Presidential Archives, 2023-2060
North American Union Records Administration
Name: JULIAN ANDRE BURNS
Region: NORTH
Affiliation: MODERATE
Term: 2041-2050
Nation of Birth: CANADA
Regional Secretary: SARAH CLINTON
Name: HORATIO JOAQUIN AVENHAM
Region: EAST
Affiliation: CONSERVATIVE
Term: 2047-2052
Regional Secretary: JESSINDA ALVAREZ
Name: MARITA COVARRUBIAS
Region: SOUTH
Affiliation: MODERATE
Term: 2045-2055
Nation of Birth: UNITED STATES
Regional Secretary: GIBSON PRAISE
Name: LEONARD ALBERT HOSTEEN
Region: WEST
Affiliation: TRIBAL
Term: 2047-2051
Nation of Birth: UNITED STATES
Regional Secretary: JEMAINE AS HE STANDS
The SRP's rooms were decorated in a late 20th century style. Florals and pastels all over the furniture and art that hung on the walls. The decor was bright and cheery, but her rooms stayed dark all day and all night, lit only by lamps and LEDs to keep out the sun.
Mary followed Lieutenant Skinner until they came to a stop inside the sitting room. Mary didn't notice the other Guards at first, standing at each corner, silent, awaiting orders. And then there was her aide, sitting across the room. Mary wasn't sure of his name. She thought she'd heard the SRP call him Gilbert or Gibson, something like that.
"Ma'am," Skinner said. "Corporal Mary Scully."
She's sitting on a couch, still dressed in her black outfit from earlier, swiping through her phone. She looks up, setting her phone down. "Thank you, Skinner."
He leaves, shutting the door behind him. Mary felt sad for a second. Couldn't he stay? She wasn't sure how she felt being with the SRP in this manner, like she'd been pushed out into the middle of the sea with nothing to hold on to.
"Leave us," the SRP says to the other Guards, and they salute her, walking out the door. Her aide remained seated.
"You, too," she said to him
"Ma'am," he said, standing to salute her, then walking out.
Mary looked around with her eyes, trying not to turn her head; they were completely alone. Didn't this go against some kind of protocol? Had she done something wrong earlier?
"Come sit here by me," the SRP says after a minute. Her voice, when it she's not giving speeches, has a strange lilt to it; quiet and slow.
Mary sat down next to her, unsure of how to sit. How does one sit next to the SRP? Should she cross her legs? Where should she put her hands?
The SRP looked at her for a few seconds, and Mary slowly returned her gaze. She was probably a beautiful woman once. All the surgeries and makeup helped a little, but her eyes still blinked out of sync, and her skin was bumpy and uneven where the scars were. Mary wasn't sure how old she was, and all the scarring prevented even a slight estimate.
"No need to be anxious," she said. "You're not in any trouble."
Mary wanted to relax a little, but she remained stiff with nervousness.
"I wanted to talk to you, because it seems we have some things in common."
Mary didn't know how to respond. This was weird, right?
"I was looking at your personnel file," she nodded to her phone. "I knew your grandparents. Especially your grandfather."
"Oh." Mary said. This wasn't the first time someone had said this to her. It seemed quite a few people knew them or knew of them. When Lieutenant Skinner was still a Dean at the academy, he'd mentioned knowing of her grandparents. His father had worked with them.
"He passed away a few years ago, your grandfather? I'm very sorry for your loss."
Mary nodded. "Yes. And thank you."
"He was a good man. He trusted the right people. While I…," she sighed. "I trusted the wrong ones. And…well…"she gestured to her face.
She paused, waiting for Mary to respond, but Mary didn't have anything to respond with. She knew which question was coming next.
The SRP picked up her phone. "Did you see him much? Did he ever talk about his FBI days?"
Mary pretended like she was contemplating an answer, but she already had one: no, she didn't see him much, and he never really told her anything. She had half-formed memories of him from when she was a child. Little snippets of him picking her up and putting her on his shoulders. The only nice, fully-formed memory she had of him she liked to keep a secret. She wasn't sure why. It just seemed like if she told anyone the memory would lose its significance.
Mary couldn't remember why or how she'd ended up alone that evening at her school. She was in the fifth grade, sitting outside, waiting on her father. He said he'd take her to the Father Daughter Dance. It was kind of a stupid thing to have really. Not all girls had fathers. Some girls had two fathers or two mothers. What were they supposed to do?
And Mary still believed him back then, because there were times when he kept his promises. She also still believed that when he couldn't keep them it was her step-mother's fault or the triplets. Mary told teachers that came out to check on her that her father had texted her and was on his way. She didn't feel bad about lying. What else was she going to do but sit out here and wait? Her mother had bought her a light blue dress that matched her eyes. She had sat very still while her mother braided flowers into her hair. She was here now and ready. What else was she going to do but sit out here and wait?
She heard someone walk up behind her. "May I have this dance?"
She turned to see her grandfather standing there. She hadn't seen him in a long time, but she remembered what he looked like. She stood up, looking up at him wide-eyed. He was all dressed up in a suit. She'd never seen him like that, except for pictures of him when he was a FBI agent.
He knelt down in front of her so he was eye-level with her. "You're dad wanted to come. But he just couldn't."
Mary stared at him in disbelief, hundreds of questions swarming and clogging her brain. What? How? Who?
"So," he said. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to put up with me." He stood up, holding out his arm. "Shall we?"
Mary hesitantly put her arm through his and accompanied him inside. She looked up at him amazed, still speechless from shock.
"Now listen," he said as they walked towards the gym, looking around with exaggeration, and then leaning down towards her. "I can't dance. Like not at all."
Mary smiled up at him.
"So you're going to have to take the lead in there. It's going to be up to you to make us look good out there. Okay?"
"Okay," she replied.
He smiled down at her. "You're not going to make fun of me are you?"
Mary laughed. "No."
"Okay, because if you make fun of me then I get to make fun of you. That's the deal."
Mary laughed again. "Okay."
He was a hero to her in that moment. He'd taken down the villain and rescued the helpless maiden. He'd swooped in, saving her, and changing the entire course of that evening. He twirled her around and around. He pretended to trip over his feet to make her laugh. At one point, Mary saw him outside on his phone. She heard him yelling, and she didn't need to guess who he was yelling at.
Before he left, he picked her up in a giant bear-hug, kissing her cheek.
"Take care of yourself, Mary." He'd said to her, brushing his hand across her cheek.
"I will," she replied.
Then he left. Gone as fast as he'd shown up.
Mary didn't tell anyone he'd been there. She assumed everyone knew. But her mother seemed oblivious and Mary didn't really want to say that her father hadn't shown. It was a mystery to her to this day as to how he knew to be there and why he decided to. She thought she'd hear from him again. He'd want to see her more and talk to her, but she didn't see him again after that.
"I didn't really know him," Mary said to the SRP. "I only saw him a few times when I was little."
The SRP nodded, looking down at her phone. "How old are you?"
Mary opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn't remember. It was one of those things one always knows until they are asked. Especially by someone important.
"Twenty-two, ma'am," Mary replied finally.
"You don't have your father listed here," she said, looking down at her phone.
"I don't know who he is."
It wasn't a total lie. She didn't really know who he was at all. He always put her half-siblings before her. They were legitimate. They were not like her.
The SRP set her phone down, and scooted closer to her. This was weird.
"I think there's something else we have in common."
Okay? Sure?
"You can do things," the SRP pointed to her head. "Can't you?"
Mary looked around, though she knew they were alone in here. She tried to think if she'd done anything recently that someone may have seen and reported back to her. But she was always very careful.
"But you were born like this," the SRP said, tilting her head, studying her. "You've always had this in you."
Mary said nothing, but that was just as damning as saying yes.
"Do you ever look in the mirror," the SRP was staring right in her eyes. "And see it move over your eyes? Like a black oil?"
Mary couldn't reply. Even if she said no, her hesitation had already spoken for her.
"I do, too." The SRP reached for her phone again. Then picked up an envelope. "But I wasn't born with it. They made me this way, and they thought it would kill me."
She tapped on her phone for a few seconds, then set it down, the envelope still in her hands."But we'll keep that just between us."
So, that was why she wanted privacy. Mary felt like she'd been duped into something.
"When was the last time you saw your grandmother?"
Mary shrugged. For a while, after her grandfather died, her grandmother wrote to her frequently. It was before they gave them access to electronic communications at the academy, but they could still get mail. Then it tapered off into nothing at all. Her grandmother had come to her graduation four years ago, but nothing more after that. Mary had learned not to get too attached to anything or anyone.
"It's been four years at least," Mary replied.
"Then it's time for a visit," the SRP said, smiling, and handing her the envelope. "It's nothing classified. You can read it if you want."
Mary took the envelope from her, not knowing what to say. She'd never said so little and still revealed so much in her life.
"You can go now," the SRP said, moving back to her phone.
Mary stood to walk out. This had been a very informal meeting. Should she salute? After a few seconds, she did so, awkwardly, but the SRP was absorbed in her phone. Mary walked towards the door, holding the envelope in her hands.
"Wait," the SRP said. She stood up, coming over to Mary. "I'm going to the West Region in a couple of days. Would you like to come?"
