watching me struggle from a distance is hard to accept. It would make them monsters, and me the daughter of monsters.
But it can’t be a coincidence that I’m here now, after just three weeks of testing, listening to a message from my mother. Or could it? Maybe this message has been played for hundreds of Unity crews? She could be an actress, the whole thing staged, and she’s really down and out, taking on talking-head jobs for a living, giving the weather on some local channel. That would be better than this being real.
“Go ahead,” I say, and the video resumes.
“The experience forged bonds that remain unbroken to this day. Life and death are the glue that bind Base, Support and Point. Together we’re strong.”
“Divided we fall,” Gwen says at the same time as my mother. It must be an unofficial Unity motto I haven’t heard yet.
“Since you’re watching this message,” my mother continues, “you already know the island has sources of food and water. How and if you retrieve them is up to you, but all the resources you need are standing around you in the bodies and minds of your confederates. Work together. Survive. We will return for you—for all of you—in one month.”
Daniel pauses the video again. “A month. We’re going to be here for a month .”
“At least,” Gwen says.
Daniel’s frown deepens. “Right. The wave.”
“She’s your mother?” Mandi asks. She’s standing behind us, arms crossed, but she’s as interested in the video as the rest of us.
“Do you know her?” I ask, sounding something close to pitiful. I shouldn’t want to know this woman who gave me up. Who didn’t care enough to keep me. Who named me and let me go like some wild animal born in captivity, sent out into the jungle—in this case, literally. I shouldn’t care about her. But I do.
“I’ve seen her,” Mandi says. “On the carrier.”
“When?” I ask.
“With the Admiral.”
“The who?” I’ve never heard of this person, but the way she says ‘The Admiral’ indicates a capital T and capital A, like the man doesn’t need a first name.
“No kidding?” Gizmo says.
Judging by the looks of surprise on everyone’s faces but mine, I’m once again out of the loop.
“He founded Unity,” Daniel explains. “He was bonkers rich. Put his whole fortune into creating the Unity program, which is worldwide and not dependent on any government. Judging by the age of your mother, she must have gotten in on the ground floor.”
“What does the Admiral look like?” I ask.
Daniel understands the real question. “It’s not him.” Him being my father. “The Admiral must be seventy by now.”
“And the name?” I ask.
“He was an actual admiral once,” Gwen says. “That’s what they say. His real name is a secret. Pretty much everything we know about him is rumor, including his wealth.”
“Only someone with endless funding could create something like Unity,” Daniel says.
“Let’s just finish the video,” Mandi says, and for once, we’re on the same page. Compared to my mother and our current situation, The Admiral is about as interesting as a crack in the ceiling.
“Do it,” I say, and Daniel once again complies.
My mother leans forward, shifting her hands. Her finger taps the desktop. She’s either nervous or impatient. Either way, her comfortable visage is fading a little. “Some of you have been with the program for a while. Some of you just a short time.”
I hold my breath.
Is she speaking about me?
To me?
“Some of you have been partially integrated into the Unity program, understanding our organization and methodology, while others are still just getting their feet wet. I assure you, this was not a mistake. You are here for a reason. You’re here because we believe you are ready. Even if you do not.”
Pause.
Daniel taps the screen. “Look!”
We all lean forward, looking at my mother’s hand. She’s had her left hand covering her right the whole time,
But it can’t be a coincidence that I’m here now, after just three weeks of testing, listening to a message from my mother. Or could it? Maybe this message has been played for hundreds of Unity crews? She could be an actress, the whole thing staged, and she’s really down and out, taking on talking-head jobs for a living, giving the weather on some local channel. That would be better than this being real.
“Go ahead,” I say, and the video resumes.
“The experience forged bonds that remain unbroken to this day. Life and death are the glue that bind Base, Support and Point. Together we’re strong.”
“Divided we fall,” Gwen says at the same time as my mother. It must be an unofficial Unity motto I haven’t heard yet.
“Since you’re watching this message,” my mother continues, “you already know the island has sources of food and water. How and if you retrieve them is up to you, but all the resources you need are standing around you in the bodies and minds of your confederates. Work together. Survive. We will return for you—for all of you—in one month.”
Daniel pauses the video again. “A month. We’re going to be here for a month .”
“At least,” Gwen says.
Daniel’s frown deepens. “Right. The wave.”
“She’s your mother?” Mandi asks. She’s standing behind us, arms crossed, but she’s as interested in the video as the rest of us.
“Do you know her?” I ask, sounding something close to pitiful. I shouldn’t want to know this woman who gave me up. Who didn’t care enough to keep me. Who named me and let me go like some wild animal born in captivity, sent out into the jungle—in this case, literally. I shouldn’t care about her. But I do.
“I’ve seen her,” Mandi says. “On the carrier.”
“When?” I ask.
“With the Admiral.”
“The who?” I’ve never heard of this person, but the way she says ‘The Admiral’ indicates a capital T and capital A, like the man doesn’t need a first name.
“No kidding?” Gizmo says.
Judging by the looks of surprise on everyone’s faces but mine, I’m once again out of the loop.
“He founded Unity,” Daniel explains. “He was bonkers rich. Put his whole fortune into creating the Unity program, which is worldwide and not dependent on any government. Judging by the age of your mother, she must have gotten in on the ground floor.”
“What does the Admiral look like?” I ask.
Daniel understands the real question. “It’s not him.” Him being my father. “The Admiral must be seventy by now.”
“And the name?” I ask.
“He was an actual admiral once,” Gwen says. “That’s what they say. His real name is a secret. Pretty much everything we know about him is rumor, including his wealth.”
“Only someone with endless funding could create something like Unity,” Daniel says.
“Let’s just finish the video,” Mandi says, and for once, we’re on the same page. Compared to my mother and our current situation, The Admiral is about as interesting as a crack in the ceiling.
“Do it,” I say, and Daniel once again complies.
My mother leans forward, shifting her hands. Her finger taps the desktop. She’s either nervous or impatient. Either way, her comfortable visage is fading a little. “Some of you have been with the program for a while. Some of you just a short time.”
I hold my breath.
Is she speaking about me?
To me?
“Some of you have been partially integrated into the Unity program, understanding our organization and methodology, while others are still just getting their feet wet. I assure you, this was not a mistake. You are here for a reason. You’re here because we believe you are ready. Even if you do not.”
Pause.
Daniel taps the screen. “Look!”
We all lean forward, looking at my mother’s hand. She’s had her left hand covering her right the whole time,
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