Riker
“It is with a sense of great honor and admiration that I, and the whole of the United Republic of Earth, release you from your sworn service. You have performed above and beyond what is asked of any officer and your sacrifices will forever be remembered. Not only by those that are here now, but by those yet to be born.” The tail end of the speech was nice, but I only heard it. It was too much to listen. I accepted the various awards as well as any other decommissioned Raptor pilot could, with the patience of a daily chore. Then lingered in the garden of the hospital to shake hands and bid farewells.
I listened to the birds chirping, the slow trickle of water through the rocks of the different water features, all under the umbrella of a pristine and immaculate blue sky. After some time, the modest stage and lectern was taken down and I was alone. With no clear place to go, and no tasking to be accomplished. Sitting on a nearby polymer bench I waited for direction to strike me. Minutes passed in the sun and memories came.
The feeling of coarse, crusted pages of an antique paperback tingled in my fingers. My father had gifted it to me when I had joined up, The Old Man and the Sea. I had turned through it time and time again, but more so after he had passed, until the binding broke. It now sat in a vacuum-sealed box in a bare apartment I never visited.
I shifted on the bench as the breeze came up a bit, the freshest of my scars burned with the movement. A total removal was hardly-ever performed. The Doctor had informed me I was only the third in history, and the second to survive. With that precedent, the future was an opaque cloud that I was about to punch into. A steady crunching sound interrupted my reflection as a pair of feet carried their owner over the white gravel behind me. Another well-wisher? I made to stand.
“No, no, no, you don’t stand for me. I stand for you my dear,” the owner of the feet with the voice of jovial grandfather sat down beside me. We stared across the reflecting pool, breathing in the smell of freshly flash-grown flower. I waited for him to start.
“Is this the end?” he leaned back looking me and my perfect posture over as if I was ready for the museum. I didn’t say anything, but it didn’t stop him, “they shan’t let you fly again. You must know that.”
I kept my eyes on the subtle ripples of the water, bounding and rebounding, off the small stone walls of the pool, “I do. But why, would the Deputy Minister of State Security care? Why are you here?”
The white teeth of the man’s smile matched his well-kempt hair and modest charcoal suit, with ascot to match. “That’s the riddle, isn’t it? Why am I here? Speaking to someone who’s doubting the rest of their existence. A classic internal clash to find a sense of purpose! Such a wonderful struggle of the mind!” The only word to describe him was ‘giddy.’ Irritated, I was running out of patience.
“To answer your question, I am here for you my dear. As I am sure you’re aware, the rebuilding efforts here in CON 1 are well underway. And with them a lot of new opportunities are coming to life, sprouting in the fertile soil that we have laid down.” I turned my head slightly, and he knew I was listening.
“I need you to teach. I need you to raise up the best and brightest of the first peacetime generation and make them as close to what you were as you can. Without all the parlor tricks. I’m talking about natural refinement. We will make something that when it blossoms will be a shining beacon of our new age.”
We sat in silence for several moments as his words floated away on the wind. I was about to respond but the Deputy Minister cut me off, “Think about it, my dear. I’ll have a brief sent to your apartment, the one you have just across the river? Contact my office if you find yourself, interested.” Standing abruptly, he strode away down through the garden and toward the river walk. Two tall men in dark suits joined him from outside the garden entrance. I watched until they disappeared.
My name is Samantha Riker, and that was the day I became a teacher.
