Michele Jaffe - Minders

SA: I work my hardest at everything. That’s just achieving, not overachieving.

CP: You are the valedictorian of your class, the co-captain of the tennis team, the head of your school’s community volunteer committee, a national debate champion, have never been in trouble, and are considered a role model by your peers and teachers alike. Your résumé makes you look perfect. Tell me one thing about yourself that’s not perfect.

SA: My father would say I take things too seriously.

CP: Do you agree?

SA: Pete—my boyfriend—would.

CP: And you?

SA: It’s not something I really think about.

CP: Can you always control your thoughts?

SA: Mostly.

CP: Sometimes the experience of Syncopy can trigger underlying conditions. Please answer yes or no to the following. Have you ever experienced claustrophobia?

SA: No.

CP: Depression?

SA: No.

CP: Homicidal urges?

SA: No.

CP: Animal attacks?

SA: No.

CP: Panic or anxiety attacks?

SA: Not at all.

CP: Phobias?

SA: I’m afraid of heights.

CP: What about heights, specifically? The openness?

SA: Falling.

CP: Have you ever been witness to a crime?

SA: No.

CP: What would you do if you found yourself in that position?

SA: Contact the appropriate authorities and help the victim.

CP: In that order?

SA: If possible. Alerting those with the power to do something would seem to be the prudent first step.

CP: So if you saw a convenience store clerk being held up by a robber with a gun to his head, you’d—

SA: Call Serenity Services.

CP: You wouldn’t try to tackle the robber?

SA: That would most likely get us both killed. Approaching someone with a gun is far more likely to escalate the situation to violence.

CP: Interesting.

SA: The statistics are very clear on that.

CP: The statistics, yes. But what about your gut reaction? Would that really be to think of statistics?

SA: I work hard to behave according to what is most logical, rather than by listening to my “gut.”

CP: I’m going to give you a hypothetical situation and ask you some questions about it.

SA: Okay.

CP: An old woman is looking at a Rembrandt in a museum when a fire breaks out. You can only save one, the woman or the painting, but not both. Which would you save?

SA: I’d ask the old woman what she wanted me to do.

CP: You didn’t even have to think about that.

SA: It’s the logical thing to do.

CP: And if she told you to choose?

SA: I’d send her out with the painting and stay behind myself.

CP: And if that were not an option?

SA: I would save the painting. It would benefit more people.

CP: And if instead of an old woman you had to choose between saving the painting or a kitten?

SA: The painting. Of course.

CP: What if the old woman is a Nobel Prize–winning scientist on the cusp of a breakthrough cure for cancer?

SA: If I had a chance to find all that out, I would imagine there would be time to save both her and the painting.

CP: That’s a cop-out.

SA: So is continually tweaking a hypothetical problem so that it never concludes.

CP: So it is, Miss Ames. Very well, let’s take a real-life example. I see that you have worked the past two summers at the snack bar at the country club. What would you do if you found out a co-worker was stealing from the cash register?

SA: I would tell our boss.

CP: What if they said they desperately needed the money and begged you not to turn them in?

SA: You’re not helping them if you don’t. If they need the money that badly, they need help, and stealing won’t be the answer over the long term. Alerting someone in charge would be the best way to get them the true assistance they need and avert a much bigger catastrophe.

CP: What if it was a cute guy you wanted to date?

SA: I don’t believe in dating at work.

CP: What if it were Decca? Your best friend.

SA: Then I would sell the Rembrandt we just rescued, take the money, and she and I would go on the run.

CP: Really?

SA: No. I would turn her in and get her the best help I could. Because if Decca were stealing, it would mean that she was gravely unhappy or deeply in trouble, and I would do everything in my power to get her happy and well again. And the best first step would be to put a stop to the destructive behavior.

CP: I thought you said your friends would describe you as loyal. Now you’re turning them in?

SA: Not punishing someone and letting them “get away” with something isn’t love, and it isn’t friendship. It is lazy and enabling. People use loyalty as emotional blackmail for morally questionable decisions. Making the hard choice shows you are paying attention and that you care. That is true loyalty.

CP: Very rousing.

SA: I’m sorry if that was too zealous.

CP: Never apologize for showing that you have a pulse, Miss Ames. If you are accepted as a Fellow, you will be on your own in someone’s mind, entirely, for nearly two months. You will have no contact with anyone, no one to talk to. And no control. Up until this point your whole life has been about control. This would mean completely yielding to someone else.

SA: That doesn’t worry me.

CP: But are you sure it is what you want?

SA: Yes. Very much.

CP: So far it seems like this fellowship would simply be something else to add to your already impressive college application. Give me one reason why I should believe it means more to you than that.

SA: I just killed off an old woman—possibly a Nobel laureate—and a kitten, and turned in my best friend and two co-workers for stealing in order to persuade you to give it to me.

CP: So you did. [Laughing.] Still, tell me why you want it.

SA: I want to feel what pressures other people feel. Experience the world guided by someone else’s moral compass. See and hear and taste with senses formed in a completely different mold than mine. I want to see what it’s like to live someone else’s lie.

CP: Well put.

SA: Someone else’s life.

CP: Of course. I believe that covers everything. Thank you, Miss Ames.

END INTERVIEW

ORIENTATION

At nine forty-five on a sunny Thursday morning, Sadie Ames took a sharp left “at the birdhouse,” as directed by the instructions she’d been e-mailed, and went from a single-lane road to a rutted mud track overhung with trees. As she came around the curve, pebbles pinged against the side of her Saab convertible—red, at her father’s insistence—and her tires jiggled over an uneven patch of mud.

Sadie’s hands curled around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. No no no , she thought to herself. It was a warm June morning, but she felt a chill of apprehension. This could not be happening. She was not going to be late to orientation. She’d allowed an hour and a half for what was only supposed to be a forty-minute drive; even with the accident backing up things on the Zipway, everything was going fine.