Vivian popped a dark berry in her mouth, closing her eyes. “Don’t you just love blackberries?”
“I tend to prefer strawberries,” Austin replied, glancing at the plate stacked high with fruit on the table between them.
“Yes, strawberries are good as well,” Vivian said, selecting another blackberry from the pile, “but there is something about the mix of tart and sweet, in the subtle flavor, of a blackberry that just speaks to me.” She chuckled. “I guess that sounds weird, huh?”
“Not really,” Austin shrugged. “It means you are in touch with the world around you, I think.”
Vivian’s eyes lit up at his words. “Yes, exactly! You are very astute.”
Austin smiled. “I try to be.”
“And funny, too!” she said, looking very pleased. “So,” she continued, “tell me more about yourself.”
“Well,” Austin started. “What about myself? I never know where to start with that question.”
“Hmm,” Vivian murmured, tapping her chin. “I feel like everyone always asks about what you do, where you work, where you grew up. Those seem like such boring questions; they don’t really say that much about us, do they?” Clearly that was a rhetorical question, because she continued. “I want to know more about you. Let’s see… What was your favorite book as a kid?”
Austin leaned back in his chair, thinking. “Probably The Hobbit. My mom would read it to me when I was sick, or if I was missing my dad.”
“Why would you miss your dad?”
Austin shifted slightly. “He… traveled a lot. Wasn’t around much when I was a kid.” Sadness and love mingled on his face. “But when he was around, he was a great dad. He taught me how to swim, and how to hold my own in an argument. Which,” he smiled, “I think he ended up regretting.”
Vivian laughed. “See? This tells me so much more about you than what you do for a living.” She looked wistful. “My favorite book was Where the Wild Things Are. Max got to go on an adventure, got to dance with the monsters, and still go home at night. My mother always said I was more wild thing than Max.”
She looked solemn for a moment, but a cheerful smile quickly spread across her face. “Let’s see, what else could I ask… I know! Where do you get your sense of ethics, your moral code?”
Austin blinked. “That seems like a rather sudden change in topic.”
She laughed. “I know, I’m sorry. My mind sometimes wanders to the strangest places. But still,” she said, leaning forward. “I’d like to know.”
“I suppose,” he started, “that my understanding of right and wrong come from growing up Christian.”
Vivian sighed, as though disappointed.
“Is there something wrong with that?” he asked, a little annoyed.
“No,” she said, tracing a water stain on the table. “It’s just a little unimaginative, isn’t it?”
“Where do you get your morality, then?” Austin asked.
“Well,” Vivian said with a little smile. “I think that I mostly base my decisions, my moral compass, on the situation I am in, what is needed in the moment. My morality is more… fluid, than most people’s.”
“Then how do you know if things are fair, or just, if you don’t have an objective standard?”
“Objective?” she said, throwing her head back with a laugh. “What makes you think there is such a thing as objectivity? There are just as many worlds as there are people or animals in it. There is no real objectivity, especially when it comes to right and wrong.”
Austin scratched his head, studying her. “What about facts? If there is no objectivity, how do you account for things like gravity?”
“Oh,” she countered, “facts are fine. I believe that what goes up must come down, that 2+2=4. No, it’s the interpretation of the facts, the use of them, that cannot be objective.”
“Well,” he said, “I think we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”
“I suppose so.”
They sat silently for a few minutes, both deep in thought.
“Can I ask you a question?” Austin asked, hesitantly.
Vivian perked up, eyes bright. “Of course!”
“Do you believe in God?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Really? I just told you my morality is hazy, at best, that I thought Christianity, organized religion in general, was unimaginative. What makes you think I believe in any kind of god?”
“You can not like religion and still believe in a higher power,” Austin argued.
She tilted her head, considering the question. “I suppose you are right about that. But no, I don’t believe in a god. I’ve seen too much to have that kind of faith.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Does that bother you?”
“A little,” he admitted.
“Well,” she smiled, slightly, “thank you for being honest.” She took a deep breath, examining the fruit plate again. “You know,” she said, picking up a slice of strawberry. “This is why I love my job. I get to have so many interesting conversations.”
“Your job?” Austin asked, his brow furrowing.
“Yes,” she said brightly. “I always start my interrogations with a little chat, to establish a baseline and make sure the cocktail of drugs is working correctly.”
“Wait, what? Interrogation? What’s going on here?” Austin’s voice grew higher as he spoke.
“Well, haven’t you wondered yet, who I am? Where you are?” Her voice was smooth, patient.
Austin looked around suddenly, wildly. “How do I not remember…”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” she said, soothingly. “How about we talk about something else?”
“What do you mean, don’t worry? You’ve kidnapped me!”
She heaved a long sigh. “Don’t be so dramatic. You accepted my invitation for dinner, and I just took a little… creative liberty, with how you got here.” She leaned across the table with a smile. “I know so much about you, Austin. And about your father, the General.” She lifted her glass, gazing at him over the rim. “Now,” she murmured. “How about you tell me everything you know about his work, his schedule. When he will be alone, when he is surrounded by his aides. And,” she said, taking a sip, “which he cares for more. You, or his job?”
Austin tried to keep his mouth shut, he really did, but in short order he was spilling everything he knew about his father’s work. Vivian listened intently, offering small noises or questions to indicate her interest, and she only glanced at the hidden camera once. She really did love her job…