12 Days of Fiction 2018, Day One
An Interview With Primus, Part I
The journey to Star City starts with what looks like a common commute, using the maglev. You start noticing the differences when after a few stops you realize you are the only one left in the car, and it veers off course and even deeper underground. In the end, the last indicator is the private station.
The doors open and the maglev leaves me at the station hall, with absolutely nobody on sight. Yet I am sure I am being watched, as my assistant tells me the way immediately. They guide me to a lift, which feels as if it is there exclusively for me.
I enter, my cameras with me, and it shoots up. Sometimes I count the seconds when I’m in a lift. This time I do. When I reach twenty-four, sunlight welcomes me. I am above ground. And not only that: I am some forty floors up, and my lift still climbs, now up the side of the main Star City spire.
I stare fascinated at the sight of the most advanced city on Earth sprawling below me, but then my trip ends. I barely feel the deceleration, but I hear the door hiss open behind me as the observation window goes opaque. I turn around, and there he is.
For a person that earns a living writing, my first impression of Primus leaves me without words. He certainly has a commanding presence, but of course his physical appearance could have been different. His office is large without being overwhelming; fastidiously clean, like everything I have seen so far. He has a desk with a book on it. There’s a pen by the book. Before the desk there are two armchairs and a coffee table with a teapot.
“Ms Vonn, pleased to meet you,” he greets me. His smile is disarming; his tone, warm. His voice, soothing. He offers me a seat and brews tea, chai, for the two of us. It is the best cup I’ve ever had.
I am almost as comfortable as if I was at home.
Almost.
“Mr Primus, why all of these?”
“It’s only Primus, please. The answer is easy: I want you to feel at ease. You are here to talk to me, to ask me any and all questions you wish to ask. I want you to relax and let the conversation flow.”
“Compared to letting my journalist instincts come up with… inconvenient questions?”
“No. You have your assistant on, and I could have disabled it. But I won’t. There’s no need. Even so, I’m sure you have hand-written notes on you, and you’ve done your homework. You have rehearsed your questions, haven’t you?”
“Have you been spying me, Primus?”
“A bit.” Again, he smiles. It looks genuine. “I chose you, after all. I like the way you work.”
“You chose me because it suits you, I assume?”
“No, I chose you because you’re the best.”
“Flattery now?”
“No, truth. And you can quote me on that. In fact, you can quote me on everything I say.”
And he insists on it. For brevity, I have edited our conversation, but it is available in full for download.
Primus crosses his legs, the image of composure.
“Shall we start, Ms Vonn?”
I call up my questions, even though I have to confess he was right: I knew them by heart. First things first.
“Primus, you are the leader of your people.”
“Can I ask you a question instead? Do you know what Primus means?”
“Yes. It’s from Latin, ‘Primus inter pares’, first among equals.”
“Exactly. That’s the name I chose: we have no leader, Ms Vonn.”
“But you’re still the first.”
“I was one of the first ones, yes.”
“The speaker, then.”
“I prefer that.”
“Very well. The speaker for your people. For the ahumans.”
“Ah, yes. Ahumans.” I am not sure I can read his expression. I’d say it is discomfort.
“Is there a term do you prefer?”
“To tell the truth, no. We do not consider ourselves different.”
“Yet you all live here in Star City, separated from the rest. From… common humans.”
“Not by choice,” and his tone was more serious. “It was forced on us.”
“But that happened more than a century ago, Primus. You could have opened up.”
“I won’t say you are not right, Ms Vonn. We could. But in the end, we find this… arrangement convenient.” Primus speaks slowly, deliberately. He chooses his words carefully.
“Still: ahumans, Primus.”
“A term coined around one hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Augmented humans.”
“We don’t like the connotations it has.”
“But you are augmented. You are better.”
I’d say Primus sighs.
“We are.”
