Ship Don't Love Their Anchors...?
“Just a few more questions and we’ll be done.”
“Thank you.”
“You say you didn’t come out of that place alone and that the other boy did not survive. Did you kill him?”
“No”
“May I ask how he died?”
“He attempted to kill me. He failed but I was temporarily incapacitated. She realized the danger and killed him to survive.”
“But she didn’t try to kill you, or vice versa?”
“Correct”
“Why is that?”
“She needed my protection and I needed her computer skills.”
“I’ve seen her fight, and I’ve seen your computer skills. You don’t need each other for that.”
“…”
“And since you don’t need her, you should have killed her. That’s what you were ordered to do, yes?”
“…Yes”
“Why didn’t you kill her?”
“She asked me that at the time.”
“And your answer?”
“She is familiar.”
“I see. It’s easier to face the unknown when you’re not alone.”
“Yes”
“Surely by now you’ve become accustomed to the outside. You don’t need someone to hold your hand anymore, no?”
“No”
“But the two of you have stayed together all these years.”
“Yes”
“You must love her very much.”
“No”
“But you risked your life to save her; an action that goes against everything you were taught in that place. You don’t expect me to believe that you’ve done all this just because she’s familiar?”
“It is more than that.”
“You mean now?”
“From the beginning.”
“You mean from when you left that place, when you said she was just familiar?”
“My words at that time were limited. It was all I knew to say.”
“Then how would you say it today?”
“The world out here is huge and powerful. It is like a maelstrom; a storm of near sentient malevolence that encompasses everything. It swallows land, sea, and sky such that no line, no barrier exists to delineate them.
Only rarely do I see a flash of light, sense a brief calm, like the peaceful eye of the storm. But these moments serve only to punctuate the dark ugliness that is this maelstrom. They are reminders of this world’s true nature.
No ship can survive being tossed on such waves, being dragged farther and farther from shore. If I were alone on these seas I would have ceased to exist long ago.
She is my anchor.
We are connected by common experience much like a chain connects anchor to ship. We were raised, trained; forged, if you will, in the same way that ships and anchors are forged from the same metal.
We are one and the same. Our connection can not, and must not, be broken. It would be impossible for me to survive out here alone. Without my anchor I would be lost.
Without her I would drown.”
“Well, that sounds a lot like love to me.”
“Ships don’t love their anchors.”
