SEPTEMBER 2, 2018
The camera is positioned to one side of a study. Bookshelves line the walls; a heavy wooden desk in the center of the room is covered in orderly but prolific stacks of folders, books, and papers. A photograph on the desk shows Dr. Andrew Ashford standing with Miranda and Abigail Ryder, his wards, in front of a sycamore tree.
In the chair in front of the desk sits a young white woman: Sophia Novak. She is blonde, in her late teens. Her features are solemn, her skin sun-weathered. Dr. Ashford appears from behind the camera and sits opposite her, in the chair behind the desk.
ASHFORD: There we go. Ms. Novak, was it? Is it Sophie or Sophia?
SOPHIA: Either one is fine.
ASHFORD: I see. Thank you for coming all this way.
SOPHIA: I thought I should. Abby said—she talked about you a lot.
ASHFORD: The file Ms. Ryder compiled is incomplete. Her notes are fragmentary and I’m having trouble piecing together exactly what occurred. I hoped you could fill in the blanks.
Sophia seems to have expected this. She reaches down to a backpack beside her chair and pulls out a spiral-bound notebook.
SOPHIA: I wrote it all down. Abby asked me to, but I didn’t get the chance to give it to her.
She slides it across the table to him. Ashford rests his hand over it but doesn’t open it yet.
ASHFORD: What happened on Bitter Rock, Ms. Novak? What did you two find there?
Sophia smiles a little, almost sadly.
SOPHIA: Nothing but echoes.