Monthly Interview: Meet the Wisemans (Patreon)

A spotlight shines on Nicholas Wiseman, wearing a formal suit and with his hair neater than usual. He sits on the edge of his seat with rigidly correct posture, staring at the two empty seats in front of him.

He clears his throat and addresses the camera with a stiff smile.

Nick: Greetings all, and welcome to today’s behind the scenes interview! This evening, we’ll be interviewing two legendary UCRT Members who also happen to be two of my favorite people. Let’s hear a welcoming round of applause for . . . Hope and John Wiseman!

John and Hope enter onto the stage, taking their seats. Hope’s gaze warms as she takes in Nick’s appearance, and his smile relaxes under her approving scrutiny.

Nick: Also known as my mom and dad. Glad to have you two on the show!

John: Glad to be back.

Hope waves quietly at the camera. She shifts in her seat, nervous how the audience will respond to her presence, and John lays his hand on her knee.

Nick: Hope and John Wiseman—man, do I feel cheeky calling my parents by their first name—helped to found Unity, and both were the very first leaders of UCRT. So tell me, why did you both decide to join the military?

John: It paid for college. Hoo-rah!

Hope: I started out as a translator, and ended up being assigned as an aide to the UN’s Director of the Division for Social Policy and Development in NYC. When the question of using designated Ment taskforces in UN allied troops arose during the Korean Reunification, they sent me to help oversee the integration since I was one of the few Ments in UN employ.

John: Korean is also one of the seven languages that she speaks. They didn’t choose her just because she was a Ment!

Hope: Really, John. They mostly chose me because I was a Ment.

Nick: Dad, you were one of the first to push for exclusively Ment units. Was there a specific event that made you feel like there should be Ment-only taskforces?

John: Almost all North Korean leadership had some form of mental agility, especially the ones highest on the pecking order. It was one of the reasons that desertion was so rare despite the god-awful conditions that their troops were under. What soldiers did seek refuge were mostly Ments who’d hidden their abilities and thus been able to resist their commander’s empathic order for unwavering loyalty.

Nick: That made Ment-only taskforces essential?

John: The Korean Reunification wasn’t like other wars. After my first encounter, I realized that these guys would fight to the death, because they literally weren't allowed to even contemplate surrender.

Hope: Telepathic coercion was also why so many of our captured troops ended up “switching sides.” Sleep deprivation and starvation makes a brain incredibly susceptible to psychic suggestion, and after the first few months of fighting, North Korean forces began to kidnap and brainwipe South Korean soldiers in order to replenish their ranks. They only left allied troops alone because of the language barrier.

John: It was a level of Ment crime that the modern world had never seen. I may not’ve been able to convince an enemy combatant to drop their gun, but I was at least able to shove their leader’s voice out of their heads long enough for them to have the choice to do so. My Norm buddies didn’t have that option—they could either shoot an enemy who didn’t have full control of himself, possibly a brainwashed man they’d fought beside in the past, or be shot themselves.

Hope: I also grew concerned with the international lash back that the Ment community was bound to face world-wide after it came to light how powers were being used. Creating a Ment taskforce to directly fight against the crimes of other Ments at least meant proving to the public that our powers could also be used to protect.

Nick: After the Reunification, Unity was founded as an organization for Ments to combat Ment crime. What was the best part of being on UCRT?

John: Being on UCRT was so much better than being a soldier. The missions became about saving people instead of just seizing territory goals.

Hope: Agreed. Ments weren’t allowed to join American law enforcement back then, but Unity gave us a way to help. I was able to use my telemetry to locate missing persons.

She smiles in fond reminiscence.

Hope: Seeing a kid returned to their family was always the best part.

Nick: What was the worst thing about being on UCRT?

John, snorting: Politics.

Hope shoots her husband a disapproving frown. She chooses her words carefully.

Hope: It often took . . . time for different parties to agree on whom was in charge of what. In the beginning, we were often prevented from helping by local governments that still had anti-Ment regulations. By the time they agreed to let us in, it was often too late.

Nick: That’s not a problem so much anymore. If anything, governments now no longer want to deal with Ment criminals at all without our help.

John: I’m not admitting that I’m old . . . but a lot has changed in the past twenty-five years.

Hope: Agreed.

Nick: Unity’s changed as well. How do you two feel about the NPO Program?

John, bluntly: It's a bad idea.

Hope elbows John in the ribs, then gives the camera a practiced smile.

Hope: My husband worries that public will see the success of the NPO Program as proof that Unity isn’t needed in the first place, since anyone can theoretically be trained to combat Ments.

John: Which they can be, but with much higher mortality rate than when a Ment goes up against a another Ment. The sides aren't equally armed.

Hope: I for one have always argued that the MIV/AMO division wasn’t as pragmatic as it could be. Precognitives and Telemetrists like myself would frequently serve better as strategists collecting information, while people with a Pollard Score of 5 are resistant enough to face down most Ments. UCRT members might always need to be Ments given the psychic strength of those they face, but Unity at large could benefit from . . .

John: Honey, Nick gets it.

Hope: Yes. Well. It’s why I recommended Adsila hire personnel who shared my sentiments.

Nick, groaning: Thanks for that by the way.

Hope: Kim is an excellent strategist, and one of the most skilled combatants I’ve ever witnessed.

Nick: I’m just saying, I figured that my mom would've stopped picking out my babysitter after I turned twenty.

Hope: I didn’t hire you a babysitter. Adsila asked for a recommendation, and I gave Kim’s name.

Nick, sarcastically: Again, thanks for that. Let’s move onto more pleasant topics than A-Is-for-Asshole Kim.

Hope: Language. You’re on air.

Nick, automatically: Yes, ma’am.

Nick shuffles through the cards in his hands before grinning impishly.

Nick: You know, I think that the audience deserves to hear the story of your first unofficial date.

John groans. Hope laughs.

Hope: John tried to be romantic. He planned a surprise picnic.

John: Except we were stationed in a warzone.

Hope: He had to improvise with rations from the canteen, so he . . .

Nick, in a manner of one having heard this story a hundred times: He shaped the spam into little pink hearts and jabbed them through with toothpicks.

John, defensively: The toothpicks were supposed represent arrows.

Hope kisses his cheek.

Hope: I, for one, thought they were adorable.

John: She told the whole troop about it.

Hope: I only told Giselle.

John: Who then told the rest of our troop. It was traumatic.

Hope, chuckling: They called him “Sir Spamalot” for the rest of deployment.

Nick: Mom, are you familiar with the term “himbo”?

Hope: I’m more surprised that you’re familiar with it. I didn’t realize that the word was still in use.

Nick: In your expert opinion, does Dad fit the definition?

Hope: Oh, most definitely. You and your father both, if I’m being truthful.

John: . . .

Nick: . . .

John: Should we try to argue?

Nick, sighing theatrically: It’d probably be futile. I’m a little hurt, though.

Hope: You’re both intelligent, but impulsive enough that that doesn’t mean much. Need I remind of you of our first family vacation to Paris?

Nick: I was only five!

Hope: An excuse which doesn’t extend to your father. You two got us kicked out of the Louvre! A place that I’d dreamed of visiting since I was a girl!

John, trying not to laugh: All we did was take our shirts off.

Hope: That is not how you respectfully pose beside the Venus de Milo.

Despite her harsh tone, her lips quirk in a barely-repressed smile.

John: The photo was worth it. Which you snapped, might I remind you.

Hope groans.

Hope: Your father was a bad influence who turned me into one of “those” Americans.

Nick: I don’t think we’ll ever be able to fully understand why you married him, Mom.

Hope: He makes me laugh. More than anyone I’ve ever met.

She smiles at John fondly. He takes her hand and squeezes it.

Hope: It’s why I proposed.

John: More like informed.

Hope: Firmly requested.

Nick: The fact that you asked him to marry you is one of life’s greatest mysteries.

John: I planned on asking!

Hope: He was so nervous in the month after buying a ring, that I eventually realized what was going on. I figured that either I needed to be the one to pop the question, or he’d stress himself into a heart attack.

John: She looked at me over a bowl of spaghetti, said “Let’s get married next July,” and that was that.

Hope, to John: You stressed too much about the details. I didn’t to be watching the sun set over Rome's skyline—I just needed you.

Nick: So, if Mom fell for your . . . himbo-ness . . . what made you fall for her?

John, gesturing to his wife in isn't-it-obvious fashion: Your mother is hot.

Nick: Gross.

John smirks as Hope smacks his arm.

John: Other than the fact I find her drop-dead gorgeous? I think I fell in love with her the day Murph shared that video.

Hope groans and buries her face in her hands.

Nick: This is new intel for me. What video?

John: Your mother used to participate in flash mobs.

Nick blinks.

Nick: Excuse me?

John: Flash mobs. I don’t think they’re as popular anymore, but back when we were your age, a big fad was to—

Nick: I know what a flash mob is. What I’m not computing is your claim that Mom participated.

John: I wouldn’t have believed it either until Murph forward me the Youtube video. You know how your mother plays the oboe, right? She was part of this orchestral group that staged flash mobs all over NYC. Reactions to flash mobs are always great, but the shock on people’s faces when this nineteen-year-old goth girl in a black Alien Sex Fiend tee-shirt whipped out an oboe and started dancing around to, what was the song—

At this point, John is laughing too hard to continue.

Hope, sighing: We used to play Do-Re-Mi from The Sound of Music.

John, wiping away a tear of mirth: I was emailed the video proof of her past about a month after we met. And that’s when I realized that she was the woman that I was going to marry.

Hope rolls her eyes but looks pleased.

Nick: How did I not know about this?

John: Your mom swore me to secrecy. But I figure if she were going to divorce me, it would’ve already happened after I got us kicked out of the Louvre.

Nick: Honestly, your marriage always seemed rock-solid to me. Has there been any setbacks that I don't know about?

Hope: There was a learning curve.

John: Our first Halloween together was . . .

Hope: Rough.

John: Rocky.

Nick: Do tell.

John: We got invited to my buddy’s party, and were supposed to dress in a couple’s costume. I wanted to go as Bob Ross and a Tree . . .

Hope: He wanted me to be the tree.

John: And she wanted to go as Jack Skellington and Susy.

Hope: Sally.

John: Right. It was a stupid argument.

Hope: But it was our first after getting married. We hadn’t lived together before that, and we were both adjusting to suddenly cohabitating with another person. 

John: Exactly. She kept trying to diplomat me—

Hope: And he kept claiming that his idea was better. Even though he wanted me to dress as a tree.

Nick: Who won?

Hope and John smile at each other.

John: We hadn’t talked to each other the entire day leading up to the party.

Hope: Not true. I sent you a text, asking if you still planned to attend. Remember?

John: That’s texting, not talking.

Hope: The point is, we’d both RSVP’d to the party, but hadn’t decided on a joint costume. Which meant, since it was the day of Halloween, it was too late to order a decent suit.

John: We drove separately to the party, with Hope leaving from her friend’s house.

Hope: And when I got there, I saw John.

She chuckles.

Hope: He’d cut out bones from printer paper and glued them to a black sweatshirt, with total disregard for actual anatomy. It was the worst costume that I’d ever seen.

John, to Hope: Yours was no better! She’d stapled leaves onto a tank top and worn brown leggings. She looked like a castaway.

Hope: I was supposed to be a tree.

They smile at each other.

Hope: The next year, we went as Jack Skellington and Sally.

John: And the year after that, Bob Ross and a tree.

Hope: But I made him be the tree.

Nick: That's the story behind the photograph of you as a pregnant Bob Ross? I just thought your couples’ outfit didn’t quite hit home that year.

John: You were her happy little mountain!

John and Hope exchange high-fives. Nick cringes.

Nick: Guys, please. I’m working here.

Hope: Young man, given the way that you dress for Halloween, you’ve lost the right to cry "shame."

Nick: Annnnd this sounds like a great time for a slightly new topic! Did you both always plan on having two kids?

John: Well, the Stork wouldn’t do product exchanges.

Hope: John!

Nick: I mean, fair. You should’ve kept the receipt after I was born.

John: That's what I said, but your mother seemed to think that you were in working order.

Hope rolls her eyes.

Hope: Both you and your sibling were planned. We both agreed that two was the perfect number.

Nick: I don’t remember everything given how young I was, but what were things like after Button was born? Did you realize that they were mind blind right away?

John: No.

He blows out a breath of air.

John: We thought that Button was just . . . a special type of Ment. Like you.

Nick: When did you realize that they weren’t a Ment?

John: When they were a toddler and started trying to lie. A Ment would’ve been able to stop projecting their thoughts, and an early-administered Pollard Test confirmed what we’d begun to suspect.

Nick: How did you take the news?

John: I don’t think we did “take” it. Both of us hoped that maybe this would be temporary, or that your sibling would eventually develop powers.

Hope: Neither of us realized what their Zero fully meant until Alan Chung.

Nick: On a related note, what was it like overhearing Button as a baby?

Hope: Honestly? It was delightful. When Button was an infant, I never had to guess what they wanted in order to make them stop crying in the middle of the night—they visualized their needs. Every time they encountered something new and got excited, our whole family shared in that joy of discovery.

Nick hesitates before asking his next question. Hope reaches into her purse and pulls out a gold tube of red lipstick, which she tidily reapplies before nodding at her son reassuringly.

Hope: Go ahead.

Nick: So . . . it wasn’t always difficult for you to be around Button?

Hope: Not until they became verbal, and reached the age where they realized that they were different and wanted privacy. It's agonizing, overhearing all of your child’s pain and being completely unable to fix it.

Nick: Did the two of you ever wish that Button were “normal”?

John begins to answer, but Hope stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He nods, accepting that this question is hers to answer.

Hope: I wish that I had been born normal so that I had never endangered my baby. And I wish that Button’s life was easier, and that they weren’t constantly in danger. I will never stop wishing those things.

John and Nick stay silent. Hope takes a deep breath before continuing.

Hope: I’m proud of my child, and I appreciate whom they’ve become. They’re someone that takes risks and tries to prove themself, and who seeks out a job where they can protect others. Even if I selfishly wish that they’d play things safer, I’m proud of them.

John: We both just want Button to be safe.

Hope: If Button hadn’t been born mind blind, then they might be a different person. And I have never wished my child to be anyone but whom they are, even during the years when my mind couldn’t handle constantly overhearing their thoughts.

Nick: I know that you want to see them again, Mom. But are you sure that getting a BRS is the right call?

Hope: There’s very little that I wouldn’t do to be able to hug my child again.

Nick, heatedly: I told you, Dad or I can shield their mind! You don’t need to cripple yourself in order—

John: Nick.

Nick: I know. Sorry.

Nick looks down dejectedly at the remaining question cards in his hands.

Nick: Remember how you guys used to always go on about how “we’re an honest family”? Mom, you never told anyone what you were going through. Why?

Hope flinches.

Hope: I couldn’t. How could I reveal that my own child made me want to run away? Parents joke about their junior high students, but with Button, I—

She chokes up, momentarily unable to continue.

John: I should’ve realized what was going on. I thought that being on UCRT was taking its toll; you were never trained to be a soldier. It’s why I encouraged you to resign.

Hope: The year leading up to what happened, missions away were the only thing that kept me going. I could handle hearing Button’s thoughts after getting back, but in about a week after returning home, it became hard to block out again. The way I handled things didn’t make things easier—Button sensed me withdrawing, and that only caused them more pain.

John: Which in turn made things harder for you.

Hope: It was a cruel cycle. I felt trapped. Like I’d failed as a mother.

Her fists clench in her lap.

Hope: I did fail as a mother.

Nick: Hey, now. Even if we’re sticking with this metaphor, you failed one test. Your grade as a parent is still pretty high in my books. Honor roll, even.

Hope, shaking her head: I almost killed my own child trying to force them out of my mind. If I’d explained the reason that I was requesting more out-of-state missions, if I’d admitted how I was feeling . . .

John: You couldn’t even admit it to yourself.

Hope: I should’ve handled it better.

John: We both should’ve. Nick, you know how much—

John stops, his eyes darting towards the camera as if just recalling its presence.

John, gruffly: Your mother and I couldn’t have gotten through that year without you.

Nick, following John’s cue and looking directly into the camera lens: I’m awesome. What can I say? Was I always this perfect? Of course, just ask my parents.

Hope and John exchange a look and then chuckle. It’s an unsteady, tentative laugh, still raw with lingering emotions, but a laugh all the same.

John: Perfect? Really? That’s the adjective you’re going with?

Nick, flexing: Yup. Unless you have evidence otherwise.

Hope and John, simultaneously: The band.

Nick: What?

John: That noise you and your friends called music that used to come from the garage.

Hope: ‘Ment Hell Ice Slum,” you called yourselves.

John: I was this close to giving you up for adoption.

Hope: Thank God that Button was the one with a Zero and not you. I would’ve snapped much sooner had I been forced to listen to your ‘compositions’ running through my brain all day.

John and Nick stare at her, wide-eyed. Their expressions are unilaterally horrified.

Hope: It’s true.

Nick, still recovering: Uh, and on that note, it’s time to end our interview. Mom and Dad, thanks for joining me on the show.

The camera turns dark as, offstage, someone with a dark sense of humor similar to Hope’s snickers.