Gabriel Lamarque rubbed a hand over his nose. “Good memory. Yes, it’s true that Jellicoe invented the original wyvern prototype, and equally true that Barricader intelligence has eyes on an upcoming exhibition of his new product line, but arms dealers are a dime a dozen in the UCC. We can’t make assumptions, you understand.”
“With respect, sir,” said Pru, “that’s just fancy language for ‘yeah, we totally know it’s this bitch, but our PR people are making us cover our asses.’”
A laugh startled out of him. “You really are Sophie’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Guess I am.” Pru scuffed a foot along the leg of her seat. “So you and Mama were war buddies back in the day, huh?”
“We were.” Lamarque’s expression remained clear, but he didn’t offer up any further information. Hero of the Partition Wars he might be, but Pru kind of figured he had to have some politician-slickness to him too. It all seemed part and parcel with how Lamarque managed the things he knew against the things he had to do: the quiet, benign way he shuttered on some subjects while opening up like a sun over the clouds on others.
“Did you keep in touch at all, after?” Pru pressed, then bit her tongue. What a stupid question. Mama would have said something, surely.
“Not really, I’m afraid.” He offered another smile, almost compulsive. “People do drift apart. My fault, probably.”
The intercom on the oak desk buzzed. “Miss Sophie Wu to see you, sir.”
“Send her in.”
The sliding door to the Head Representative’s office rumbled aside. The woman waiting at the entrance wasted no time sidling in. Her heels—poking out from a pair of pinstriped men’s trousers—clicked languidly across the office. Dark eyes narrowed over a pursed scarlet mouth that looked redder still for the winks of silver threading her pitch-black chignon. “Prometheus,” she drawled, husky voiced. “What a way to reunite, eh?”
Gabriel Lamarque rose to his feet, the very picture of charm as he buttoned his jacket. “No need to call me names, Sophie.”
“You’re my elected representative in a hard-won democracy, and I’ll call you anything I like,” said Sophie’s mother, sounding unimpressed, and possibly bored.
“Mama!” squeaked Pru.
Lamarque waved it off. “It’s all right.”
“All right indeed,” said Mama. She stopped just short of the Head Representative, looking him up and down. “Office life suits you, Prometheus. Wouldn’t have guessed.”
Opacity smoothed over his expression, making the man over in marble. He might have been a statue of some ancient historical figure, rather than the affably grinning flesh-and-blood creature who’d occupied the office moments before. “We all grow up at some point.”
Mama’s chin went up, vowels wide and mocking as she spoke. “And didn’t you just.”
Lamarque’s clean-shaven, square-cut jaw tensed, a motion reminiscent of Alex in his more frustrated moments. The Head Representative glanced toward Pru. “Your daughter tells me you know the basics of the Coalition’s work-study offer, but want some blanks filled in.”
“Certainly, I do,” said Mama cheerfully. “And lucky for you, I know just where to start, so I won’t waste your time.” Her feet shifted slightly, fists curling. Then, before anyone could utter another word, Pru’s mother punched the leader of the Barricade Coalition clean across his celebrated jawline.
* * *
Metafeed Books: War Week Special
“Spotlight on Sophie ‘Scheherazade’ Wu”
by Maxwell Vandermeer
This week, nearly two full decades ago, saw today’s founding Barricaders and the Incorporated forces sign the formal peace treaty that finally declared an official end to the long and bloody Partition Wars. To celebrate this landmark anniversary, Metafeed Books sits down with artists who played a part in the war effort—from avant-garde documentarian Isobel Tanaka, to guerrilla theater actor turned alleged spy Aaron Eddington, whose family in peacetime went on to found the famous Eddington Heights Academy. However, a series on Partition War artists would be remiss not to kick things off with Sophie Wu—or, as she’s better known in some circles, Scheherazade.
Is it true you got that nickname from an Incorporated Propagandist’s office?
Depends on who’s asking! Here, I’ll rephrase your question for you: Did I get a nickname, of any kind, while working in an Incorporated Propagandist’s office? To wit, did I ever work in the pocket of the enemy?
Did you?
[laughs] I love the folks at Metafeed. You don’t scare from the tough questions!
Of course not! So, have it out, Scheherazade, did you cut your teeth on storytelling in the lion’s den?
Hell of a way to put it. Sure, like most kids born in UCC-controlled territory, I had my run-ins with the Executive General’s people. I was educated, spoke the right kind of English, and could manage a keyboard, so they stuck me in the Office of the Propagandist for a while there, which was fine and dandy until—
Gabriel Lamarque got his hands on you?
And the rest is history.
And that’s it? Come on!
Look, it was pretty simple. I wanted to create wireless plays and visual novels and all those inconveniently freewheeling, imaginative things that UCC Inc. frowns on. So I fought for it.
And won.
Sure!
Or are you the brand of Barricader that isn’t satisfied with the Coalition as it stands? Would you spread Barricader values across the rest of the continent, if you could?
[laughs] A bit imperialistic, isn’t that? Emilia Rosenbaum may be a sanctimonious little shit—and yes, you can quote me on that—but she’s right about some things. The people who joined up with UCC Inc. had their reasons for Incorporating. Are some of them shitty reasons? Sure. But it’s their own reason, their own choice. And at the end of the day, free choice is supposedly what we, the enlightened citizens of the venerable Head Representative Lamarque’s government, are all about.
Sophie Wu’s latest wireless drama series, Hunting Down Dragons & Other Fairytales for the Age of Nostalgia, drops this Friday. Subscribe right here at Metafeed, and don’t forget to tune in next week for an exclusive interview with Aaron Eddington: actor, artist, educator, and spy!
* * *
“WHAT’S GOING ON IN there?”
Alex dipped into view, interrupting Pru’s half-hearted fantasy of merging with the elegant little couch outside the Head Representative’s office. As it was, she’d sunk so low into the cushions, she probably looked like she was trying to hide between them. Not a bad idea, all things considered.