A Couples Versions of the Same Tragedy

December 1st, 2066:
Through the sleek desk's speakers, Adam's nervous laughter rings like tin, filling the room.
“I feel like I'm trapped in that old joke, Doctor Stein. You know the one, right? Two drones are flying in the desert, their unblinking eyes scanning the land below. They've flown for days and days, but haven't yet seen a single person they need to kill. So the First-Drone asks the Second-Drone, 'You think we'll ever find who we're looking for?' To which the Second-Drone replies, 'Oh, I don't doubt it.' Sure enough, as they crest the next dune, they spot a caravan with camels and long shadows. The Second-Drone, as soon as it spots the caravan, fires all of its weapons at once, scouring the sand clean. The First-Drone exclaims, 'Wow, that was incredible! How did you know they were who we were looking for?' The Second-Drone, without pause, signals back, 'I just figured. After all, people all look the same to me!'”

“Nonsense. You make your job out to be some sort of mind-numbing bore. You know that you're lucky to have this job. You know how much better it is than your last one.” Doctor Stein sighs, removes his glasses, and rubs the bridge of his nose. Eight hours of therapy. At least two more to go. When he isn't with patients, he longs for his grad school days – and a window. He stands up, adjusts himself, cracks his back, sits again with a soft groan. His office is a cubicle with a door, but at least his chair is comfy. “Adam, do me a favor and remember where you were two years ago, when you were watching Little Green Men invade Minsk? Remember how much you hated that?”
“Yeah, Doc. But that's different. I was miserable because of what happened- ”

“I know, but even before I began treating you for PTSD, you were a patient of mine.

Remember all the hours you and I spent together talking about the kind of future you wanted to build for yourself, the exact kind of future you have right now? You travel, you have excitement, great benefits, what's not to like?”

“I guess I'm just lonely now, Doc.”

“What's there to be lonely about? You're in the military, Adam. You're in the business of meeting new and exciting people.”

December 3rd, 2066:
Adam calls laughing again.
“I think I've found someone, Doctor.” Adam sounds better than he has in weeks. “You

were right! I'm in the military, I'm definitely in the business of meeting new and exciting people – I just had to branch out and reconsider some of the connections I've made in my network. I meet people all the time, people I never think about because they're related to my job, people I could be considering as friends!”

“Adam, that's wonderful! Can you tell me about them? What's their name?” A pause. “I don't know her name.”

“Well, how did you meet her?”
Another. “Oh, I've seen her around a couple of times, I guess. I should say that I haven't really met her yet. But, she's a person that I see through my work, who I have come to admire from afar. And I think I'm ready to talk to her.”

“When? It isn't good to obsess about these things, Adam. If you feel the urge to do it, you should do it now. It's always better to act on a feeling than to let it sit and fester. And I

Erik Kindel 7/16/2015 e.kindel@gmail.com 610-597-9865 Los Angeles, CA 1867 Words
know you, you're the kind to let things fester. So do yourself a favor, Adam, don't overthink this one.”

“But Doctor Stein, what if she doesn't like me? She's a local, does some political work on the ground in Warsaw or something. I don't even know if we speak the same language!”

“If you go to her with an open heart, and an open mind, then you will speak the same language – the language of love.”

“Thanks, Doc. That's beautiful. Where'd you hear that?”
“Oh, thanks, Adam. I just made that up. Or maybe it's from an old movie? Chappie?” “I love a classic.”
Adam's icon disappears, and Doctor Stein shrugs. Todays conversation had been

short, but Adam really did sound better. He readies himself for his next patient. Next door, and in every cubicle of the concrete building, therapists readied themselves for their next patients. Outside, the sun set in Texas.

December 7th, 2066:
Adam is early today.

“Her name is Maria and she's beautiful, Doctor.”
“Well hello to you too, Adam.”
“I've been seeing her around all the time – I mean, still from a distance, but at least I see

her. I can't wait to talk to her, to get to know her-”
“Then why haven't you, already?
“Because I can't ever get close enough – you know I'm still running routes through the de-militarized zone by Bialystok. I only see her when I get close enough to Warsaw, and that's for work. When I land, I'm spent, and she's so far away. It's not like I can just get up and go see her for a date.”

“Well, if you think she's a person you're comfortable opening up to, then you should just make it a point to talk to her. The military can't stop true love, right? If you get the chance – if you can find a way to get close to her – you should introduce yourself. Maybe try and ask for her number. Or coffee?”

“ I will, Doctor Stein.” A pause.
“I just want to thank you, for all the help-”
“Nonsense, Adam. I just sit here and listen. Any advice I give is because I like you, and

I want to help you realize your best possible self. All of this progress though, it's all you. Adam, you've done all this yourself.”

“No, Doctor, I haven't. I don't exactly have a lot of friends, and I don't have any family to speak of. You've been a big part of my life these past couple years, and ever since I had to...” “You can say it, Adam. It was self defense. You were shot at first and you returned fire.

The fact that it was a younger combatant-” “A child, Doctor.”

“Fine. The fact that it was a child doesn't matter. You've gotten through this, largely by yourself. And because you have overcome it yourself, now you can take this next step. Adam, you have the chance to share yourself with someone other than your therapist. Don't let your past hold you back.”

“You're right. I'll do it. I'll find a way to contact her, even if its just a message. I can do this. But I gotta go, Doctor, I have a surveillance mission. Thank's for the help. We'll talk soon.”

“You're still on for tomorrow-”
There's no use, Adam's gone. A short conversation was better than no conversation at all. Maybe Adam was feeling like he should.

December 9th, 2066:
“I did it, Doctor Stein.” He could practically hear Adam's smirk through the speakers. “You contacted her?”
“Yes. I sent her a letter in the most ingenious way. I'm really proud of myself for being so clever. See, I knew I wouldn't be flying close to Warsaw, but I knew that near the end of my route I might be close enough to activate the auto-targeting and fire a rocket in her direction. You know with the new hardware, if you can lock on to a person's face once, you can lock on to them again at any time – the satellites just track that sort of thing now. It makes my life easier, and it let me send her a letter! Explaining everything, of course. See, before I left the base I just switched out the payload of a rocket for my letter. I fired it towards her, prayed a little, and then came back to base. Now I'm talking to you, Doctor.”

“Do you think she got it?”

“The targeting system took care of it. At this hour, it should have just embedded itself into the wall of her house. And, best of all, if anyone finds out, I can just blame the firing on some sort of mechanical error.”

“Sounds like you really thought this one through, Adam. But, what if she wasn't home when you sent the message?”

Adam's icon disappears.

December 10th, 2066:
His shift would be over soon. Outside the bunker, Doctor Stein suspected that the sun was setting. But he wouldn't see it that day. His shift would end soon, but he'd still miss the sunset by some time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sunset.

Doctor Stein looks at his watch, then at the notes on his desk. He'd seen three patients that day. At 10AM, he discussed separation anxiety with Lola. Agoraphobia with Aden at 12PM. Took a break from 2-3, then talked bulimia with Ben at 3PM. Now it was 5:20PM and the sun was setting and he had nothing to do since his 5:00 didn't show. Adam didn't show.

At 5:30, there's a call, and the Doctor lets it ring a couple of times before picking it up. It must be Adam. At last, he lifts the receiver.

“You're late, Adam. You better have a good reason – like spending too much time with Maria. You got her that letter, right?”

“Doctor..”.
“Well, Adam? Did you meet with her? Did you talk?”
“Doctor I... yeah, I saw her. That's why I'm so late today.”
“That's great, Adam! Why don't you sound happier?”
“Because I saw her today. I saw her at the center of a great procession streaming

through the old Warsaw city walls. They were flanked by tanks, all clad in black. Everyone's face was veiled, men and women alike. I couldn't target any of them. I couldn't see any of their faces, but I could see hers. I could see hers clear as day, right at the center, an island of pure white in a river of darkness, bearing her towards our border.”

“Adam, you don't mean...”

“You were right, Doc. She wasn't at home when I sent her the message. She was at an anti-surveillance rally. It was all over the news last night. She was on stage, giving a speech about us – about me. There were thousands spread out in front of her, cameras all around, and armed men at her sides. She called for our abolition, my elimination. She specifically called for the A.rtificial D.efender/ A.utonomous M.onitor drones to be outlawed under international law, and force the Americans to withdraw from the skies over Europe. And it was right then, in front of all those people, that my message got to her.”

On the other end, choking sobs, metallic through the speaker. Adam's icon disappears, and Doctor Stein sits in silence. Outside, the last rays of sun fade on the horizon. There is still time in his shift, so he prepares his notes ahead of time and wonders how he managed to not make a “heart to heart” joke, and then wonders if this job has changed him.