Living
Over the next several months, Kim continued working, and took her night classes. It was odd in a way—having to be home for her curfew when other students (mostly younger, in her first classes), were out to go partying. Not all, since more than a few professionals were taking classes.
Kim hadn't studied political science in prison—such topical books were harder to get and she hadn't considered that she would be changing much when and if she got out. On the other hand, the long years of studying literature and science (mathematics mostly) had prepared her well for the discipline it took to progress in her studies. Kim started out something of a curiosity, but soon found herself being called on by the professors, especially when they wanted a point cleared up for the rest of the class. Kim also found herself asked to teach two night classes of undergrads in math—her main focus of study in prison.
"You'll have to take some other classes, to get your official Master's." one professor told her when offering her the deal, "But that article in the Journal of Applied Mathematics was well written… especially since you did it without any computer assistance." He smiled, "In fact, if you want to take a few more classes and beat that article into a thesis, we may be able to work on a doctorate."
Kim shrugged. "Well I had the time." She said smiling. Actually about six months to do it. Then there had been the question of getting permission to publish it, and Kim had agreed to forgo payment for it. It was odd—she didn't really like mathematics, but she'd picked it to keep herself sane, and she was now very good at it.
Good at a lot of things she'd never considered. Certainly no children (or undergrads) were crying when they saw her coming. Prison had taught her the virtues of patience, if nothing else.
"I understand." The Chair of the math department said, "Ah, Ms. Possible, there is one thing you should consider."
"Yes?"
"This school would hire you based on your professional qualifications—we wouldn't consider your ah, legal difficulties."
"Oh."You mean my felony conviction.
"I'll work these classes." Kim said, and paused, "But, well for now at least, I like working with the children at the pre-K…"
"I understand, and in any case right now since you're helping with the night classes, there's no need to make a final choice." He said. "Good night, Ms. Possible."
The classes themselves were odd. After she made it plain that the class was about math and not her former world saving exploits, prison tales or anything else, she found herself enjoying them. The ki-students, she thought, were bright as the college was competitive and quickly adapted to her. If they seemed young to her, well most of them were 18 or 19…and there was also the fact that none of them had ever spent ten years effectively alone.
Mornings Kim jogged and worked out in the Dojo, then the pre-k, then afternoons grading and studying for her own classes, then the classes themselves and finally a late night snuggle (quite often more) with Ron either at his home or her apartment. The weekends she and Ron tried to save for themselves, with a movie or other outside activity. Granted Ron had a theater sized TV…but Kim had gotten over her worries about large crowds, and now she wanted to be among them, to be with people. She'd had enough aloneness, no matter how luxurious the surroundings.
At one meeting with Rabbi Katz, that came up.
"So Kimberly, I hear you've been teaching, jogging, working out in the Dojo, and were even asked to teach a self defense course."
"I declined." Kim said, her hands in her lap. She hadn't been able to shake a few behaviors, and right now, Rabbi Katz was wearing his official hat. "I didn't think it would be well…smart."
"Well it's not on any outright forbidden list, but you might be right." Katz said, "some might argue you were looking for trouble."
"I don't want that." Kim said.
"No, I know you don't…. Kimberly, a few months ago, when you were being vetted for the training, a Colonel Verne spoke to me." Katz leaned back, "This isn't official and you don't have to tell me, but what happened. You've radically changed your behavior since then, and honestly not in the way I feared."
"Feared?"
"Yes, I was afraid I was going to be notified that you were now with the SOG and my services were no longer needed."
"Um… that didn't happen."
"I know. Why, if you don't mind."
Kim paused, and then told Katz. Katz leaned back and listened to her story, about how the drill had gone so disastrously wrong.
Verne you are…. Very sneaky. Kimberly had always been very empathic towards others and the one thing that would do more to convince her to move into other paths then anything else was something ugly—like being presented the choice between wrecking a mission and killing someone who was helpless. Katz was certain that there were other ways to neutralize the prisoner, but Verne hadn't provided them for a reason—because the lesson was that at times you had to kill. At times you had to kill innocent (or at least as innocent as you were yourself) blood.
Of course, Katz thought, there was no guarantee that Verne didn't want Kim for some other purpose. He had spent some time learning as much as he could about Verne, and his conclusion was that "Colonel" Samuel Verne was very, very, important in the more shadowy side of the United States government. Quite likely, as important as more than a few cabinet level officers. A man like that, no matter how much he might like Ron, probably had better things to do then babysit someone he thought was just going to spend the rest of her life helping preschoolers.
He filed that for future reference. He hadn't been kidding to the good Colonel, that he was Kimberly's advocate as much as her watcher.
"What do you think?"
"I think it's a symptom." Kim said quietly, forgetting about her hands which started to move more animatedly. "Mom always talked about the people who got bruises covered them up…and then found out they had cancer."
"People have tried to kill us."
"People, some of them, will always try to kill us." Kim said. "You know that, Rabbi." She paused, "But too many people I've talked to think everyone is out to kill us, that you have the US, Europe, Japan, and a few other nations—and beyond them are tides of people who dream of nothing but killing Americans."
"And?"
"And they're wrong—Ron doesn't worry about it when he's out there, and you couldn't find a central casting actor who was more "rich American" then he is." Kim paused, "When people are poor, or they can't eat, it's easy to get them on board. 'Do this, and you'll be fed,' or 'do this and you'll be respected'. There was one man in Supermax with me… he's dead now, he was executed…" Kim paused, "The seventh year I was in."
"Unjustly?" Kim stopped at the question then shook her head.
"No. He was in a gang, and they decided he should show another gang what happened when they were disrespected. He killed a 22 year old woman, and her kid." Kim sighed, "If you believe in the death penalty at all, he deserved it."
"But?"
"But what did he have? His father had abused him, his mother was gone... the only source of respect was that gang. It was father mother and nation to him. I know, people get out of similar situations without becoming criminals, but that's not the way it should be, stacking the deck against people before they even get out of the gate." Kim frowned, "Hate comes easy if you're poor, and don't have any hope."
"Or if you're frightened."
"Or if you're frightened." Kim agreed. "But if they were utterly, dead set against us…" She paused, "Then nothing Ron could do would help—but it does, even when he gets sabotaged by the US or other forces."
"Sabotaged?"
"Not deliberately…" Kim said, "But with so many aid programs pulled, so much of an emphasis on counter terrorism… a lot of places don'tsee the US like they used to. Now, they don't have any contact with us at all until a regiment of marines or an airstrike takes out some terrorist base…which is usually in the middle of a village where a lot of non-terrorists live. Used to, there was always the fact that whatever they thought about the American government they liked most Americans…but now Americans don't tend to go there anymore."
"But those measures keep us from being attacked."
"In the short term." Kim said, "What about the long term? Remember the Diablo's? Fine, it didn't take long to discover that they didn't work without the signal and it was easy to jam the signal… but what about if someone designs a system that doesn't require it? What about when we get attacked again." Kim paused, realized she was beginning to gesture and then put her hands down in her lap again.
When she spoke, it was quiet. "You're Jewish, Rabbi Katz, tell me truly that you don't think this might not end one day with a US president saying that 'nits make lice', and that the best way to solve the problem is to make all those people who obviously hate us just…not be." Kim blinked then and spoke again quickly, "I'm sorry, Rabbi, that was uncalled for- I."
"Uncalled for? Jews aren't the only ones who have suffered genocide." Katz said, "And I think you may have a point—part of humanity is acknowledging the common ties that bind us—and yet with fewer and fewer people traveling abroad, those ties between us and our fellows are fraying… yet on the other hand, some would say the alternative is worse—isolation is better than death."
Kim got up rapidly and walked to the door, and opened it slightly, the streetlights shining outside. A car went by, and Kim waited a moment before turning and looking at Rabbi Katz.
"They're wrong. Everyone dies, but not everyone needs to lose their soul and that's what being isolated is. Your soul, your ability to do anything more than exist drains out, hour by hour, and day by day."
"You've done well."
"I'm A Possible, and anything's possibl-" Kim didn't finish the sentence. "Have I? I can't sleep unless a window is open, preferably a door. If a security guard yells at me…" She paused, and put her hands down in front of her, together, and her feet came to a different pose. "Hands down, ready for shackling, feet apart, ready to comply with the orders given." She sighed, "Not to mention I go bone white and want to puke I'm so scared…yesterday at lunch..."
"Ah, yes, Ron spoke to me about that."
Kim reddened. They had been eating when some fellow had come up to her and started asking her how it felt to be treated special. She'd found out later that he'd been someone who had lost a large chunk of his family in the 2010 attacks. Kim hadn't been able to say anything back to him as his rant degenerated into screaming that had everyone looking at them. For a moment, she'd been afraid that Ron was going to do something—he looked briefly murderous, but he'd smoothly dealt with the man until the police had arrived to remove him. Not only hadn't Kim finished her lunch, what part she had eaten had come right back up in the ladies room.
She sighed. "I have nightmares Rabbi."
"Oh?"
"I'll be sleeping with Ron…and then I wake up and I'm back in Supermax, with Marla getting ready to take me out to exercise. I ask where am I and she tells me "supermax" and reminds me I have ten years to go yet, that I never got parole." She bit her lip and didn't tell Katz how that would bring her up out of a sleep into a sweat soaked panic, hitting the lights so she could look around, grabbing Ron if he was with her, or calling him frantically if he wasn't, no matter the time of night. She remembered when she'd been irritated at Ron for calling her at all hours…
"It's never going to end, is it?" Kim finally said.
"No." Katz said, "Like a death in the family or a terrible accident, it may fade, you may gradually stop having nightmares, or deal with them, but what happened to you, whether you think it was worth it-"
"It was."
"-or not, will never simply 'go away'. It's a part of you now."
"Yeah…and I don't understand how people don't realize it—if this nation closes itself off—that's just a bigger version of solitary. "
"What would you do?" Katz asked.
"I don't know." Kim said and then amended, "Not yet. It's a big problem, because all sorts of people know about it, but if you ask ten different professors how to fix it, you'll get…"
"Ten different answers?"
"Try twenty. These are college professors after all." The two laughed. Kim looked at her watch. "Oh hey, Mom wants me back for dinner… I didn't think we'd stay talking this long…"
"By all means, Ms. Possible, I have dined at your parent's home once or twice and your mothers' skills aren't to be missed." Katz said with a smile.
Kim headed back home, taking a taxi. She didn't really need to drive. The days of needing to go far away on short notice were over, after all.
When she opened the door to her parents home, her mother smiled at her.
"Kimmie, there's someone you should see in the living room…"
"Actually two someone's." James said. Kim blinked, and looked into the room. There was a dark haired woman and a red head and they wee-
"OH MY GOD! MONIQUE!" Kim squealed, rushing forward to hug her friend. Then she looked over, "JOSS!" She said in the same delighted tone, then stopped.
"Kim?"
"Iseveryone in the family taller then me now?" Kim said in an aggrieved tone as she realized that Joss might be about an inch taller than her.
"It's the NY food." Monique said and Kim looked over at Joss and noted her jacked had the New York Fire Department insignia on it.
She blinked. "Daddy told me that you had moved out east, but not what you were doing."
"Oh, I've been with the fire department for two years now." Joss said, grinning.
Kim's math skills came to the fore, "But that means you joined when you were…"
"20—I finished college already, 'an I had some ideas to help and they hired me."
"Oh you did?"
"Sure did." Monique said, "You're looking at the NYFD's best robo-wrangler."
Joss reddened, "Well, some-"
"The best, girl." Monique said, "Stands to reason since you help put it together." She grinned, "While I'm stuck in the ER."
"Your letter said you were finishing med school."
"Oh, I've done that a while back." Monique said, "I've been trapped in the ER, and the labs since then, and then more school—that's why I'm here now."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, NYU came up with some new systems and since I trained on them-"
"She's going to be showing us how to get the best performance out of them." Kim's mother said coming into the room. "She comes very highly recommended, from some doctors who have very high standards."
"Not that high—at least not in their fashion sense." Monique said, and everyone laughed.
"So when is Ron showing up?" Kim asked.
"Oh, he'll be here in a bit." Her mother said.
"Ron?" Joss said, and Kim turned back to her, surprised. Joss's voice had cooled, and when Kim saw her face she realized that Joss' eyes were narrowed with displeasure. She looked over to Monique and her friend gave a tiny gesture she remembered from high school.
We'll Talk about it later…
TBC.