intake interview | isha feinberg
“I’m just pulling up your file, can you remind me where you were before joining us at Colony 22?”
[Isha stands carefully in the doorway, regarding the person behind the desk before deciding whether or not she would be comfortable sitting down. They were brisk and efficient: cold. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she was already on her guard. There was a great deal of chaos in the air since the NWRF arrived and she had heard their ‘Mandate’. It made her sick.]
I was in the penitentiary. [It is a precise answer, giving away no more than had been asked. There’s no sense in lying as this person will see the truth on their screen in a moment, but she also has no intention of elaborating. She’s been here since near enough day one. She had waited.
Now, she sat. It was not an act of submission to this person’s interview; rather, it was an assertion. When Isha sits it is perfectly tidy, straight backed and hands folded, and she regards the newcomer with an unwavering gaze. It says, unblinking: you don’t scare me.]
“Do you or did you have much involvement with Infected persons?”
[It’s a foolish question. Which makes sense, Isha supposes, coming from foolish people. They branded their ignorance right into their Mandate, and she could only imagine that they were asking this now because they wanted to test the compliance of those within the Colony. They would see who could be broken, who would be cowed and ashamed of their love of the Infected.
It wouldn’t be Isha. She knew when to comply, because pride was a poison she hadn’t the stomach for, and she knew that trees that bent to the battering wind would not snap.]
Yes. [No more, no less. Isha is infected, and Ada is infected, and again they can read that in her file if they wish it. She’s never had much time for anyone else -- or, to be precise, she’s never had much patience for anyone else. Time, she has in surplus. Patience, on the other hand, is a virtue that Isha carefully maintains. For the things that matter -- slow, prowling things like a panther in midnight gloom -- she will wait endlessly. A social life is not one of those things. She is comfortable with her books, and with her one dependable friend.]
“As I’m sure you can appreciate, we strive to offer a welcoming environment to all of our residents. It’s our hope that we can rebuild a co-operative society, which means we discourage our residents from getting involved in any… upsetting political discourse. Do we understand each other? Do you have any concerns?”
[How manipulative. They’re playing at being friends, but it’s a poor play-pretend, like a child pouring from an empty teapot for an audience of glassy eyed teddy bears. The performance is for the interviewer’s sake, not Isha’s. They just want her to be that glassy eyed teddy bear.]
You ask me if we understand each other. It seems very peculiar to me that you would say that, because it suggests you know there is subtext in your words. If you will ask me if I understand the subtext, then why would you not simply tell me what you mean in the first place? [She asks this lightly, without a hint of aggression. She may as well be commenting upon the weather. Without waiting for an answer (because she already knows what it would be), she continues:] I don’t find political discourse upsetting.
[If they want to play silly games with words, then Isha can join in.]
“How do you feel you’ve been adjusting to life these last few years? Is there anything we can provide for you in the way of additional support?”
[It’s a very bad game of play pretend. They are so concerned about offering support and creating a welcoming environment, which would have been lovely at the start of all of this. As it is, Colony 22 has existed in peace for years. The only thing that threatened it, was these people turning up and instating rules that were neither wanted nor needed.
The only way they could offer ‘additional support’ would be by hopping back on the ship they’d arrived on and leaving. Even better, they could get on the ship and scuttle it, and then the Atlantic could have them and they’d not be a problem for anybody.]
No, thank you. I have adjusted very well. [Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.]
“The people here seem to really value the health and stability of the community. The NWRF wants to protect that. In what way do you see yourself fitting in and contributing?”
[Isha has had years of experience when it comes to pretending people don’t make her sick to her stomach. Nobody has ever accused her of being warm, it’s true, but few would guess just how deeply she hates. It’s thanks to these years of experience that she keeps a straight face now, blinking with the placidity of milk.
They wish to protect nothing. They wish to oppress the Infected, and they only wish the Infected would let themselves be walked on.
It has been a long time since she felt anger like this. The Colony has always been frustrating, limiting if in a less precise way than the penitentiary, but she has never felt like anyone wishes her to be a second class citizen before. Now, she is being asked to accept her new role with grace and submissive shame; not only that, but she is being asked to fit in neatly to their narrative. Isha won’t do it.]
‘Contributing to society’ is a very strange concept. Did you know that the reason we think that Neadnderthals were hunched over is because the first Neanderthal skeleton we found had arthritis? His body was preserved because he had been buried with care and love. He could not ‘contribute’ because of his arthritis, but even so he was respected. Value is inherent to human life, not a privilege we must earn. As you can see on my file, I have not caused problems. I have been very quiet here, I don’t hurt anyone. If I am doing no harm, I don’t believe it is so vital that I ‘fit in’ in the way you suggest.
[She had never been concerned about fitting in, and she was even less so inclined now. She rarely liked to make waves, particularly not before she understood a situation fully, but she also wanted to make it crystal clear to this person that she would not be their nice little puppet. She would not smile while they judged her. She would not mindlessly obey rules just because they said so.]
“Do you have any existing connections of significance here at Colony 22? Would you mind telling me a little about these relationships?”
[This is a leading question. They know already, Isha is sure, about Ada. All sorts of things are written in these files, and an old friendship between two ex-cons would certainly be a point of interest. Isha didn’t like to think of herself as an ex-con and resented just how defined she was by that now, but it was inescapable. What she couldn’t work out, was precisely why they wanted to know about Isha’s relationship with Ada. Her immediate thought was to see how much of a threat they were likely to be, and if she was to tell the truth?
These ‘Reformists’ should be very worried. There was nothing Isha wouldn’t do to defend Ada, and she knew Ada was as angry as she was about this change in power. It was more clearly written in Ada, who had always been the fire to Isha’s ice, but they shared the same rage.]
I do mind. Thank you for asking, and for respecting my boundaries. [It isn’t quite playing stupid, but rather, relying on social norms. Isha toes the line between manners and rudeness, and she thinks it is a game she can win today. These Reformists are playing nice for now, and so she knows this person won’t call her out and force her to speak. Until she decides what to do -- and she will do something -- Isha will walk that knife’s edge with her usual unflappable grace.]
