“Thank you, Tiago!” I reply to him in Atlanteo, hoping my voice sounds steady instead of breathless. “I’m excited to be here, thank you for inviting me!”
The crowd responds in wild hoots and there is a mixture of boos among the applause. Yes, I know to expect this also. This opening dialogue has been carefully orchestrated by us beforehand, to gain the maximum audience sympathy. Me using Atlanteo as an opener is very intentional.
Tiago offers me a drink, pouring a sparkling liquid into our two glasses. I take it and raise it meaningfully in a toast, before taking a careful sip. The drink is fruity and designed to ease and clear the throat.
And then come the questions. They’re wrapped in a volley of playful banter, intended to be lighthearted and not allow me to get too deep with my answers.
“So, so, so,” begins Tiago, leaning in toward me across the table with a look that manages to be both mischievous and serious. “Tell us about yourself. Who is Gwenevere or Gwen Lark? All of Imperial Atlantida wants to know!”
I take a deep breath before speaking, hearing the audience quiet down in anticipation of my answer.
“Well . . .” I say. “I’m just a very ordinary girl from Vermont, USA—that’s one of the countries on the Northern Hemisphere on Earth, in case you don’t know, which you probably don’t, or maybe you do—sorry, not sure how much of Earth geography you’ve been studying on Atlantis—anyway, I’m just a typical ‘Earthie’ who was lucky enough to Qualify for rescue. Let’s see, I’ve been placed in the Yellow Quadrant, and I suppose it fits me, with my curiosity and such. . . . I like to read and learn all kinds of things, especially ancient things, mythology and ancient cultures—such as the original Atlantis on Earth, naturally. And—and I love science and discovery and definitely all aspects of critical inquiry and scholarly analysis, so being here on Atlantis is definitely a mind-expanding experience. School was always fun, but athletics not so much, I suppose you might call me a klutz, although I’ve improved over the last year, and I actually enjoy Er-Du. . . .”
I launch into my semi-memorized answer that’s supposed to reveal glimpses of my personality and paint me in a sympathetic light. As I talk, my voice comes across weak and meandering, and honestly, the more I speak, the worse it gets. . . . Words come out of my mouth, words that are supposed to be charming and invoke sympathy, but instead they are boring, dull, really not all that good at all. . . . I sound uptight, snotty, using terms like “critical inquiry.” Did I mention deathly boring? In fact, I’m so mind-numbingly dull that I’m killing myself here. Did I really sound this bad when I practiced this answer? Good lord, it’s supposed to be a chatty media interview not an internship job application at a research facility!
The audience starts out quiet and attentive, but even now in the continuing silence I can feel the switch from initial interest to pity.
Tiago gives me about forty seconds to talk like this, but I can see the disappointment in his eyes. It’s followed by a meaningful stare as he signals me to wrap it up—which clueless me misses because I’m stumbling on my own stupid words—and so he blessedly interrupts me.
“So many accomplishments, My Imperial Lady, I only wish we had a longer show!” he says tactfully, and then switches to the next question.
“How do you like Atlantis? Is it what you expected?”
“Oh,” I say, while my gut fills with a sinking load of rocks, as I realize how awful it’s turning out—right now, this very existential hell-moment. Then I forcibly remember to smile and switch gears into the next answer . . . and begin to babble. “Yes and no—I mean, no, I didn’t expect some of it, but I certainly love everything about it! This planet, it’s truly amazing! Beautiful! You have three moons! Even your dense star-filled skies at night are worth everything—we don’t have so many stars on Earth, it is so much darker. . . .”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes! Also, you have such grand natural vistas! The scope of things, it’s just so much bigger, it seems! I looked at the city when we flew here, and Poseidon is like something from a science fiction novel! All this advanced, futuristic technology! I mean, you have hover cars!”
Tiago laughs soothingly, and reaches out to pat my wrist and then picks up his drink. “Well, yes, we do, my dear. But what is science fiction? Never mind, it will be a question for another interview. Well, we’re delighted that you like it here, but is there anything that you don’t like, maybe? Please don’t be shy and do tell!”
I blink, feeling my throat closing up with terror of my own making. I suck so badly this moment that I want to disappear. “Oh well, yes, I suppose, maybe. . . . I mean, before I say what I don’t like—which is not that much at all, really—I almost forgot to mention I really love the people here too! I mean, how could I forget? Atlanteans are so friendly, and so—human, just like us—I mean of course you’re human, what else would you be, you—you’re all wonderful! And my new in-laws, I mean, the Imperial Family of Kassiopei, have all been so gracious and welcoming, of course. . . . The only thing that’s been a little rough is the gravity . . . and also the super-bright sunlight. But otherwise, I love it, absolutely. . . .”
Somebody, for the love of God, just shoot me now, I think. Aeson, if you can read my mind, please take out one of your needle-guns and end me mercifully from backstage.
Instead, I can hear waves of titters in the audience. My expert trainers insisted I mention and thank the Imperial Family at every opportunity, but my awful attempt at Kassiopei flattery and pandering to the Atlantean audience is not going too well. The mood in the stadium is turning from pity to mockery.
“Hah!” Tiago says, attempting to rescue this wreck. “They do say our gravity makes all you Earth boys and girls a little sleepy. But at least our sunshine is bright enough to wake you up!” He makes a snoring noise and flutters his eyelids, then jerks himself awake and opens his eyes wide in pretend amazement, clowning for the audience—who eats it up, because I hear waves of laughter.
I also laugh weakly and nod. “Exactly! Though I’m no longer as sleepy as I was when I first landed. All that weight training helps!”
“Good!” Tiago says. “How was your journey from Earth? Was Qualification as difficult as they say? We’ve heard some horrifying stories!”
I answer with more bits of memorized platitudes and dry factual nonsense that all comes out sounding so much worse than it did when I first practiced it. What’s going on?
“Qualification was brutal,” I conclude uselessly. “I don’t know how I survived. I think I only made it because of all my friends. We—we all helped each other. I wish more people could’ve been saved. But I was lucky, compared to so many others—two of my three siblings also made it here. There are so many of us with all our families still left behind there, waiting for the asteroid to strike.”
Tiago nods sympathetically. “I think I can speak for the entire audience here, in wishing we could have saved more people of Earth.”
“Thank you,” I say. And my voice fades. Then suddenly so does my breath.
The audience grows very quiet . . . as if all these thousands of people realize that I don’t think I can keep talking.
But Tiago breaks up the intense moment by clapping his hands together. “Tell us the story of your royal romance! How did you and the Imperial Crown Prince meet and fall in love? We are eager to know—in your Earth English—we are dying to know!”
Immediately the stadium comes alive.
I open my mouth, and feel my face turning warm. Even though I’m ready to begin talking, and I’ve thoroughly rehearsed this answer, it is still very uncomfortable, more than I expected. “Well . . .” I say. “We met during Qualification.”
“You did? Remarkable!”
“Aeson Kassiopei was in charge of my Regional Qualification Center in Pennsylvania, and he demonstrated very impressive Er-Du Combat techniques to my class, and then I had a chance to work with him during . . . um . . . various other training.”
“Aha! We mustn?
??t attempt to guess what other naughty training was involved, eh?” Tiago says with a wiggle of his brows.
“Tiago!” I exclaim with false outrage, then continue. “Later I ended up on Imperial Command Ship Two, and I became his office aide, assigned to write a historical record of our journey from Earth, and he was my commanding officer. We had a chance to get to know each other and interact through our work. . . . And over time we found each other very interesting and admirable. And—we sort of fell in love, I guess.”
I grow silent, with a stupid little smile glued on my face, as I hold my lips tight. Oh my God, how utterly bland and uninteresting I make it sound! I’ve managed to reduce all the indescribable wonder of “me and Aeson” into a few dry, lifeless, boring sentences.
Tiago is probably wincing inside and slapping himself for agreeing to interview me.
Instead he says, “My Imperial Lady, you inspire me to write poetry! So the two of you grew closer, I’m assuming, during the long year of your journey together? What was it like?”
I saved his life and he saved mine, many times over. . . .
“Yes . . . well . . . I think it was mostly toward the end that . . . certain feelings became clear,” I say, stumbling for words, while my face flushes with heat.
Tiago smiles, nodding. “Now, when exactly did you realize that you were in love with not merely a fine handsome man but the Imperial Kassiopei Prince?”
“Oh, wow,” I whisper, clutching my hands together in my lap.
. . . You matter to him, Lark. . . .
I glance down momentarily in stupid panic, while trying to maintain my awful, forced smile. “Not sure, actually, I don’t think I really knew who he was until I was about to Qualify. I thought he was a brilliant officer—high ranking, of course—but it didn’t matter who he was, not with how I felt about him. He already had my heart, long before I knew any of his background.”
Tiago makes a crooning sound and puts his hands together, and I actually hear a few claps in the audience.
My lord, I finally managed to say something they like. . . .
“You love the Imperial Crown Prince Aeson very much, don’t you?” Tiago follows up.
“Oh, yes!” I inhale deeply, and show the audience a beaming smile. This one is more natural, because I don’t need to give a canned answer.
I just love him.
As simple as that. No need to elaborate or say anything else at all. My genuine expression speaks for me.
The stadium starts to clap wildly.
Tiago nods in satisfaction. “True love indeed! It’s impossible not to be enchanted with this unusual love story, and I’d love to hear more romantic juicy details at another time—another interview, perhaps? But now it’s time to ask the big question.”
“Okay, please do,” I say, nodding to him with the remainder of my smile, and the audience still clapping in encouragement.
“All right, are you ready? This one is the Grail Games Daily Deep Question!” Tiago begins the second portion of his interview with the popular gimmick that the audience expects. “My Imperial Lady, the question to you is: ‘What made you ultimately decide to enter the Games of the Atlantis Grail?’ And for all of you watching: guess the answer correctly, post it now—in no more than three words, in English—to any media feed using the Earth-style hashtag #GGDDeepQuestion and you’ll be entered to win one of ten free passes to the Games Commencement Day Ceremony!”
I pause, as though considering carefully, and giving the audience about thirty seconds of time to make their guess, as I’ve been instructed beforehand. While the band plays the GGD theme to fill airtime, I can hear the stadium audience shuffle out their Atlantean equivalents of personal devices and start posting their entries. . . . Whispers fill the grand hall.
And then I give my memorized answer—the awful false answer that’s supposed to justify the Imperator’s actions toward me and paint everything in a different light.
“Well, Tiago, it was a tough and maybe even strange decision, and I didn’t come to it lightly. After all, I already had so many wonderful things happen in my life, so much good fortune, that I should count my blessings and probably stop while I’m ahead. But here’s the thing—I want to become who I am on my own merits—a Citizen of Imperial Atlantida, not by luck of marriage but through my own effort, by means of personal achievement. I want to earn my Citizenship.”
Tiago nods wisely. “Ah, I do understand. The wish to become your own woman—or man—is what drives so many of us, myself included.”
“Exactly!” I pick up. “So my decision was made long before I arrived on Atlantis—”
As I speak, my thoughts flash back to the original reasons. Save my family on Earth . . . get Mom medical treatment for cancer. . . . None of it can be brought up or mentioned—not now.
“And so,” I continue, “as all of you know, my future Father-in-Law, the Archaeon Imperator Himself, discovered my intentions and kindly granted me this wish as an Imperial Gift during the first formal Court Assembly held in my honor.”
The stadium responds with mixed noise. Of course they all know what happened, since it’s been all over their media, but they don’t know why, and what’s really behind it. The frustrating part is, I can’t tell them the truth. I can only hope that enough people might read between the lines and understand, and recognize the Imperial Gift for the punishment it truly is.
“Yes, of course, the Imperial Gift!” Tiago exclaims. “And what a perfectly thoughtful gift it was indeed! Our Imperial Sovereign was graciously wise in giving you exactly what you wanted!”
Is there a hint of sarcasm in the way he pronounces the word “thoughtful?”
But I’ve no time to consider, because Tiago turns to the audience. “Applause, everyone! Applause for the Archaeon Imperator and His stunning gift!”
He stands up from his chair, raises his hands and begins to clap, inciting the stadium into an ovation. Not sure how much of the audience reaction is genuine admiration or even worship of the Imperial Family, and how much of it is hype for the sake of this show, but it comes across as quite impressive—both the audience and Tiago, feeding off each other . . . seriously amazing to watch.
Turns out, ordinary Atlanteans clap hands just as we do, to express approval. But they also clap other body parts and one another, which I recall now, from having seen boisterous live audiences on Atlantean TV. As I stare into the ocean of screaming people, I see them clapping backs and forearms, thighs and the sides of their jaw, not to mention each other, and the nearest hard objects within reach. And yes, they scream and hoot and make other noise with their mouths. . . .
Tiago finally stops clapping and lowers his hands, bringing the stadium into silence. But he continues looking at them, as he says, “Wonderful, yes, wonderful! What tantalizing glimpses we’ve been given of our new Imperial Lady and her Kassiopei love—what a story! And now, those of you who’ve answered the Grail Games Daily Deep Question with at least one of the following words—effort, merit, personal, respect, achievement, honor, Citizenship—you’ve correctly guessed and are entered to win!”
The audience cheers and screams once more, while the music blasts out another power riff.
Tiago makes a playful bow to the stadium, then sits down again. “And now, it’s your turn! I’m going to pick four lucky members of today’s audience to ask the Imperial Lady Gwen any question they like! Are you ready?”
The audience responds with a roar, the loudest of the evening.
Okay, here it comes, I think, as a new surge of terror comes to drown me. The unscripted portion.
Tiago does not pick these audience questions beforehand, it’s completely random—which is part of what makes Grail Games Daily so popular. The questions could be anything. They range from harmless fluff to the most unimaginably awful invasions of privacy. . . .
Lying in my lap, my hands stiffen in a bloodless grip of tension.
The theme music plays a rapid nervous pulse-beat, while suddenly four g
lowing balls of color light appear overhead and slowly descend from the ceiling, each one the size of a basketball. The audience squeals and whispers in anticipation, as thousands of people wave and hold up their hands, reaching out eagerly.
The colored ball spheres—blue, yellow, red, green, for the Four Cornerstones of Atlantis—continue to float down like balloons, soaring around the stadium. And then suddenly they dart in every direction, moving like speeding birds, until they randomly land in someone’s hands. That person who gets a glowing ball gets to ask me a question.
“Well done!” Tiago exclaims, as the music crescendos and stops. “Now, Red, you are first! You may ask your question of our charming guest! Go ahead! And please be courteous and speak clearly!”
In addition to choosing audience participants, each colored ball serves as a voice amplifier. The person holding the ball speaks their question into it in order to be heard by me and the rest of the stadium.
There’s a moment of silence. Then an older woman holding the red ball somewhere in the back of the stadium speaks in measured but excellent English:
“Imperial Lady Gwen Lark. As the saying goes on your Earth, you are living the dream. You have it all—the love of our Imperial Crown Prince, a great position in our society, wealth and opportunities. Why would you risk everything including your life, to enter the Games?”
The distant woman grows silent, and the ball of red light in her hands goes out.
I think for a moment, take a deep breath. “Thank you for your question,” I say, while my heartbeat picks up speed. “You’re right, it makes little sense for me to be doing this. I have so much to lose—what am I saying, I have everything to lose. But this is a personal choice and a matter of honor for me. If I don’t make this effort, I will always wonder if I truly deserve to have all the fortunes that I do, the greatest of them being the love of Imperial Crown Prince Aeson Kassiopei, and the respect of all of you—the people of Atlantida.”