Yes, that was me and, barring my being really lucky, I wasn’t asleep and this wasn’t a nightmare, at least, not a sleeping one. There were a lot of hells that politics had put me into, but none worse than this—being a guest on a morning talk show.
As the audience clapped themselves into a frenzy and I was gently shoved forward toward the stage by my so-called friends, I once again asked myself and the greater cosmos why anyone had thought this was a good idea. And also who hadn’t shared with Kristie and Adam that I never wanted anyone to refer to me as Code Name: First Lady. Whoever it was would be receiving a very nasty talking-to whenever I got out of here.
Wasn’t walking forward with the right amount of enthusiasm, and I knew it, since the stage manager hissed, “Move it!” to me. So much for the idea that being the FLOTUS got you any respect backstage.
Either he’d heard the stage manager or he was used to some guests not being thrilled to be on the show, because Adam jumped up out of his seat, trotted over to me, and escorted me to mine, potentially earning my lifelong love and adoration. He settled me into my so-called chair that was a lot more like a barstool with a back. I wasn’t tall, so it was a little awkward. Of course, Kristie wasn’t that tall, either, and she was making it work.
“Missus Martini,” she said, beaming and perky beyond belief, “thank you for joining us on Good Day USA!”
“Happy to be here,” I totally lied. “And please, call me Kitty.”
She and Adam exchanged thrilled glances. I sincerely doubted they were as excited as they looked. They were the top morning show in the country and they hadn’t gotten there by being dull to watch. And on the morning shows, reactions were Broadcast with a Capital B.
“Thank you . . . Kitty,” Kristie said, sounding as thrilled and perky as she looked. “Gosh, we have so many questions for you, don’t we, Adam?”
“We do!” Perk, perk, perk. These two were the King and Queen of Perkiness. “Kitty . . . gosh, I can’t believe I get to speak to you so informally, Kristie and I have been prepping questions nonstop since you agreed to come onto Good Day USA, and now that you’re here, I’m so excited that I just can’t remember half of them!”
Prayed that these two weren’t going to expect me to provide both questions and answers, because, if so, this program was about to go way down in the ratings. But a response seemed expected. “Um, that’s really sweet of you to say.”
“Isn’t she great, folks?” Kristie perked at the audience, as if I’d done an Oprah and just given everyone a car.
The audience applauded hysterically. There had to be a sign somewhere telling them to do so, but I couldn’t spot it from my vantage point of trying not to look at anyone or anything while still appearing poised and confident. Was pretty sure I was failing at all of it.
“Kitty, what’s it like to be a human and yet part of the American Centaurion population on Earth?” Adam asked, apparently having managed to remember at least one of his prepared questions. He’d traded perky for inquisitive. So at least there was that.
“It’s great. The A-Cs are wonderful people.”
“They’re stronger and faster than us, aren’t they?” Adam asked. “And better looking, too.”
“Well, yes.” The A-Cs had two hearts which meant they could move so fast a human couldn’t see them, and they were also super strong. I felt that hyperspeed was the better of the two, but I wasn’t going to complain about the extra strength, either. They also had extremely fast healing and regeneration, which was a huge bonus for those in active and dangerous roles. And, as Adam had said, they were, to a person, all gorgeous, representing every skin tone on Earth, and every body type, too, as long as the term “hardbody” was applied as well. “But I don’t think you have anything to feel inadequate about, Adam.”
This earned me wild applause from the audience and some women whooped their approval. Adam looked flattered and a little embarrassed. So, presumably I was doing okay. As long as they didn’t ask if I had any A-C bells and whistles, we were good. Because I did and no one wanted me talking about it.
Due to the mother-and-child feedback that had happened when I’d been pregnant with and given birth to our daughter, Jamie, I’d reverse inherited the A-C superstrength and hyperspeed. I’d also gotten a talent, and one that wasn’t normal for A-Cs.
Talents didn’t go to every A-C, but they got talents far more frequently than would seem statistically normal. Jeff was an empath—in fact, due to being given Surcenthumain, aka the Superpowers Drug, by some of our enemies, he was likely the strongest empath in the galaxy. Empaths felt emotions, everyone’s emotions, all the time. They had ways to block the emotions, but still, they were walking lie-detectors among other things.
Imageers had been more powerful before our enemies had introduced a virus that successfully muted their powers. Done, most likely, to prevent Jeff’s cousin, Christopher White, from discovering who our late, great enemy, the Mastermind, had really been. Before that, though, imageers could not only manipulate any image but they could read them, too, the pictures making a copy of mind and soul, at least as Christopher had explained it.
There were also dream and memory readers, but that talent was extremely rare. The third most common power, however, was also the one that got the least amount of respect—troubadours. This power was all in the voice, expressions, and body language. In other words, perfect for actors and politicians, which was why it was looked down upon by most of the A-C population. Of course, what most of that population hadn’t realized was that it made troubadours incredibly powerful and totally stealth.
However, my talent was none of these. My talent was being Dr. Doolittle. Thankfully there wasn’t supposed to be an animal segment on today’s show, because the chances of me having a chat with said animal would be high. I couldn’t help it—animals liked to talk to me.
“What’s it like to be married to an A-C?” Kristie asked, bringing perky back.
Well, at least these were softball questions, so I had that going for me, though I’d have rather been listening to Justin Timberlake bringing “SexyBack”. But what I wanted and what I got were not always one and the same.
Of course, had to make sure I censored my reply, because, as far as I was concerned, the number one best part of being married to my husband was Jeff’s bedroom prowess and regenerative abilities, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one wanted me sharing that with anyone, let alone the largest morning show viewership in the world.