Zoe Rosenthal Is Not Lawful Good

by Nancy Werlin

  “I’ll play. What’s my justice warrior name?”

  “Your first name and your last name,” I said. “So, Liv?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you managed to trick me into talking.”

  “No tricks,” said Liv soberly. “I’m just saying what I think. You’re not the only one trying to figure life out, and how to be.” A pause. “Even if you always phrase it as Simon thinks and Simon says.”

  I blinked. It was startling to learn how I appeared to others.

  “Liv?” Do you think I made a mistake bringing Josie?

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Mistake or not, I had done it. Josie was here. Simon wouldn’t approve, but that didn’t mean I should substitute Liv’s opinions for his. I needed my own.

  Oh, for crying out loud. I already had my own opinion! Josie was a few yards away, her face alight, looking around, in awe. Why shouldn’t she be a Bloodygit, too? She belonged in this community. Anybody belonged who wanted to be here. That was the very point. I hadn’t brought her only because I’d been blackmailed. I’d also brought her because I thought she belonged here, too.

  I needed to own that.

  I went right over to Josie and whispered, “I’m glad you came.”

  Her transcendent expression was my reward.

  “But, Josie?” I added. “Never threaten me again, because the payback capacity of an organized woman is beyond your worst nightmare.”

  “Um,” she said. “You’d destroy me with a spreadsheet?”

  “You’re fairly clever, so I might need to deploy a Kanban board too.”

  She eyed me carefully.

  “Kidding not kidding,” I said with a touch of the manic smile that the actress who plays Monica uses in Season 2, when Monica goes deliberately off her meds. ( What Monica is up to, we don’t yet fully understand.)

  There, I thought smugly. That will keep Josie nicely under my thumb.

  Child-rearing would obviously be a snap for me one day.

  We stowed the luggage, got our badges, and made our way to where Todd and Meldel—Celie and Captain—were holding our place in line. We were planning to attend a panel session about women, race, and leadership roles in science fiction, with Zoe Saldana from Star Trek (who played Uhura in the movie reboots) and Gina Torres from Firefly (who played Zoë Washburne). Two Zoes! I couldn’t help feeling kinship.

  Regarding the panel, my Bloodygits had laid out the history via text, a few days ago—before the conversation devolved, that is.

  LIV: So back in the day of early science fiction shows on TV, women were rare and women in important positions on spaceships were even rarer, and as for women of color in important positions, Uhura was the only one, or at least the only one I know about. We eventually got Captain Janeway on Star Trek: Voyager, which was great, but of course she was white. Then women leaders on Battlestar Galactica—but again, white. Then Zoe Washburne on Firefly, but she’s second in command. Basically, it’s taken a long, long time to get to a role model like Captain Paloma on Bleeders.

  MELDEL: I don’t think there’s ever been a woman of color in command before, has there?

  SEBASTIAN: I’m not sure. I’ll do some research.

  CAM: Anyway, this means our people will be attending that session in droves, so it’ll be a really good place to hand out Bleeders flyers and make our case.

  TODD: But they won’t know that they’re our people.

  LIV: It’s their chance to learn. There’s a direct historical line from Star Trek to Bleeders. It goes through other shows like Battlestar Galactica and Firefly. I think Zoe Saldana and Gina Torres must know about Bleeders. Right? It’ll make me really nervous for Bleeders if they don’t!

  SEBASTIAN: I hope they do. Hey, should I add that to the flyer, about the direct historical line?

  MELDEL: Yes, great. Only make sure I copyedit.

  MELDEL: Also, think about this: The original Uhura, Nichelle Nichols, was forced to dress sexy and wear a miniskirt. In her job! I hope someone asks Zoe and Gina about costuming for women leaders and how it’s changed over time. Maybe I will. It pisses me off.

  TODD: Personally, I like wearing my Celie miniskirt.

  MELDEL: You wouldn’t like wearing it on the bridge of your spaceship when you’re handling critical communications with some new alien species who might blow you up but you’re forced to sit with your legs perfectly positioned when that should be the absolute last thing on your mind. That miniskirt was about pleasing the male gaze.

  LIV: Wait wait wait!

  MELDEL: Don’t you agree?

  LIV: Maybe not. I feel like you’re on the verge of shaming clothing that shows off the body. Move away from thinking about the viewer and think about the person wearing the clothing. It’s about what you want to wear and what makes you feel good, and what’s fun. Right? I mean, I love my scarves and I love the floaty femme ones that are totally impractical. I don’t care what anybody else thinks.

  MELDEL: But costuming is the choice of the designer, not the actor.

  LIV: I know what you mean, but at the same time, I feel like it’s a very dated discussion. Miniskirts. I mean, SIGH. People should wear whatever makes them feel good about their body and their presentation to the world. Sometimes that might be something that’s explicitly sexy. Even on a TV show. Women and men and nonbinary people—everyone.

  MELDEL: I get you, but I was talking about then, not now.

  LIV: But some people obviously did want to wear miniskirts then, too. Right? In the real world.

  TODD: Especially if you had great legs like Nichelle Nicols.

  LIV: Not a terrible point from Todd.

  TODD: I know right?!

  LIV: But I’m talking to Meldel, OK? Meanwhile, though, other people wanted to wear pants. Fashion is not only about looking good but also about what the wearer feels good in. Always! You have to hold both things in your mind as you look around at what other people choose to wear. I imagine costumers think about that a lot.

  LIV: Not to shame you, Meldel. Or anyone.

  MELDEL: It’s OK. I take your point.

  LIV: Thanks. Good.

  MELDEL: It’s true that I have been known to enjoy wearing a short skirt.

  TODD: That’s what I said!

  LIV: Yes, and fashion is an incredibly complicated subject! We can’t just say miniskirts bad, pants good. Even for a TV show set in the 60s.

  MELDEL: I’m seeing what you mean. Let’s talk in person about it.

  LIV: There’s a lot to unpack!

  SEBASTIAN: That’s a joke right?

  LIV: Yes. Do you like it?

  SEBASTIAN: I like it. But are we done talking about clothing?

  MELDEL: Yeah.

  LIV: Yes.

  SEBASTIAN: Good. Zoe, I’ll send you a list of stuff to watch so you’ll be ready for the panel. You need to catch up on your history.

  Sebastian sent me the list, which arrived in admirable historical order, and included annotated links to fan discussions that he thought were required reading and clips from several different SF shows. (I went down one rabbit hole about a character called Starbuck on Battlestar Galactica who started out male and got reimagined as female in the reboot.) At first I thought I didn’t have time to watch anything, but somehow Josie and I ended up watching a lot of it together.

  And actually, this was why I was now behind in calculus. (I have a generally decent relationship with math, but it hinges on our spending quality time together.) But SF history had felt as important to me as calculus right then—I needed to prep for the panel. I wanted to fully appreciate the discussion. Fully appreciate both Gina Torres and Zoe Saldana when I saw them. We owed them, like we owed Carrie Fisher. We owe all the dream makers who fire our imaginations. They don’t have to have been perfect to have given us something to imagine, something to hold on to, something to aspire to, something to fight for.

/>   Todd and Meldel were in line for the panel, behind three middle-aged guys in red-shirt unitards (yes, really) who let us into the line with an amiable wave. Meldel’s costume for Captain hadn’t changed, but Todd’s cosplay was new and based on Celie as of Season 2, Episode 4, when Celie is outside the ship; Todd had made her space suit. He had on heavy khaki coveralls and a tool belt. He had twisted his hair into a dozen tight, small pigtails all over his head and tied a hairnet over them to approximate Celie’s helmet. His breathing apparatus was a clear plastic mask over his nose and mouth that was attached via duct tape to long black hoses wrapping around his neck and snaking down to his tool belt.

  “It’s from a vacuum cleaner,” Todd said when I admired the hose construction. He turned so I could see two large metal spiders on the nape of his neck. (In the episode, they fasten themselves to Celie so they can burrow to her brainstem.) “Brooches,” he said. “I superglued them on.”

  “How are you going to get them off?” Cam asked.

  Todd mimed ripping them off with his fingers.

  Liv pointed out, “You might take away a lot of skin.”

  Todd shrugged. “Razor, then.”

  The twins exchanged a look.

  “Sure, go on, slice through your neck,” murmured Liv.

  “So there’s some blood. Who cares? I’ll tell Sebastian not to watch.” Todd thought some more. “Or, you know, I can keep them on as permanent jewelry. Evidence of how totally secure I am in my masculinity.”

  “Nail polish remover,” advised one of the Star Trek cosplayers from in front of us, over his shoulder. “It’s the kryptonite of superglue.”

  “Thanks!”

  The line shuffled forward.

  “Speaking of blood, don’t you Bloodygits want me to demonstrate how I bleed?” Sebastian patted a bulge under his arm. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. My new technology is foolproof. Third time’s the charm.”

  “Of course we want to see you bleed,” I said. “But maybe after the panel?”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  “And we need to be ready to catch you if you faint,” I added anxiously. “And maybe a trial run in private is a good idea. Is it ketchup again?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “No. I’ll tell you after you’ve seen it in action. I’ve already handled it a lot, so that’s why I know I won’t faint. I just needed to know for sure it wasn’t human blood. I think that was the problem.”

  He had said this before, but I kept my peace. Meldel and Todd were finally greeting Josie, who’d been almost hiding behind me, waiting to be recognized rather than stepping forward—an atypical shyness that I attributed to her awe of Meldel.

  “Monica!” said Todd genially to Josie. “There you are. At last!”

  “Hi.”

  “Let’s see your cosplay!” said Meldel with a kind smile.

  I relaxed, happy at how nice they were being to her, while Josie twirled shyly in her lab coat with the ship’s insignia and yellow-and-black striped leggings and her mother’s hiking boots. She also had on a pair of heavy black glasses which I recognized as Warby Parker samples. “Is it too simple?” she asked. “I had to pack light.”

  “Simple’s good,” said Todd.

  “Yours isn’t simple,” Josie pointed out. “Or . . .” She glanced anxiously at Meldel.

  Meldel smiled generously. “Your Monica is fine. Listen, I’m having an idea about a skit based on Monica and Captain. Can you act, Josie?”

  Josie was thrilled. “Wow! Yes! I mean, I haven’t ever, but I’m sure I probably can.”

  Meldel waved an arm grandly. “The flow for it has been, like, streaming into my head. I want to expand on what just happened in Monica’s lab. What if I have Captain come in and catch Monica injecting herself?”

  “With the stuff that’s keeping her in manic-genius mode?” Josie asked.

  “Yes!”

  Josie nodded. “I feel like that might happen for real, don’t you? I mean, it has to. This can’t go on. Monica has to get caught. Plus, how long can she stay manic?”

  “It might be that someone else will figure out what Monica’s doing,” Cam said. “Not Captain. Like, I think Tennah is worried.”

  “The problem there is that Tennah isn’t ever going to tell Bellah anything,” I said. “And Bellah is the one who reviews Monica’s lab results.”

  “In my skit, it’s going to be Captain who notices,” announced Meldel. “Because we need a big scene with Captain and Monica together. Emotions need to run high. The fan base is absolutely dying for them to be together, am I right? So at least there needs to be some big drama. Fan service!”

  “That’s so, so right,” said Josie eagerly. “Monica is dying for a word, a sign, from Captain! Anything but indifference! Even anger!”

  “Yes. I see Captain as absolutely enraged in my skit. In her soft-spoken way, at least to start with. But then maybe she breaks, too. She’s been under so much pressure. Maybe she should be drunk. Should I write a fanfic, too?”

  “Yes! It would be awesome! Can they—can they kiss?”

  “Too much at this point, I think. But they can come close.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “But I see Monica collapsing alone, in a puddle of unspoken desire, at the end of my skit.”

  Josie started to collapse to the floor then and there, but I caught her firmly under the arms. “We’re walking,” I said sternly. “As part of a line that would like to attend the panel.”

  She gave me a look. I revised my view that Josie would be easy to manage.

  We finally got seated, a third of the way from the front. Not bad. I craned my neck to see if Zoe Saldana and Gina Torres were visible yet. Nope.

  “Speaking of Bleeders,” said Liv. “Did Monica discover a possible Bleeder vaccine? Or didn’t she? I know I was confused.”

  I sat up straight. “There was definitely something happening in that petri dish!”

  “But nobody saw it, not even Monica. It’s like when the tree falls in the forest. If nobody’s there, does it matter?”

  “The camera saw it,” I said. “Fans saw it. So it exists! There’s a treatment that makes the virus shrivel up. Why couldn’t they just let Monica see it? The writers, I mean.”

  “Because Monica’s totally losing it,” Josie pointed out. “Between unrequited love and her extra medication. Did you see how her hands were shaking?”

  “She might see the results later,” said Liv.

  “Or she might not,” I countered. “Because why would they let her come up with a cure? Wouldn’t that like end the whole series?”

  “Not necessarily,” Todd said. “We don’t actually know what she’d do with it. I don’t trust Monica one bit. We know nothing about her background.”

  Cam said, “Ahem. If I may interject a clarification. A treatment isn’t the same thing as a vaccine. Given how quickly the virus kills its host, this thing that makes the virus shrivel would need to be given super-fast. So it would hardly help at all. They need a vaccine to cause the body to resist the infection in the first place.”

  We looked at him.

  “Basic science,” said Cam.

  “By all means,” said Todd. “Let’s keep our TV science accurate.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Anyway!” I said.

  Some background on Monica. She’s a medical doctor; everyone on the Mae Jemison is. And Monica is also a research scientist, so she’s incredibly important to their search for a vaccine (not a cure, thank you, Cam). The thing is, she’s no longer reliable. This season, Monica started tweaking her own medication—the stuff she takes because she’s bipolar—to remain manic so that she can work harder and longer. And then she started taking something else to increase her concentration. And let me tell you, there’s nothing like watching a character secretly shoot up to make you nervous.

  So far, Monica’s gotten more and more twitchy and more and more brilliant. (Personally? It’s a little too much like clich�
�s of a mad genius for me. And Josie says flat out that she doesn’t find the storyline credible because “six doctors living in close quarters and you ask me to believe that people wouldn’t notice Monica’s personality change?” But I maybe disagree with that; I think people are basically self-involved enough to miss what isn’t directly in their face. Doesn’t matter how smart they are. I have proof of this in my own life.)

  Anyway. After the episode where Celie was floating around outside the ship fighting for her life and sanity against the invasive space spiders, Monica wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in her experiments, for once, because Captain was in the lab. And that was when viewers saw a test sample of infected tissue react to her latest compound and sort of wither. Which means Monica is finally on the trail of a viable vaccine. Only she doesn’t know it.

  The other question is about trusting Monica. Her background is mysterious and potentially suspect. Was she part of the team that concocted the original virus to begin with? Does Captain know this, if so? Is Monica a double agent of the government who’s being tempted to the side of good because she’s in love with Captain? But Captain is still in love with her piece-of-crap (as far as we know, but some fans hold out hope) husband. Who has got to show up by the end of Season 2, am I right? I understand about the dramatic effect of an offstage character (Meldel has made sure we all do). But at some point, if we don’t meet them, it just feels like a pointless tease.

  We were back into a detailed discussion of all of this when the audience exploded into applause for Gina Torres and Zoe Saldana.

  “But there were no questions of substance!” Liv said afterward. “The moderator led a good discussion, but after that it was all ‘Gina, how terrible was it when they killed off your husband on the show?’ and ‘Zoe, how do you feel about taking up the mantle of such an iconic character?’” Liv used their scarf in a mock stranglehold.

  Meldel added, “And ‘ What does the original Uhura think about Spock versus what Zoe’s Uhura thinks about him? ’ I mean, does it always have to be about the boy?”

  “Lots of wasted opportunity,” said Sebastian. “And no questions about race! Like, at all!”