—New Dynasty, Dupont Circle. Mr. Burns. Kung Pao chicken.
—What else did it say? Do you know who killed Kennedy?
—There was nothing under “K.”
—Too bad. You should look at the menu. Our waitress will be here soon.
—I assume I should have the Kung Pao chicken.
—It might not be ready. I’ve never been here this early. I’m surprised they’re even open, given all that’s going on.
—I’m sorry. I really needed to talk to you.
—Sure! Talk! What can I do for you, Rose Franklin?
—Am I? Rose Franklin?
—I certainly hope so! Otherwise I’m at the wrong table, and the lady over there looks mean. Look at her! She looks like she’s about to stab someone with her fork.
—She could be a really nice person. There are a lot of friendly-looking people who aren’t at all.
—You might be right. We do discriminate a lot based on first impressions. Except for that woman. I know she’s just mean. Look at those eyes! Ah! Finally!
[Are you ready to order?]
Yes! My friend here would like the Kung Pao chicken. I’ll have … Oh, what the hell, make that two. Two cooling teas.
[It’ll be right up!]
Thank you!
—You haven’t answered my question.
—Really? “Am I Rose Franklin?” You came all the way to Washington to ask me that?
—He said you would—
—I said I would talk to you and explain what happened as best I could. That was before people started dying by the million! But now? Boohoo! I’m not meeee! Seriously, who cares?
—I care.
—You know, our “friend” was a lot more fun! You had a car accident and you woke up a bit later than you thought you would. That’s what happened to you. Can we move on?
—He said I was a copy.
—Oh, crap. I thought you, at least, could understand. If it makes you feel any better, I used the same device that brought you back to transport myself a dozen times. You don’t hear me whining about it. I’m a copy of a copy!
—It’s important to me. I need to know.
—All right … You think you have a soul. You think you’re special. The idea that you could just be a big pile of matter makes you feel unimportant. Well, you’re not special, no more special than every other magnificent thing in the universe.
—That’s not—
—Don’t interrupt. Just give me a sec. I have something to show you … Here! Do you know what this is?
—That’s a picture of the Pillars of Creation. It’s a giant mass of gas and dust in the Eagle Nebula. That picture was taken by Hubble some years ago.
—So you know it!
—I love that picture. I was always fascinated by it.
—What do you love about it?
—It’s a stellar nursery. The gas clouds in that region collapse on themselves to form new stars.
—It’s big, isn’t it?
—Oh yes.
—How big?
—The nebula? I don’t know exactly. Probably trillions of miles.
—OK, so it’s a very big pile of dust. What do you find so fascinating about it?
—Well, that’s it! It’s a huge cloud, larger than anything we can imagine. Yet it’s just a tiny speck in the universe. And it spits out stars! Stars that will have planets.
—And some of these planets will have life! And some of that life will be sentient.
—Yes! It’s awe-inspiring. It’s—
—God?
—Maybe.
—It’s also gone, you know. The Pillars of Creation. They were probably long gone by the time the light from it made it all the way here for that picture.
—Probably.
—Well, you, Rose Franklin, are made of the exact same stuff as the Pillars of Creation. No more. No less. That’s how special and insignificant you are.
— …
—That’s all I’m gonna say about it. I hope that’s enough for you to learn to live with your soulless self. I, and some associates of mine, took a high-resolution scan of you when you got into that car crash— —You were there?
—I held your head, so you wouldn’t bang it on the door. After you died, we used that scan to reconstruct you. Whether or not you existed before makes absolutely no difference. I swear to you, you are as much who you are as you ever were.
—I—
—Yes?
—Do you always carry a picture of the Eagle Nebula in your wallet?
—I do!
—Why?
—I like the colors. Can we talk about something fun, now? I really miss the other guy, you know.
—Why save me? Why bring me back?
—Hmm, let me think. So that you’d be less dead. I think that was the idea.
—But why me?
—I’m beginning to wonder myself. Because you’re important.
—He told me the same thing before he died. I’m not! I’m not a messiah. You just told me I’m not special at all. Insignificant, you said.
—I didn’t say you were the second coming. Maybe important wasn’t the right word. Useful? How’s that? Are you OK with being useful?
—Useful how? I know this has something to do with the aliens coming, but … I’m not … I’m not smart enough to do this on my own.
—Well, you’re not that smart, but you are smart enough. Just enough. This isn’t an intelligence contest, you know. If we wanted a genius, we would have picked your colleague, Alyssa what’s her name?