anything you want. I might not splice it into the final interview. It's just to help your rhythm you know."
"Well," said Esther, perking up a little. "Sure, why not?"
"OK," said Huma, "what question should I ask you?"
"Ask me about my combat techniques."
"All right," said Huma, smiling as she used a different hand signal to bring the lights back up. "So Esther, what have you been working on lately?"
"I like to study martial arts," said Esther, brightening. "And my big kick lately has been trying to invent the ultimate move."
"The ultimate move?" asked Huma. "What does that mean?"
"Martial arts generally have lethal purposes," said Esther. "Much like any other form of serious combat, you can't risk trying to take people alive like you do in comic books. Anyone who can put up a good enough fight, especially with modern cybernetic technology, can and will kill you even at a moment of perceived weakness. The ultimate move is designed to be able to fully disable any opponent by cutting off their possible counter-attacks one by one. That way, by the time you get to the most fiercely defended area, the brain, it's possible to deliver a non-lethal knockout blow with minimal resistance, not leaving yourself open."
"I, um," I see," said Huma, clearly not grasping the significance.
"Well, you know chess right?" asked Esther.
"A little patriarchal for my tastes," said Huma, coldly.
"Fine, how about," Esther was about to say Othello, but quickly realized that the name of that game might give Huma the wrong idea, "uh, Go."
"Go?"
"You know, the one played with the little black and white stones, and you're trying to surround your opponent."
"Ah, yes!" said Huma. "I think I know that one. Much more three-dimensional than chess, right? Much more popular in China than chess, right?"
Esther had to make a conscious effort to avoid letting her facial expression give away baffled shock. Go was not a three-dimensional game. It was explicitly two-dimensional. The game was played in Asia but wasn't particularly popular compared to other similar board games. Chinese chess being one of them. Granted, Esther's information was out of date. But supposedly, Huma had an augment that enhanced her memory to the point of perfect recall. Where could she have possibly sourced such an outrageously wrong statement, and how could she be so oblivious as to how wrong she was?
"Sure," said Esther, trying to maintain her speaking rhythm and not get bogged down in the details. "The point is that in Go, you make one move, and you can predict the rest of the moves on the board. You can cut down your opponent's options one by one. My move works the same way. I predict natural combat reactions and defenses, go after undefended zones one by one, eventually getting a clear shot at the head."
"I see," said Huma, apparently filled with wonder. Esther suddenly felt foolish for having felt the need to use a specific game as an example, since nearly any adversarial board game worked upon these very basic principles. Still, the principle of checkmate was the best metaphor for what her move was trying to do. It was surprisingly difficult to come up with similar terms for other games.
"But when would you ever use such an ability?" asked Huma.
"That's the rub, I'm afraid," said Esther. "It would have to be against an opponent in a one on one situation, where neither of us has backup, where my opponent is just skilled enough to be dangerous but not so skilled I have to go against this person all out. And of course I would want to catch this person alive."
"Yes, yes," said Huma. "You have many allies in the Rainbow Shirts, so when would this ever come up?"
"Well," said Esther, "you never know is the thing. Most of these weird strategies or moves I come up with, I never need to use them. Every so often, though, I need a non-standard tactic. It's times like that I'm glad I have this hobby, of just coming up with weird plans."
Huma put her chin on her hand and just stared at Esther a little bit with starstruck wonder. Esther winced a little on the inside. She really hoped that Huma wasn't going to try and ask her on a date again. Esther couldn't stand this kind of hero worship.
"And that's that," said Huma, shutting off the cameras again. "Let's take a break. Try and mix and match the normal with the irregular some more. I'm sure we can get a decent interview done before the day is out."
Esther nodded. As trivial and superficial as these interviews were, and as much as she hated doing them, there was a definite craft to Huma's technique. And with that Esther could feel a grudging personal respect to the woman. No, Esther did not have much interest in telling the world her story. Nor did she think such work was important. All the same, not everyone agreed, and really, creepy atmosphere notwithstanding- Esther had experienced more awkward and unpleasant days than this in the past.