There’s got to be a way to escape. There are cameras everywhere, but there aren’t that many guards. There is no reason for them. These people aren’t criminals, they haven’t done anything. There are kids everywhere. Pretty much all the Muslims were sent in with their families. Some people even volunteered to come here. Their husbands and wives had a bit too much alien DNA, and they refused to let them go, so they came. This place is no prison. It feels more like a small village than anything else. It’s ironic, in a really sad way. There’s more closeness here, more love and acceptance, than anywhere else. White, black, brown, Christian, Muslim, all brought together by the greatest injustice of all. But they are together. If you’re in here, you’re welcome. I must be going out of my mind, but if I had to live anywhere, this is the first place I’ve seen since we came back where I feel I could have a life. That is until they start slaughtering those people.
They have me in a bunk next to this guy, Bilal. He’s just a year older than me. He—this is nuts—he studied plant biology in Helsinki. He worked in a bar to pay for school. There’s nothing special about him. Not his DNA. He’s not even Muslim. He’s a Hindu, but he was born in Pakistan, so … It’s pathetic. These people can’t even do racist right.
I hate this world. People are small. They’re ignorant, and they’re happy to stay that way. They make an effort to. They’ll spend time and energy finding ways not to learn things just to feel comfortable with their beliefs. The cops that turned us in, they weren’t scared of the Russians. They genuinely thought they were helping by turning us in. They were served this story that’s SO. OBVIOUSLY. BULLSHIT. But they swallowed it. They ate it all, and they asked for seconds. They’re happy to buy into this nonsense because they’re on the right side of things, and they have someone to blame for everything that’s wrong with the world. How cozy that must be, never having to question anything? I thought it would be different. I thought the world would have come together like never before after they were attacked. They’d been hurt. Everyone had. More than anything, they’d been hurt equally, randomly. None of the people who died did anything to deserve it. They were from all walks of life, rich and poor, from every religion. For the first time in history, there was a “them” everyone could point the finger at. That should have come with an even bigger “us.” If two kids get beat up by the same school bully, they have a reason to be friends. If I see millions of Chinese people go through the same horror I went through, I should feel some yokits sympathy for the Chinese, or I’m a whole new breed of asshole. It happened here. This insanity, it brought everyone here together. There’s a “them”: the numbnuts that dragged us here. And there’s an “us”: camp people. That’s how it’s supposed to work. That’s how it should be.
Esat Ekt wasn’t much better in some ways. But, I don’t know, somehow their brand of racism didn’t hurt as much. For one thing, it was actually based on race. And they didn’t think there was anything intrinsically wrong with the people they oppressed. As much as I hate those Ekt principles, they weren’t built on lies. People here are just too stupid to realize they hate people who are exactly like them. Maybe that’s what bugs me. Stupidity. I hate it more than I hate evil.
I better learn to live with it, I guess, because I don’t think they’ll kill me. I wish they would. I don’t know what they’ll do to me, but it won’t be that. It’ll be something else. Something without an end. Purgatory. The strangest thing is that this is all just dawning on me. I had hoped … somehow I deluded myself into thinking this could all be fixed, that I could go back. I wanted to see the market, Esok, my friends. I wanted to see Ekim, but I won’t. I won’t see any of it, any of them ever again. It’s … linear. It moves in one direction, and all of this is behind. What’s ahead … I don’t know what’s ahead, but it’s never gonna be like before.
I don’t know what to do. I could try to recruit people, try to take over this place. If we all went for it, we could easily overwhelm the guards. But these are families. There are kids here, newborns. I can’t ask someone with a baby to risk everything for me. I probably can’t ask their friends either. They’ll denounce me to protect the ones they love. I wouldn’t follow me if I were in their shoes. They don’t have much of a life in here, but they are alive. I don’t think they will be for long, but I’m not sure I can convince them of that, not if they don’t want to hear it. This isn’t … sustainable. There are too many of them, and they keep bringing new people in. They won’t turn half the world into a refugee camp. At some point, they’ll want to make room. At some point, people will have gotten used to these camps. They’ll grow tired of all the bad news coming out of them. “We spend a fortune helping these people, and this is how they repay us?” “Why should we waste all these resources on the people who tried to kill us when we barely have enough for ourselves?” They’ll start with men, the ones with the most alien DNA, then they’ll work their way down. When the people in these camps have been dehumanized enough, everyone will be fair game. Women, children. It won’t matter. My problem is no one wants to hear that, especially not the mother of a three-year-old playing hide-and-seek behind the barracks. It makes sense. That’s why these things work, I guess. I wouldn’t risk my child’s life unless I was absolutely sure, and it would already be too late if I were. It’s the will to live that will kill these people.
Maybe I don’t need to find a way out. Maybe there is one already. Wishful thinking, I know, but there must be some sort of black market running in here. If there’s one thing you can count on when things go bad, it’s free enterprise. Folks in here had money. I’m sure someone found a way to take it from them. I just hope it’s not the guards. If contraband is coming in, maybe I can go out the same way. Probably not. It doesn’t matter. I can’t just sit here waiting for the Russian Army to show up.
FILE NO. 2134
INTERVIEW BETWEEN DR. HELEN MAHER, DIRECTOR, US ALIEN RESEARCH CENTER, AND DR. ROSE FRANKLIN
Location: Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Maryland
—Good morning, Dr. Franklin. Very pleased to meet you. Welcome back to the United States.
—Thank you. Glad to be back.
—They tell me you’ve been debriefed.
—For about eight hours, yes. I have to go back tomorrow.
—Nine years is a long time. There’s a lot to tell, I’m sure. People wanna know.
—We haven’t talked much about our time there. We mostly talked about Vincent.
—The traitor?
—I … That’s one way to put it.
—What other way is there?
—Well … maybe. Like I told them, we weren’t close.
—I was under the impression that you were friends.
—We were when we left. We … We saw things … very differently over there.
—On—what’s it called again? Esat Ekt?
—There. In Russia. We were on opposite sides of everything. I wanted to stay on Esat Ekt, study those people. I thought I should learn about them, get them to know us, so we could find peace. He saw them as the enemy from the start. I would still be there if it weren’t for him.
—As a scientist, I envy you.
—Thank you. That makes me wish you had been there instead of him. We didn’t talk to each other anymore, until he convinced them it was best to send us back. I couldn’t stay anymore because of him. Then we land in Russia and … we’re prisoners. I thought that, no matter how much we fought in the past, we could at least agree on that, find a way to escape. He didn’t see it that way. He betrayed me. His daughter too. I think he blames our country for what happened.
—Sadly, he’s not the only one. Most of the world does.
—I was told Alyssa Papantoniou works for the US now. Is she here?
—No. We only do basic research here. She works directly for the military.
—OK …
—Dr. Franklin?
—Yes.
—Is there something specific I can do for you today?
—I … I was told to meet you here. They drove me. I assumed you’re the one who wanted to see me.
—I never asked them to … It doesn’t matter … SO. What would you like to see?
—Have I done something wrong?
—Why do you ask?
—You seemed … hostile, just now. Is it something I did in the past? I’m sorry if—
—No, we’ve never met. Would you like a tour?
—I … Yes. I would like a tour if it’s not too much trouble. I don’t want to take a lot of your time, you must be busy.
—I am.
—Is there anything I can do to help? Now that I’m here. They said they would pick me up at four. That’s … six hours from now. I can walk around the city, but if I can be of use—
—Ha!
—Have I said something funny?
—Yes, you did. I should be the one asking you.