Waking Gods

by Sylvain Neuvel

  I realize I’ve been wrong about one thing this whole time. I’ve let my ego get in the way. I thought … I still think our best hope for survival is with the EDC. I thought you people were just getting in the way. I forgot that the EDC is supposed to be an extension of this room, that you’re all a part of it, in a way. It was stupid of me to ask you to stand aside and do nothing. God knows I couldn’t. I know you’re all as vested in this as we are. I know you wanna help.

  This morning, I’ve asked my people to share all the data we had on the alien gas with each and every one of your governments. You should have it by now. I know many of you were working on a cure already, but if you weren’t, get your best people on it. Hell, get your worst people on it. You never know. We will also share everything we have on the alien robots, all of it. We’ll make that data available to everyone. Our data should be on the EDC website this evening. Tell the world. The key to our survival might be in the hands of a really smart kid, somewhere. Make sure he knows. That is what I want from you. Help us. Do not send your armies to die in vain. Do not launch more missiles. Help us.

  I have hope.

  That’s all I have to say. Now go home. Go home and tell your family you love them. Tell them ten times, a hundred times. Do it while you can. And if we somehow survive this, keep doing it. In the end, it’s all that really matters.

  FILE NO. 1594

  INTERVIEW WITH VINCENT COUTURE, CONSULTANT, EARTH DEFENSE CORPS

  Location: Shadow Government Bunker, Lenexa, KS

  —You can sit down Vincent.

  —Thank you Rose. Can I still call you Rose?

  —Why wouldn’t you?

  —I don’t know. You’re in his chair. You’re taping this. Feels weird to have you sitting in front of me and not him.

  —Believe me, it feels a lot stranger being on this side of the table.

  —Are you sure he’s dead?

  —I was there, Vincent.

  —I know. I just thought … I thought he’d be able to weasel his way out of this, twist God’s arm, tell him he had nude pictures of him or something.

  —He was very human in the end. He really liked you, you know?

  —Yeah … I thought so. He … When I woke up in the hospital after Ryan crushed my legs into a wall, he was there sitting by my bed. He must have been sitting there for hours. He could have asked the hospital staff to call him, but he chose to stay. For years, I tried to figure out what he had to gain. Over time, I … I guess I got used to the idea that he might have just cared. Then again, maybe he thought gaining my trust was important for the project. Who knows?

  —Probably a bit of both. But he did care. Strange as it may seem, you were the closest thing he had to family.

  —He called me Mr. Couture.

  —That was a sign of respect.

  —Strange man. I wish I knew something about him, who he was.

  — … Me too.

  —Rose, I—

  —What is it?

  —I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I’m so happy, relieved, that you’re here, that you’re safe, but how—

  —How did I survive the gas? I’m not sure. Alyssa’s back from London. She’s analyzing my blood now. I assume I have the same genetic anomalies that every other survivor has.

  —Does that mean you’re … ?

  —An alien? Part alien? I don’t know. I guess so. I was having a hard time figuring out who I was before. This is just—

  —Could they have altered your DNA when they … brought you back?

  —Ten years ago, they said my genetic profile was an exact match to … well, to mine, to hers. They said I was me. It’s possible they missed something back then. I won’t know until Alyssa runs more tests. To be honest, it would be a relief, somehow. If I weren’t really Rose Franklin … I know how this sounds, but—

  —You’d have a reason to feel the way you do. You’d know you’re not … crazy. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.

  —No, no! That’s exactly what I meant. Thank you. On the other hand, if I was one of them, if I had some alien blood to begin with, it would explain why they chose to bring me back from the dead.

  —Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to save a distant cousin. I think you guys may be wrong on this whole alien thing.

  —Maybe. I wish I had a better explanation. We keep talking about me, but how are you holding up?

  —I’m … I don’t know how I feel. I’m still … numb.

  —If anyone could cheat death, I thought it would be Kara.

  —I know, right? Spit in its face. Kick it in the teeth. It’s my fault she’s dead, you know?

  —Vincent, there’s—

  —No, no. It’s true. If I’d climbed the ladder a tiny bit faster, if I hadn’t been scared of heights, if I’d reached the hatch on the first try … There are so many things I could have done. I just had to get up there—what?—two, three seconds faster. Kara would still be alive. I’d have a wife. Eva would have … someone to call Mom. But I didn’t, and she fell. She’s dead. She doesn’t exist anymore. She was a person. Now she’s not.

  I’m smart enough to know I haven’t quite come to terms with what happened yet. I can say it, I can explain it, you know. Kara’s dead. My wife’s dead. But it’s not real yet. I can’t believe I’m telling you this—I feel like an asshole for thinking it—but what bothers me most, now, is not knowing what she was thinking when she fell. Did she blame me? I don’t want her last thoughts to have been how her husband killed her. Awful, isn’t it? How selfish is that? Moi, moi, moi!

  When I killed you ten years ago—

  —Vincent, don’t.

  —Please, let me finish. I’ve killed you, so some of this feels familiar, but with you, it hit me right away. I felt it. The pain, the guilt. The realization that you’ll never feel any of what you felt with that person ever again. Might be because it’s the end of the world, but it all feels like a movie now. It’s … muffled.

  I see her fall over and over again in my head, so I’m sure it’ll sink in at some point. The hatch was closed, but I can see her. I don’t think the image would be any clearer if I’d been watching. She’s falling backwards into the void, her arms spread. She fades into a sea of white smoke. Then she’s gone. Repeat. She’s falling backwards into the void, her arms spread. She fades into a sea of white smoke. Repeat.

  —Did you cry?

  —Did I cry? I cried when it happened, inside Themis. I cried for a long time. But no, I haven’t cried since. Why do you ask?

  —I haven’t cried either. Kara’s really the closest thing I had to a best friend. I could try and explain how much she meant to me, but it doesn’t matter. I know. But I haven’t cried. Yesterday, I watched a man die, right in front of me, thought I was next. How many people died in New York? Two, three million? Kara died. Today I’m here setting up the lab. All in a day’s work. Don’t torture yourself, Vincent. Nothing feels real anymore. Nothing.

  What are you smiling about?

  —I was thinking about Kara. It’s just … never mind. Stupid memories.

  —No, I wanna know.

  —Did I ever tell you about our wedding night?

  —Tell me. Well, not everything.

  —Oh, I can tell you the whole thing. I spent the night with a traveling salesman. Bob. No really, that was his name. There was a reception at the hotel after the ceremony, but as soon as people started leaving, Kara dragged me and some of her childhood friends to this bar where they used to hang out. Shitty place, but we had a good time. I danced with her friends.

  —Kara doesn’t dance.

  —No she doesn’t. But she beat everyone at the pool table. Kara can … Kara could play. She loved playing pool. Her friends were buying her drinks, lots of drinks. Never the same one. That’s what happens when you take a bunch of grown-up people with jo
bs and families and you let them pretend they’re twenty years younger for a few hours. They get stupid real fast. Kara threw up on the pool table after a shot of … I don’t remember what it was. Something nasty. We got kicked out, of course. I had to use the conspiracy puker to talk the staff into letting us back in.

  —I’m sorry. The “conspiracy puker”?

  —Oh, you don’t know that one.

  —I’ve never been kicked out of a bar.

  —I told them we were having a good time, minding our own business, when this kid with a White Sox baseball cap bumped into us and threw up on my feet. Right on my shoes. I went to the bathroom to clean it up, but Kara was so grossed out she threw up herself. You know. What kind of establishment are you guys running? People throwing up on other people’s shoes! This is my wedding night!

  —Did they let you back in?

  —Of course. Twenty minutes later, Kara got into a fight with two guys who were harassing a girl. She didn’t even know the girl, they just pissed her off. They took it outside, so we didn’t get thrown out again.

  —Did Kara win?

  —What do you think? Kara can’t handle her liquor, but she can take two assholes anytime. Could. But she fell on a piece of broken glass, cut her hand pretty bad.

  We took a cab to the hotel. We were both done for. Kara could barely walk. She was bleeding. We must have been pretty loud because we woke up Bob in the next room trying to get our door to open with that stupid plastic card. He was pissed at first but then he saw Kara’s hand. It was a pretty nasty cut. He said we had to disinfect that thing and put a proper bandage on it—she’d Scotch-taped a few napkins on her hand at the bar before we left. We sat in the corridor while Bob went to the lobby to get a first-aid kit. They didn’t have anything, so we put Kara on the couch in Bob’s room and he drove me around town looking for a CVS or anything else that was open. By the time we got back, Kara was sound asleep. I tried to wake her up, but she was just gone. We cleaned her hand and put a nice white bandage on it—well, Bob did—and we let her sleep. I stayed up with Bob. He didn’t know who we were, so we emptied the minibar talking about what it’s like to sell plumbing supplies across the Midwest. Fun night.

  —I’m sorry your wedding night didn’t go as planned.

  —No, I meant it! It was a fun night.

  —I miss her. So much.

  —She loved you like a sister.

  — … What about Eva? That’s her name, right? How is she?

  —Eva is … Eva’s OK … I guess. She knew. Somehow she knew Kara was her mother.

  —How did she know?

  —I have no idea. I haven’t talked to her about it. I figured that meant she also knew about me, that I’m her father, and I can’t be that right now.

  —You’re gonna have to be something to her, Vincent. You’re all she’s got.

  —That’s … what I wanted to talk to you about. I—

  —What is it?

  —I’d like you to take care of her.

  —Vincent, this is—

  —Just for a while. I need to get away from all this.

  —She needs you.

  —I’m no good to her right now.

  —Vincent, the parents she’s known all her life were killed right in front of her. Then she somehow figures out Kara’s her biological mother, and she has to watch her die the very next day. Now the world’s coming to an end and she’s all alone in an underground military base. She needs her father, not some strange woman she’s never met. She needs you, and I don’t think she can wait until you get over your grief. You don’t know how to be a father right now? Fine! I’m sure she has no idea how to be your daughter either. You’re just gonna have to figure this out together.

  —I’m not saying I’ll give her the silent treatment for the rest of her life. I’m not ready to be her father now, today.

  —Vincent, I don’t think you’re listening. No one cares whether you’re ready or not. It’s not up to you. You’re her father, you can’t change that.

  — …

  —What would Kara say?

  —That’s not fair. I don’t know how! I can’t! I think the kid is doing better than I am anyway.

  —Like I said, I haven’t met her yet.

  —You haven’t asked her to try Kara’s station?

  —She’s a minor, Vincent. I would need her parents to sign off on it. That’s you.

  —You haven’t asked me either.

  —I was afraid you’d say yes.

  —You don’t want her to try?

  —Oh, I want her to try. I’m curious, like everyone else. Part of me also wants us to put up a fight. But if it were my daughter, I wouldn’t let her go anywhere near that robot.

  —I wanna fight them too. I don’t want us to go quietly. I … I want to avenge Kara more than anything. But I don’t want Eva’s life to be just that. Violence.

  —What will you do?

  —I have no idea.

  —You said you needed to get away. Take her with you.

  —And go where?

  —Anywhere you want.

  —I could—

  —What?

  —I could, maybe, take her back to Canada, find a quiet place, as far away from the city as possible. You know, try to give her something that feels like a normal life, even if it’s only for a short while.

  —That’s a beautiful idea.

  —No it’s not. It’s a stupid idea. It’s a movie scene: small wooden shack, by a creek. Young girl playing in the grass. I’m not a farmer. Even if I were, I won’t buy a farm! We’ll end up sleeping in my car, begging for food.

  —You don’t have a car.

  —I don’t have papers to cross the border with a ten-year-old either.

  —I’m not sure people care about these things anymore.

  —Oh, they care. I’m not the only one who thought Canada might be safer. There are tens of thousands of people massing at the border. So far, they’ve used tear gas, rubber bullets. About a dozen people were killed. I don’t think they’re letting anyone through, even with the right papers.

  —You can stay here. It doesn’t have a creek, or grass, but it’s safe, at least for the moment.

  —Not sure how safe it is for Eva. I don’t think they’ll just let her leave.

  —Who is “they”? Eugene is in Geneva trying to stop everyone from bombing their own people. It’s just me running this place right now.

  —There’s a guard on Eva’s door.

  —Why?

  —You know why. We’re guests here, Rose. You may be running what’s left of the EDC, but this is an American base, full of American soldiers, and they don’t take orders from us.

  FILE NO. 1597

  INTERVIEW WITH MR. BURNS, OCCUPATION UNKNOWN

  Location: New Dynasty Chinese Restaurant, Dupont Circle, Washington, DC

  —Good morning, Ms. Franklin. Can I call you Rose? I’ve heard so much about you!

  —Of course. What do you want me to call you?

  —Mr. Burns will do just fine. I’d like to keep some anonymity. Half of it anyway.

  —You have something in common with … with our mutual friend.

  —We have a lot more in common than you think. He will be missed. I don’t know by whom, but he will be missed. I’ll certainly miss his sense of humor. He was a funny guy!

  —I’m not sure “funny guy” is how I would describe him.

  —Maybe you just need a better sense of humor. I was surprised to get a call from you. I was even more surprised you knew about this place.

  —He had it in his notes.

  —You read his notes? I’m so jealous! What did it say?

  —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.