MB Interview: Disaster Cousins (Liz Version) (Patreon)

Warning: Contains Light Spoilers for Future Chapters in Mind Blind

Button is referred to as "Ellery." Usually I can get around using a first name in these interviews, but Caleb's overentitled sense of closeness required a proper first name in order to portray.

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A spotlight shines on Nicholas Wiseman, his black attire more suitable for a funeral than the host of a talk show. For the first time since these interviews began, he isn’t smiling—in fact, like his clothing, his expression would also be more apropos at a cemetery.

Nick: Today, I’m interviewing two members of the international terrorist organization, Vengeance. Please be warned, the opinions expressed by these amoral individuals may be difficult to hear, and it’s only because this interview occurs in a fictional metaverse that I refrain from arresting them.

Liz and Caleb enter. Liz looks cocky as usual, strutting onstage with her hair styled in a sleek blowout. Caleb trails behind her like a lost puppy, staring at the ground and with his round cheeks stained red with embarrassment over Nick’s insulting introduction.

They take the two seats across from Nick, who makes no effort to veil his hostility.

Nick: I won’t lie. It’s in no way a pleasure to have you two on my show.

Liz smirks at him. Caleb shrugs, still not making eye contact.

Caleb: That’s, um, fair.

Nick: Let’s start this interview by making sure that the audience knows what kind of people they’re listening to. Go on. Tell the audience your views on Ments.

Sounding as if she’s memorized the lines, Liz launches into what could well be one of Vengeance’s recruitment speeches (penned by Reese, of course).

Liz: Ments are the result of a dangerous genetic abnormality which, instead of studying to understand why it occurs, modern society has instead decided to worship as a trait akin to demigod-dom. This unwise, primitive sense of reverence has left the vast majority of humans feeling powerless, and also resulted in the proliferation of abuses by those in possession of unbalanced brains. Normal people, good people, need to stop sitting on our hands and take back—

Nick: Sorry, but my ears can only bleed so much. Caleb, your opinion on Ments?

Caleb fidgets, his hands pulling at his pant leg.

Caleb: I mean, you can’t really argue that most Ments think they’re better than us. That you think you’re better than me.

Nick: Because you’re a terrorist.

Caleb: But if we were to, umm, get in a fight, you would win, right? Because I don’t have powers.

Liz: You don’t have a genetic defect. A brain that invades the privacy of others isn’t a power—it’s a corrupting perversion.

Caleb: But still, Justice would win in a fight.

Nick: I don’t use my telepathy or telekinesis to fight. I’ve been trained to apprehend those who abuse their psychic agility.

Liz glares at him challengingly.

Liz: Don’t you? Never?

Caleb: Even if you don’t “abuse your psychic agility,” you just admitted that there’s a lot of Ments who do abuse it. And that’s a bad thing. Uhm, what Vengeance wants is like banning guns, right? Wouldn’t the world be better if no one could shoot at each other?

Liz: For fu—for god’s sake, Caleb. How many times do we need to go over this? Gun rights are completely different. Weapons are an equalizer that anyone can learn to use. Ments, however, are born more dangerous.

Caleb, to Liz: You don’t like guns either.

Liz: I dislike using guns because a Ment could turn it against me. A Ment could make me shoot myself if I dropped my guard. Humans created weapons so that the person with the biggest fists or animal with bigger teeth didn’t automatically win every fight. Ments have the most dangerous fangs yet, and yet the United Nations prevents governments from implementing laws to—

Nick: Redirecting from the deranged political rant, which really isn’t good enough to get you elected. Summarizing your answers, you’re both afraid of Ments.

Caleb: Yes.

Liz: No. I’m afraid of a society which allows Ments to run around unchecked. I’m afraid that Ments are becoming the ruling class, like with North Korea before the Reunification. I’m afraid of the world’s growing complacency that allows—

Nick, taunting: Ments are the big scary saber tooth tigers, and cavewoman Liz is cowering in her cave.

Caleb, tentatively: But you calling Liz a cavewoman kinda backs up her point? You obviously think of yourself as some sort of superior and more evolved human.

Liz: Exactly!

Nick, rolling eyes: Only compared to Liz. Who, might I remind you, compared all Ments to fanged predators not thirty seconds ago.

Caleb: Unity always makes it seem like Lo-Pos don’t have a chance against Ments. If you, as Justice, don’t think of yourself is better and more capable, then why isn’t the message being sent by the organization that you work for? Why are there only Ments on UCRT, and why does Unity have jurisdiction over any local case involving a Ment criminal? How do you see Ments, if not superior?

Caleb falls silent as if embarrassed he spoke so much. Meanwhile, Nick looks surprised that Caleb has actually asked his opinion, and some of the venom leaves his tone as he replies.

Nick: Psychic agility is a skill like any other. It’s no difference than physical agility or intelligence.

Liz: Except a smart gymnast can’t kill someone with a look like Fortitude, or take over someone’s mind like a strong telepath. You forget—we actually know what you’re capable of, “Justice.”

Nick, deliberately ignoring the last accusation: I mean, a “smart gymnast who kills people” is just another way of saying “ninja.” And for every person who becomes a ninja and this day and age, there’s six hundred more who decide to take up the balance beam or join a cheerleading squad instead. Ments are just people—some may use their talents in illegal ways, sure, but that’s why Unity exists. To stop those that do, and make sure that local law enforcement isn’t going up against an unfair advantage.

Nick cracks a smile, although it quickly disappears.

Nick: We send ninjas to fight ninjas.

Liz: Which is Unity more concerned about: actually making sure that these “renegade” Ments do no harm, or spreading propaganda so that normal people fail to distinguish the difference between, say, gun violence and the uniquely intimate savagery of brainwashing.

Caleb: “Uniquely intimate savagery” . . . that’s what Reese calls it.

Nick, to Caleb: You don’t seem as much of a true believer as your cousin. Do you hate all Ments as well, or are you just tagging along for the ride?

Caleb, defensively: I go where I want.

Liz rolls her eyes at Caleb’s bold declaration, calling her cousin’s statement of independence into question.

Nick: If you’re a leader, Caleb, were you the one who approached Liz about wanting to join Vengeance? She didn’t recruit you?

Caleb: Er, no, he . . . I guess you can say that she recruited me. But only ‘cause I wanted to be recruited!

Nick: How long have you been a member of Vengeance?

Caleb: Around three months. I’d, er, dropped out of college and hadn’t told anyone in our family other than Liz. Then she told me that she was planning something big, but that the group she was—

Liz clears her throat over-loudly, cutting off Caleb’s words.

Nick: That’s still classified intel? Fine. Liz, what about you? How long have you been a festering boil—I mean, a member of Vengeance?

Liz: I joined Vengeance before Caleb.

Nick: You’ve been a pit stain on humanity a year? Two years?

Liz, repeating with insistence and without added specificity: I joined Vengeance before Caleb.

Nick: And recruited your cousin to crime.

He shoots Caleb a glare that almost borders on pitying before redirecting the full force of his loathing back at Liz.

Nick: Who recruited you?

Liz: Reese.

Nick: And you knew Reese from . . .

Liz folds her arms and refuses to answer.

Nick: More classified intel, I’m guessing. Let’s try a new angle: Liz, what are your true thoughts on Reese? They must have some hell of a sway over you, if you were willing to become a murder hobo for their sake.

Caleb snickers at Nick’s terminology, but is quickly silenced by Liz’s glare.

Liz: I’ve never been accused of murder, nor have I ever been homeless. And while I don’t always comprehend Reese’s decisions, but somehow their plans always come to fruition. Reese sees the world as it truly is, a cesspool of inequality, and they aim to raise us from the muck. They’re a genius.

Nick, under his breath: Not that there’s much competition for that title within your organization.

Liz: I have a dual Bachelor’s of Science in Biology and Medical Laboratory Sciences, and was working at one of the premier medtech companies in the world while saving up for a PhD program. Your elitist attitude may label me a “cavewoman,” Justice, but I am not unintelligent.

Caleb: Liz graduated salutatorian of her high school!

Liz flinches at Caleb’s supportive tone.

Nick: Then this henchman jig isn’t new—Liz’s used to being in second place. Let me guess: the valedictorian was a Ment.

Caleb, looking shocked: How’d you guess? My older brother and Liz were in the same class, so—

Liz: None of this is relevant.

Nick: I think it’s super relevant. The relevant-est. I think that you have a complex resulting from only ever being number two, when in reality GPA has nothing to do with psychic agility.

Liz: You know nothing.

Nick: I’m not even going for the John Snow joke—the fruit’s too low hanging. I know enough to confidentially conclude that your hatred of Ments has less to do about wanting to make the world a better place and more about your inner feelings of inadequacy. I believe the official psychiatric term is “piss baby.” Be honest: if you could switch friends with your valedictorian Ment cousin, would you?

Caleb leans forward, biting his lower lip and looking uncertain over Liz’s answer.

Liz, scoffing: That’s ridiculous.

Caleb: Well, I would.

Caleb ignores Liz’s appalled scowl. He addresses Nick.

Caleb: Everyone in our family is a Ment, except for Liz and me. I don’t think that any of them even knew that Liz was the salutatorian—all they cared about was Jonathan’s prospects. He’s an Eight, and graduating top of his class meant he could have any position he wanted.

Caleb looks down at his feet, adding in a quieter voice:

Caleb: My parents didn’t even remember my graduation. Jon had just got admitted into Aeon after getting his associates degree, so the whole family took him out for a celebratory dinner instead of seeing me get my diploma.

He shrugs self-deprecatingly.

Caleb: Not that my being on honor roll was all that impressive. Besides, it was only high school. Everyone graduates from high school.

Nick: Hold up. Your brother is a member of Unity?

Caleb: Not any more. He dropped out of the AMO program after taking a laser to the knee, and ended up being hired by a Ment-only private security firm.

Nick, to Liz: Did you attend Caleb’s high school graduation?

Liz, rolling her eyes: What Caleb fails to leave out is that he was so busy feeling sorry for himself, he expected everyone to magically learn the date instead of directly telling them. Don’t get me wrong: our so-called “family” is still a casebook studies for why Ments shouldn’t be permitted to breed—there’s something broken in their brains, that makes them see their normal offspring as subpar.

She meets Nicks eyes and grins mockingly.

Liz: Your own sibling would probably agree with me.

Nick: . . .

Nick: . . .

Nick: Don’t talk about my family.

Caleb clears his throat to break the stare-off between the two.

Caleb: Well, ah, no one seemed to care about my graduation, and I didn’t want them to accuse me of trying to detract from Jon’s hiring.

Liz: Which my former aunt probably would’ve done.

Nick: “Former” aunt? Did you murder all your relatives or something? Dump their bodies into Lake Michigan?

Although asked in a semi-joking tone, Nick appears genuinely concerned over what Liz’s answer might be.

Liz: I disowned my family.

Caleb: Except for me!

Liz, sighing heavily: Except for Caleb.

Nick: Caleb, do you still talk your parents? Do they know you joined a terrorist cell?

Caleb: They think I’m still at college. At least, they still transfer my tuition money into my account. And they usually call on my birthday.

Nick: Usually?

Caleb, shrugging: Sometimes they get busy and forget. Like when Jon invited everyone to a family vacation at his summer house in Martha’s Vineyard.

Liz, bitterly: Invited everyone but us.

Nick: Because you’re Norms? Or because you’re bigots?

Caleb looks down. Liz crosses her arms.

Liz: To answer your earlier question, no. No, I haven’t killed any of my renounced relatives, or behaved like a badly-written cliché and dumped their bodies in a lake. I’m not even from Illinois.

Nick: You’re from New York, if I remember correctly.

Liz: Staten Island.

Nick’s expression darkens even further, and his fists clench in his lap.

Nick: But you lived in Vancouver for a few years. Is that correct?

Liz: I was relocated there by the company I was working for at the time.

Nick: Why did you leave the city and come back to the States? The timing is . . . suspicious.

Liz: Because I left shortly after the bombing? As Reese already told your sibling, I had nothing to do with the Vancouver explosion. I disagree with it, in fact. In order to establish lasting change, Vengeance needs to do more than do temporary damage. We need to create a world where all people are equal. A war only lasts so long as people are different sides. We need to make Ments realize that their abilities are dangerous, and that the freedom they’ve been given is unreasonable, and we need for them too—

Nick: Are all terrorists this long-winded, or is it just you and Reese? Also, people were killed in the Vancouver bombing. Death isn’t “temporary damage.”

Nick leans forward and repeats his earlier question with slow intensity.

Nick: Why did you leave Vancouver?

Liz: Because the project I was working on got shut down. By Unity.

Nick: You decided to switch your career to murder and mayhem because of a cancelled science experiment?

Liz: I joined Vengeance because Unity overstepped its bounds. Again. Your organization is intent on maintaining the growing power divide between Ments and Norms, and will do everything its power to suppress anything capable of creating a better future.

Nick: Unity cares about protecting Ment rights. It’s only in the past three decades that we’ve even been treated like regular humans.

Liz: You’re not regular humans. Unity is intent on making sure you’re never given the choice to be one, either.

Nick: Oh, and Vengeance would give us a goddamn choice? You assholes stole my body in order to . . .

Nick forces himself to take a deep breath and relaxes into his seat, although his fists remain clenched.

Nick: New question. Liz, you said that you disowned your family—everyone except Caleb. Is there a lot of cousinly affection between you two?

Caleb: Liz’s always . . .

He hesitates, unable to truthfully say that “Liz has always had my back” or “Liz has always been there for me when things were hard.”

Caleb: Liz’s always kept in touch. When she learned that I, uh, quit college, she didn’t judge. She only asked if I wanted a new job.

Liz: Caleb’s smart. And useful.

She looks away, a hint of actual, genuine vulnerability in her brown eyes.

Liz: He’s all the family that I have.

Nick doesn’t press the issue. He looks more tired than angry at this point, and ready to be done with the whole interview.

Nick: Speaking of families, I need to ask. Caleb, what’s with your fascination over Button?

Caleb, defensively: You have fans. Your parents have fans. Why shouldn’t your sibling have fans as well?

Nick: Because they’re not a public figure. I won’t disagree with you that they deserve fans, but again: not a public figure.

Caleb gives Nick a tentative smile.

Caleb: They do deserve fans though, right? They’re pretty amazing.

Nick: You haven’t explained why you latched onto them, though. When did you first learn about Button?

Caleb: Um, back when I was in high school. I watched the news when your parents—the first Hope and Justice—announced that they were retiring from UCRT.

Liz: I’d just started my freshman year of college, and all of a sudden Caleb called me up, excited and rambling on about a “kindred spirit.”

Caleb: In their press statement, Hope and Justice talked a lot about their oldest child. How Nicholas Wiseman was preparing to one day join the organization which they lead, and that Chicago would be in good hands with the new generation.

Nick: I was there.

Caleb meets Nick’s eyes, somewhat combatively.

Caleb: Well, they never mentioned Ellery. Not once, during the entire time. The Norm kid wasn’t important enough to mention.

Nick: Our family situation was complicated.

Caleb: I didn’t even know that Hope and Justice had two kids until I stumbled upon the information on a Podium thread. I found out that Ellery was my age, still in high school, and your parents had just up and abandoned them.

Nick: Like I said, the situation was complicated.

He sighs.

Nick: It’s still complicated.

Caleb: Ellery and I share a lot in common. Parents that don’t care about us, an older brother who’s “the talented one”—I’d never felt that kind of connection with someone before. Not even Liz, because she was willing to just write off the rest of our family. But Ellery . . . Ellery was like me. Ellery stayed.

Nick: You don’t have a “connection” with my sibling, not a real one.

His tone gentles, as if talking to a child.

Nick: Look, Caleb, despite my better judgement . . . I can’t completely hate you. Your cousin is a toad and deserves to die in a ditch. But you’re different. And you need to recognize that any bond you have with Button is just in your head. You’re a fanboy, not their friend.

Caleb: Oh, I know that I’m just a fan! It’s not like I’m camping outside their house and breaking into their bedroom to see what books they’re reading.

Caleb laughs awkwardly, as if the thought of doing just that may have actually occurred to him. Nick winces.

Caleb: I know I’m a fan, but I also know we’d definitely become close friends if Ellery ever got to know me. We have too much in common not to connect.

Nick, patiently: Caleb, you don’t actually know Button.

Caleb: But I know everything about them.

Nick, patience fraying: No, you don’t.

Liz: You think I haven’t had this conversation with him before? But he’s happy learning everything he can about your sibling, and it’s not like he’s hurting anyone by following them on social media.

Nick: Not yet, but he has sucky role models when it comes to appropriate behavior.

Nick looks at Caleb and sighs.

Nick: Just . . . make some real friends, dude. Go online to discuss common hobbies with people. Volunteer at an animal shelter or something. Befriend people that actually talk back to you. Get therapy, and stay away from my sibling.

Caleb: I’m part of a Save Ellery chatgroup on Podium.

Nick chokes.

Nick: Save Ellery from What?

Caleb: You and your parents.

Liz smirks at Nick’s groan.

Nick: I keep forgetting that you’re part of Vengeance and thus messed up. Seriously, get a therapist before you end up like your cousin.

Liz’s smirk fades.

Liz: Are there any more questions?

Nick: Just one. You two beat Reese out in a popularity poll for this interview. How does that make you feel?

Caleb: We beat Reese?!

Liz: Most likely, voters were intimidated by Reese. Plus, Ellery and I have a . . . connection.

Liz’s smirk returns.

Nick, in a low voice: Shut up.

Liz: It makes sense that I’d win over Reese if people are just interested in learning about where my feelings for Ellery may lead. But I don’t kiss and tell.

Caleb, looking both hurt and excited: You kissed Ellery?!

Nick: No, she did not. Nor does she have feelings.

Liz just keeps smirking.

Caleb: Oh. Uh, it’s kinda cool that we won over Reese then? Maybe it’s because Ellery wanted to make sure that we’d be good friends! After all, I know so much about them, it’s only fair that they learn about me.

Nick: Damnit, Caleb. Button isn’t going to be your friend. You’re a terrorist stalker.

Caleb frowns.

Caleb: But I’ve never stalked them. And for Vengeance, I’ve only ever—

Liz: Enough, Caleb. This interview is over.

Nick: Yeah, I’ve had about enough.

Nick calls out to behind the curtain.

Nick: It’s time for Liz to go back in custody!

Two armed guards with Unity insignia on their collars come to escort the two terrorists offstage. Nick holds up a hand to prevent them from taking Caleb, and they lead off Liz (who throws a taunting kiss in Nick’s direction, presumably alluding to Button).

Caleb: Uh, I should probably go with Liz.

Nick: Caleb. Real talk for a moment?

Nick waves towards the camera, and the screen goes dark. The audio, however, has not been cut.

Nick: You’re a stalker. A virtual stalker, but still a stalker. And while I appreciate you giving Button the flash drive, and for everything else you’ve done, it doesn’t change the fact that you and my sibling aren’t friends. And will probably never be friends, until you get your head on straight.

Caleb: Um, Liz doesn’t know that I helped you, does she?

Nick: Of course not. Unity respects your wishes on the matter.

There’s the sound of rustling clothes.

Nick: Take this card for a friend of mine. Sohvi’s a Ment, but she specializes in helping people.

Caleb, sounding uncertain: I don’t need help.

Nick: You do. If you’re not willing to give a Ment therapist a chance, then Sohvi can recommend someone else.

Caleb: I’m not . . . that is . . .

Nick: Unity’s recruited people in the past with . . . unusual circumstances and backstories. Given everything you did, you may actually have a future as an MIV.

Caleb: . . .

Nick: But only if that’s what you want. First, you need to get your head screwed on straight. Admiring Button is fine, but there’s a difference between being a genuine fan who respects their privacy and . . . whatever you currently are now.

Caleb, voice breaking: A superfan?

Nick: Sure. Let’s call it that. Look, take Sohvi’s card, call her up for a psych eval and a few months of regular appointments. If she gives the thumbs up, you can apply to the MIV Program, and—if you get in—I’ll make sure you get stationed at the Aeon Academy in London. It’s starting its own NPO Program. If you really think that Unity needs to change, then do it a productive way from the inside, like Zarneki and Parker.

Caleb: I can’t stay in Chicago?

Nick: Not so long as Button still lives here. But maybe don’t mention to them that I said that . . . there’s been some accusations lately that I’m overprotective. I’m, er, trying to change.

Caleb gives a soggy laugh. Although the screen is still black, it’s obvious he’s crying.

Caleb: I guess I don’t know everything about Ellery, huh?

Nick: Agreed, but what do you mean?

Caleb: Our family situations—they’re not the same at all.

There’s the sound of paper bending as Caleb accepts Sohvi’s business card.

Caleb: I’ll . . . think about what you said.