Dave Eggers - Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever?

— I’m going to fucking kill you. But the cops will kill you first.

— Kev, that won’t happen.

— You don’t think there’s a massive manhunt to find out what happened to me?

— Don’t be conceited. You were never conceited. You were one of those guys who knows he’s smart and strong and destined for great things, but you also knew it wasn’t going to help you if you advertised it to the world. So you had a nice kind of public humility thing working for you. I liked that. I understood your whole gambit, but I liked it and respected it. So don’t blow it with the “I’m an astronaut” bravado.

— Fine. But you’re still dead. They’ll find me in twenty-four hours.

— No, they won’t. I texted three people from your phone, telling them all you were in different places. I told one of your NASA coworkers you had a death in the family. And I told your parents you were on a training assignment. Thank god for texting — I can impersonate you perfectly. Then I turned your phone off and threw it away.

— There’s a hundred things you haven’t thought of.

— Maybe. Maybe not. So are you wondering where you are? This whole base is decommissioned and falling apart. No one knows what to do with it, so it’s just standing here, rotting on billion-dollar land. You can’t see it from here, but the ocean is about a half mile down the slope. The views are incredible. But on this land there are just these crumbling old buildings. There are hundreds of them, and twenty more like this one, all in a row. I think this one was used to test chemical weapons. There’s one nearby where they taught interrogation methods. And the ones like this, they all have these posts you can hook things onto. Why are you looking at me like that? Does that mean you recognize me?

— No.

— Yes you do.

— I don’t. You’re a fucking lunatic and I told you, I don’t know lunatics. My life’s been charmed that way.

— Kev. I really want to get started. So we’re either going to get started the way I hope we can get started, with us talking, or I’ll tase you, get you in line a bit, and then we’ll get started. So why not just talk to me? Let’s go about this like men. We have a task ahead of us and we might as well do it. You were always all business, getting things taken care of, moving on. I expect that kind of efficiency from you. Now where am I from? How do you know me?

— I don’t know. I’ve never been to prison. I’m assuming you escaped from somewhere.

— Kev, you see that taser there? If you decide not to talk with me then I tase you. If you yell for help, I leave the building till you shut up, then I come back and tase you. It’s so much better if we just talk.

— And then what? You kill me.

— I couldn’t kill you. I’ve never killed anything.

— But if I tell anyone about this, you’re in prison for ten, twenty years. Kidnapping an astronaut?

— That’s my problem, not yours. Obviously, you’re locked to a post, so I have the upper hand in terms of when someone finds you and how far away I can be by the time you’re found. Kev, I don’t mean to be a dick, but can we get started? Obviously I have this whole thing figured out. I brought you this far, and I managed to get you chained up. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I’ve been planning this for a while. So can we start?

— And if I talk to you then you let me go?

— I won’t harm you. You’ll be rescued eventually. I leave, I send a message to someone, telling them where you are, and they come to find you. By then I’m on my way. So one more time before I get angry. How do we know each other?

— College.

— Ah. There you go. College. You remember my name?

— No.

— Kev, c’mon.

— I don’t know.

— But you knew I was from college.

— I didn’t know that. I guessed.

— C’mon. Think.

— Bob?

— You know my name isn’t Bob. No one’s name is Bob.

— Dick?

— Dick? Oh, I get it. That’s a name you’re calling me. Listen. I want to think you’re a nice guy, so just tell me you remember my name.

— Okay. I remember you.

— Good. And my name is …

— Steve.

— No.

— Bob.

— Bob again? Really?

— Rob? Danny?

— You really don’t know! Okay, let’s walk through it, slowly. Was I from undergrad or grad school?

— Undergrad.

— Thank you. I was three years younger. Ring a bell?

— No.

— Think Intro to Aerospace Engineering. You were a TA.

— There were a hundred and twenty kids in that class.

— But think. I stayed after a lot. I asked you questions about time travel.

— You used to wear Timberlands?

— Aha. There you go. And my name is …

— Gus.

— Close! Thomas.

— Thomas? Sure, I remember. I could never forget you. So Thomas, why the fuck do you have me chained to a post?

— Kev, did you know Neil Armstrong died today?

— Yes, I did know that.

— How did that affect you?

— How did that affect me?

— Yes, how did that affect you?

— I don’t know. I was sad. He was a great man.

— He went to the moon.

— Yes he did.

— But you won’t go to the moon.

— No. Why would I go to the moon?

— Because you’re an astronaut.

— Astronauts don’t go to the moon.

— They don’t anymore.

— No.

— Right. And how do you feel about that, Kev?

— Jesus Christ.

— I have a taser, Kev. You’re better off answering.

— I didn’t care about going to the moon. It hasn’t been a NASA priority for forty years.

— You wanted to be on the Shuttle.

— Yes.

— I bet you wonder how I knew that.

— No, I don’t.

— You’re not curious?

— Every astronaut wanted to go on the Shuttle.

— Sure, but I know how long you’ve wanted it. You told me one day you were going to go up in the Shuttle. Remember that?

— No.

— You probably said that a lot. But I remember it so well. It was so steady, you were so sure. You inspired me. You asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I think you asked me just so you could answer the question yourself. So I said something about being a cop or FBI agent or something, and do you remember what you said? This was right outside Moore Hall. It was a crisp fall day.

— I said I wanted to go up in the Shuttle.

— Exactly! Do you really remember, or are you just humoring me?

— I don’t know.

— Kev, you really better take this seriously. I take this seriously. I went through a fuckload of trouble to get you here, so you must know I’m serious. Now with all fucking seriousness, do you remember that day when you looked me in the eye and told me you were absolutely sure you would go up in the Shuttle?

— Yes. I do.

— Good. And now where are you?

— I’m in a military base chained to a post.

— Good. Good one. But you know what I mean. I mean, where are you in your life now? You’re sure as hell not on the Shuttle.

— The Shuttle is decommissioned.

— Right. A year after you became an astronaut.

— You know too much about me.

— Of course I know about you! We all did. You became an astronaut! You actually did it. You didn’t know how much people were paying attention, did you, Kev? That little college we went to, with what, five thousand people, most of them idiots except you and me? And you end up going to MIT, get your master’s in aerospace engineering, and you’re in the Navy, too? I mean, you were my fucking hero, man. Everything you said you were going to do, you did. It was incredible. You were the one fulfilled promise I’ve ever known in this life. You know how rarely a promise is kept? A kept promise is like a white whale, man! But when you became an astronaut you kept a promise, a big fucking promise, and I felt like from there any promise could be kept. That all promises could be kept — should be kept.