Interview, ft. Fanpro 0023
0023: Testing. Testing. Zero-zero-zero-one, zero-zero-zero-two, zero-zero-zero-
Interviewer: I think we’re good to go.
0023: You sure? The last time we tried, the mixer made my voice all tinny and high-pitched.
I: We’re sure, thank you. Do you have a name?
0023: Come on, what kind of question is that?! You know we don’t, at least not officially. I swear, you come back after two years and everyone goes and forgets all the rules.
I: I’m sorry, just habit. …And it’s a lot easier than asking for your number.
0023: Hah! Okay, okay, you’ve got me there. My designation is Fanpro Zero-Zero-Two-Three. Twenty-three. Whatever’s easier for you to say. And, yeah, sure, people slap names on me whenever they want. Lillis was one for a while. Mag—rhymed with gag, so let’s not… Hrm. How about Roxanne? You seem like a Roxanne kind of guy.
I: What, me? My name’s not-
0023: Not for you. I meant what you would call me. I’m right, huh? I always had a great sense of that sort of thing.
I: …Amending the record. Interviewee twenty-three is henceforth listed as Roxanne.
Roxanne: One for one on the judge of character! I’ve still got it! Aah… Okay. Now we’ve gone and fucked around for long enough. What all do you folks want to know about little old me?
I: We’re just looking at how you’re doing, now that your… family… is getting up there in numbers. You were in the first generation of Fanpro designs, correct?
R: That’s right! First of, what, eighteen now? Good God, I’m old. Handling it well, though! Not like some of the other old guard. Did you know, I talked to Fifty last week? All they would talk about was how these text-based whippersnappers were doing this and that and the other thing, messing with their mailbox, going around being all “subjective” and “idealized” and what have you. I guess some of us just can’t handle the changing times.
I: There have been some difficulties in adjusting?
R: Well, sure! I mean, we passed the 1000 mark about a year ago, you know. I was there for the shower, of course, had to make an appearance. Sweet kid, even with all the arms and tentacles and such. In this family, you really can’t let that kind of thing throw you off! I mean hell, do you remember Ninety-Six?
I: Uh. Yes. Well, that’s…
R: And another thing! Oh, sure, Thousand was all smiles and cheers, naturally, but I passed “i” and Infinity on the street the other day—arm in arm, as usual—and do you know the kind of greetings I got?
I: Um-
R: NOTHING! The nerve of some of these nonintegers, I swear! Mind you, there’s a couple that are alright. Any time I see Rho walking Pi, they make sure to come over and say hello, which is sweet of them. I… well, I haven’t exactly… talked to Golden Ratio yet, but one of these days I’m sure the opportunity will present itself. …Are you alright?
I: I’m fine, thank you, I just seem to have, er. My notes are a little…
R: Oh, honey, I know I come off a little strong! Don’t you worry about a thing. Look, tell you what. You got a slip of paper?
I: I… yes. Here you go.
R: Lovely. There’s my sister’s cell number, you go talk to her instead, and I’ll make sure she gives you a sweeter welcome than I have. You take care now, alright?
I: But- you- …Alright, very well. Have a good day, Roxanne.
R: You too, dear.
______________________________________________________________
The researcher closed the cell door behind him and mopped his face with a handkerchief. He tossed an index card with “0022” scrawled on it in red marker into a nearby trash can, and looked at his supervisor, who was barely suppressing a grin.
“What are you smiling about?” he snapped, reshuffling his notes.
“Oh, nothing. I just remember my first turn in her cell. She told you to call her Roxanne, didn’t she?”
“How did you- What about it?”
The senior researcher’s smile immediately flickered out, replaced with a glare. She took hold of the younger man’s notes, tossing them into the garbage along with the index card. “You’ve had the briefing. You know about the memory limitations of the earlier models. I understand that the degree in your office means that you are not a particularly stupid man, so I’ll say this once.”
He gulped.
“We do not need you to be friends with these beings. We need you to figure out where they came from. We need you to figure out how they were made. And, most importantly, we need you to figure out how to stop them. The world cannot afford another Infinity Incident, not in any sense of the word. Do you understand me?”
“…Yes, Ma’am.”
“Now, get back in there. She should have forgotten you by now.” A thoroughly manicured hand shoved him toward the door, and the only sound besides the brisk clacking of heels against the steel floor was a voice:
“Testing. Testing. Zero-zero-zero-one…”
