Location: ADAMS Headquarters (First Haven, Watcher’s Island). Outdoors near the Pilots’ Barracks.<br/>Date: 5 January 2099. Monday<br/>Time: Early Afternoon<br/>Who: Julie Tanaka<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The close quarters of Grigori Program did not leave the pilots and trainees much in the way of privacy, but sooner or later one could get away from all the others for a little while. No one could be expected to train every waking hour of the day, after all. Julie had rushed through lunch to have time for a short walk to one of the benches outside on the grounds. Since there was no one else around she sat down, removed her recorder from her pocket, and activated it.<br/><br/>“Hi, Michelle. It’s January 5th, about one in the afternoon,” she began pleasantly. “I’ve already had quite a day. The press conference went well, or at least I think it did—I’m sure if I’d said anything out of turn, Indira would have given me hell. Thinking about the answers I gave, I have to wonder who I was trying to mollify—the reporters or myself. I’d like to believe the picture I painted—that the road ahead might be difficult, but there’s every reason to be optimistic. That the Grigori might be a mystery in some respects, but we know enough to about them to count on them with humanity’s survival on the line.<br/><br/>“But I just feel this...unease. Maybe it’s partly the sensation I’m trapped. Being a pilot isn’t something I sought out, but I feel obligated—less by the draft than the incredible importance of our duty here. If a promising trainee gives up or fails, doesn’t that lower the odds of our species surviving just a tiny bit? That’s not something I could live with. And it’s fucking twisted to put that responsibility on a teenager,” she added in frustration.<br/><br/>“And maybe some of my unease is because I’ll never quite feel like I’m supposed to be someone ‘important.’ I think of us, picking through the garbage for food unspoiled enough that we figure we can keep it down. Or I think of how completely thrilled we were when Mr. and Mrs. Green took us in, and we got to live in their squalid little shack. I feel like if people could see that, they’d look at all the press materials and pretty posters ADAMS has churned out about me and recognize it for the sad farce it is.”<br/><br/>Julie stopped a moment and sighed. “I don’t know why I’m sounding so miserable on a day that’s been going well. But anyway, it’s time I get going. Take care.” She turned off the recorder and put it back in her pocket.<em>Who says ‘take care’ to someone who’s been dead almost a decade?</em>She was completely aware of how crazy she sounded, but she needed to imagine she was really talking to someone, to get these things off her chest. And there was no one alive who could be completely counted on to listen and to not hurt her—anyone around here might die or leave at any time, but Michelle would never be any more or less lost to her than she was at this moment.<br/><br/>Some time after she got inside, Julie received the order to report to Director Yao’s office. She hurried to Central Command as quickly as she could.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Location: ADAMS Headquarters (First Haven, Watcher’s Island). Central Command - Personal Office of Director Percival Yao<br/>Date: 5 January 2099. Monday<br/>Time: Afternoon<br/>Who: Julie Tanaka<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Julie arrived in the director’s office and briefly took the place in. She was not all that surprised by the lived-in look—a lot of ADAMS personnel burned the candle at both ends. Those who truly comprehended the nature of their responsibility to the rest of the planet did not take any more time off than they needed to stay sane.<em>And sometimes not even that.</em><br/><br/>The pilot trainee took one of the chairs that was offered and sat down as Yao finished speaking. “I’m afraid I’m not being coy when I tell you that I’m not completely sure why I’m here, Director. I guess it could be something that went wrong with the press conference, but I can’t think of anything I said that would warrant your attention. Or it could be a promotion to full pilot—only the way the averages are tallied, I’m at 24% at the moment.<br/><br/>“But anyway, I should probably stop babbling so I won’t have to stay in suspense any longer,” she said with a slight smile.