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“I’m in the hospital for one week and the world goes hyperbolic.” Dorothy sat up in her hospital bed watching the news on the wall-mounted TV. The tubes that had been sticking out of her were gone. The monitors that had displayed her breathing and echoed her pulse were blank and silent. Pointing the remote, she switched off the TV.
The Colonel sat in a recliner in a corner of her room, facing her. An empty suitcase stood on the floor near him.
“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist,” he said. “When your freezer quits, you eat the ice cream before it melts. They’re starting wars to sell as much military hardware as possible before it’s obsolete. Yesterday I turned down six contracts to help start and fight six different wars.”
“You knew about this before it hit the news?” For some reason that annoyed her. As if, knowing about it, he could have stopped it.
“Yup. All the wars are in Africa and South America, safely away from where the weapon manufacturers live. Good places to dump stuff, as far as they’re concerned. The northern hemisphere doesn’t care who gets killed in the southern hemisphere.”
“Why’d you turn them down?”
“It wasn’t the money. The money was top dollar. The weapon companies are going to make a fortune off these wars. But they’re pointless meat grinders. All the reputable private military contractors are turning them down.”
“You’re saying you have standards for who you kill?”
The Colonel looked at her sharply, opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t.
She saw anger in his eyes. But it went away quickly. In the short time I’ve known him he’s had guns pointed at him. He’s been manipulated by his employers. He’s been betrayed multiple times. He’s lost millions of dollars. But no anger. Yet I made him angry with a few sarcastic words.
He spoke first, “Common reaction. To you I’m just a hired gun. But ... ” he looked straight at her, imploring, “I ask that you judge me and my men based on what you’ve seen, not on what you think you know about hired guns.” He paused. “Policemen have standards for who they kill, too.”
Dorothy looked at him thoughtfully. She was quiet for a full minute. “I’ve met law enforcement officers with lower standards. I apologize for what I said. That was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”
“No harm done. I feel the same way toward the freelancers who take contracts in these wars. They’re a stain on my profession, like dirty cops. But mostly I blame the people paying them. They’re the ones who start the wars. Not the freelancers.”
“I see your point.”
“I’ve seen suffering and death. My own country trained me and paid me to add to it. Now I try to take jobs where I can reduce it.” He looked at her and responded to the skepticism in her eyes, “For a price. Yes. For a price. Policemen get paid, too.”
Dorothy nodded silently.
“There are places the police won’t go that I will. But I won’t take part in pointless wars like these. Meat grinders, like I said. Just grinding meat for money.”
Dorothy nodded, “Not if I can help it.” She had been sitting with her pen poised over a pad of paper. She showed him pages filled with scribbled notes, sketches, and fragments of equations. “I’m working on the formulas for a gravity shield. A sufficiently intense gravity gradient acts like a brick wall. We all decided that should be our first priority.”
“Excellent!” said the Colonel. “Can you make it small enough to wear as body armor?”
Dorothy thought for a moment, visualizing the gradient equations. “Probably. But one thing at a time. I’ll put it on my list.”
“You really are a super-hero!” the Colonel smiled. He stood up and stepped to her bedside. “Here, I think you’ll enjoy this.” He tossed a graphic novel, what used to be called a comic book, on her lap.
She looked at the cover. Her eyes grew wide. “Wave Woman!? She looks like ... Oh ... No ... They didn’t!”
“They did. She disguises herself as a bag lady to wander the streets unnoticed. And she uses math and science to solve crimes. She carries a suite of computers inside her raggedy overcoat. And her big straw hat is wired as a sensor dish and houses several tiny drones. And you should see all the gadgets she has in her shopping cart.”
Dorothy set down her pen and leafed through a couple of pages. “This is odd. They draw her as a normal woman. No big boobs. No scanty costumes.”
“That’s because the comic is targeted to girls, not boys. You’re a role model, Dorothy. A real live role model for girls.”
“Oh,” said Dorothy. She paused for a few seconds. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Don’t let it worry you. Wave Woman is Wave Woman. You are you.”
Dorothy smiled, “Does she have a sidekick, Tautology Man?”
“You could suggest it to them. But she does have friends with a variety of personality ... quirks. It teaches kids a bit about mental illness. The first issue addresses imposter syndrome. I gather that’s common in women ... and may be preventable.”
Dorothy flipped through the comic, then started reading it from the beginning.
The Colonel let her read for a while, watching her face cycle through expressions of surprise, amusement, puzzlement, concern, and back to amusement. He grinned slightly. The story in the graphic novel bore no relation to reality. It was about Wave Woman cleverly fighting crime with the help of quirky friends. It wasn’t about Dorothy running from kidnappers, then kidnapped by freelance soldiers, then kidnapped by the US government, then abandoned as a homeless billionaire, and briefly dying. Because who’d believe that?
“Professor Anderson, if I might interrupt for a moment.” He waited until she looked up. He’d learned it was pointless to talk with her when she was focused on something else. “I have an idea. It just occurred to me that freelancers in body shields could be hired to stop wars, not just start them and fight them.”
“Hmmm?”
“You can put all the shields you want around fixed installations, but that’s still playing defense. You can’t win on defense. At best you can avoid losing. But you can’t win. Nor can you stop the fighting. That’s only possible on offense. And it’s done best by troops on the ground.”
“I don’t know anything about the military,” said Dorothy. “But I guess that makes sense.”
“If you can get some of those body shields for my men ... well ... my men would be practically invulnerable, like supermen. We could walk into the headquarters on both sides and stop the show. How would you like to hire us to stop those wars?”
Dorothy thought for a moment. “That’s an intriguing idea. Let me talk with the people in New York and see if they can make body shields a higher priority. But don’t get too confident. For every form of shield I’ve come up with, I’ve also come up with ways to penetrate it.”
“Measures and countermeasures. That’s how it always works. But in the meantime, I think we can do a lot of good.”
Dorothy looked back down at her graphic novel. “Maybe they’ll write one of these about you and your men.”
The Colonel grunted. “Maybe. Let’s get you packed and continue saving the world on the plane to New York.”
Two days later, they met for dinner in Chinatown in lower Manhattan. The restaurant, a hole-in-the-wall on a narrow one-way street, sat next to an oriental grocery. The grocery displayed dried lizards, snakes, bats, and a variety of crinkled mushrooms hanging from awning posts out front. Dorothy and the Colonel saw, and smelled, the open bins full of pungent spices. The sights and smells startled and delighted Dorothy as she walked past. For the Colonel they evoked memories, some recent and pleasant, some old and best forgotten.
After they ordered, Dorothy told the Colonel, in an apologetic tone, “My therapist said I should tell you this. She said you need to know this can’t be a date. Maybe you’ve heard this before, but it’s not you, it’s me.”
The Colonel smiled a little, “I’ve heard it before.”
“Except it’s true this time,” said Dorothy. “I’m still messed up. And I don’t want to mess up any ... relationships.”
“I understand.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of it. I’m not the dating type. Never have been.”
“No?”
“No. Well, look at me. Pudgy face creased by decades of anger. Drab, grey-streaked hair. Shapeless, drab body. I know I’m plain.”
“You’re attractive.”
“No, I know I’m not pretty.”
“I didn’t say you were pretty. I said you were attractive. That’s got nothing to do with mere pretty.”
“ ... Oh ... ”
“Brains aren’t pretty. They’re attractive. Wit and character aren’t pretty. They’re attractive. Anyone can be pretty. But you’re attractive. That’s a lot harder and rarer and better than pretty.”
“ ... Oh ... ”
He smiled, “And your witty repartee, too. Look at me. You think I’m pretty?”
Without thinking she blurted, “God, no! ... I mean ... ”
“Of course not. Don’t want to be pretty. Pretty is shallow. Pretty doesn’t last.”
“Oh ... I guess you are sort of a little bit attractive.”
“Gettin’ a compliment around here is like pullin’ teeth.” He grinned.
“I’m not the complimenting type. Never have been.”
“Well, you’re starting small. That’s good. Don’t hurt yourself.”
They smiled at each other.
Then Dorothy broke the gaze and looked down, serious again. “I told you about the plane trip. I don’t know who I am.”
“Yes. And Stockholm syndrome is a possibility between us. Though just in the beginning.”
“Oh?”
“Didn’t you notice the turnabout? After the first couple of days, we weren’t your kidnappers any more. We were your bodyguards. I wasn’t sure who was at whose mercy.”
“Hmm-m-m.” Dorothy turned her head and stared at an age-spotted wall for a moment. “And you still haven’t been paid. There were ... what ... thirty-five soldiers?”
“Thirty-three.”
“They kept the Saudis away at the very beginning. And helped me after my own government screwed me over ... Do you think a million each would be fair? That’s probably what they could have ransomed me for.”
“I think that’s very fair. Considering that some of us just waterskied and ate pizza. And considering that another option is thirty years in maximum security for kidnapping you.”
“Well, I definitely don’t want them mad at me. And the way the world is going, they might be handy friends to have on call. I’ll have one of my money managers wire the money to you, and you can dispense it.”
“Will do.”
Dorothy stared at the blank wall again. “Did I just say that? ... Did I just put a private army on retainer for 33 million dollars? ... Today is surreal.”
“Hmm?”
“Well, maybe not surreal. But today was rather odd. And maybe a step backward for me. Because after today I not only don’t know who I am, I also don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Oh?”
“Except I don’t feel bad about it. Which seems odd.” Her voice trailed off.
“What happened?”
“Two things. A math seminar and an economics meeting. I met my new boss yesterday. A computer game manager named Boingy Binghamton. That’s Boingy with a hard g. He’s particular that you pronounce it right ... god knows why.” She thought for a moment. “I get mental whiplash just thinking about him. I have no idea how his mind works. But he’s an amazing organizer. Anyway, he’s got me teaching a daily gravity wave seminar to a group of employees and contractors around the world. Eight were in the conference room. Another fifteen or so skyped in.
“A half dozen of their names I recognized. I’ve read some of their papers in journals over the years. I don’t know how Boingy found them. Or how he got them to agree to join this project. What I do know is they are the smartest people on the planet. You know how complex my math is?” The Colonel nodded, though he knew he didn’t have a clue. “Well, let me tell you, they had done their homework. Soon after I started talking, they pushed me faster. They started jumping ahead of me. Within forty-five minutes, they were talking about extensions of the theory that I could barely keep up with.”
“Frustrating?” asked the Colonel.
“Are you kidding? I’ve never been more proud to be a human being in my life! I never knew people like them existed! I didn’t know they could exist. After an hour the experience was like dangling out the back of a roller coaster, hanging on for dear life.”
“Frightening?”
“Exciting! Entrancing! I loved it! An hour and a half in, we were organizing ourselves into groups to address new problems. I don’t know how he did it, but Boingy had laid out the problems in such a way that our organization simply ... emerged ... from it. Like an emergent property arises from chaos.” She looked at the Colonel expecting him to nod understanding. So he nodded again. Satisfied, she continued, “I didn’t think anyone could organize mathematicians. I didn’t think mathematicians could be organized. I don’t understand what happened. I’ve never seen anything like it. But I saw it. It was real. Watching it was exciting. And being part of it. I guess I’d call it ... fun. I was ... well ... happy. But then ... later ... we adjourned. And they all went away. And I was ... normal ... again.”
The Colonel said, “I see.” The appetizers came, and they were both quiet for a few bites. Then the Colonel said, “That’s a team, Dorothy. You’ve never been on a team before?”
Dorothy thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“Well, you’re on one now.”
“I don’t feel like it,” said Dorothy. “I don’t feel like I’m good enough. I’m not smart enough to keep up. These people are brilliant. Any minute now they’ll realize I’m dead weight, holding them back.”
“Oh. I see. You’re an imposter.”
“Exactly! I ... oh ... I ... ” Dorothy trailed off.
“You read the graphic novel,” said the Colonel. “That’s imposter syndrome.”
“What? ... No ... I ... ”
The Colonel held out his hand in a stopping gesture. “Professor Anderson. Dorothy. Hold on a moment. Listen. Please.” He waited for her to focus on him. “What you just described is a good team. Nothing more. Nothing less. A good team makes everyone on the team want to be better ... for the team. A good team pushes and pulls everyone on it to surpass themselves, to be better than they ever thought they could be. You see? That’s what you’re feeling.”
Dorothy looked at him like he was speaking Martian.
He saw utter confusion in her eyes. Then it hit him. “You’ve always been alone.”
She struggled for a word. “Individual ... Individuality ... Not alone ... Well ... Yes ... Mostly alone, but as an individual ... Alone, but not lonely ... ” The moment she said it, she knew it was somehow wrong.
“I know,” he said. “An American rugged individualist.” He shook his head slowly and pursed his lips in disgust. “We have to beat that stupid myth out of new recruits. We show them what it means to belong to a team ... They may say they hate the Army. But they love the team ... The team is closer than family. The team is how they stay alive ... And later, when their tour’s done, they go home ... ” His teeth clenched and his voice grated, “ ... to a country that worships rugged individualism. And pathological independence. And the country expects returning soldier heroes to be towers of individual strength ... And many of those soldiers kill themselves ... And the goddamned rugged individualists wonder why.” The Colonel spat these last words, “They are the reason why.”
Her eyes went wide. She thought he was accusing her. She grasped for something to say. “I’m ... sorry.” She knew it was pathetically inadequate.
“You? ... Oh, no, Dorothy!” The idea suddenly crystalized in his mind. “Not you! You’re not a rugged individualist. Your whole life you’ve been like one of the soldiers who came home ... and found no meaning. You didn’t kill yourself, fortunately ... though I bet you thought about it once or twice. No ... you merely went crazy ... with anger.”
She looked at him like he was starting to make sense.
“And you know, Dorothy ... going crazy was the sane thing to do.”
She looked at him in wonder.
“Humans are designed for teams. We evolved for it ... I guess because it works. Doesn’t matter what for. A football team, a stone-age hunting or gathering party, a product development team, or even a family. You’re not an imposter. You’re a team member now. Most Americans on teams feel strange at first ... like you do. But teams are our greatest joy ... and meaning. And you just joined one. Sounds like a good one.”
The Colonel paused to let it soak in for a bit. Then he added, “You said something about not knowing what you were going to do with your life?”
Dorothy looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Then she stood up, walked around the table to his chair, pulled him up out of it, and hugged him, just like she had hugged her home away from home a couple of weeks before. Her tears of pride were the same. The only difference was that he hugged her back.
With her head pressed into his shoulder she said softly, “Don’t get the wrong idea. This still isn’t a date.”
He smiled, “Of course not.”
Later, while they ate, the Colonel asked, “You mentioned an economics meeting?”
Dorothy nodded while she finished a mouthful. “Yes. I told Boingy about the comments I heard at the homeless shelter. And about my phone calls with the economics professor. He agreed that something revolutionary was in the works. Maybe more revolutionary than everything else. Maybe a whole new economy. And he’s got a team of economics experts and lawyers working on it now. He said he liked my ideas, but that I was about five days late. Turns out Dalton Francis got him working on the same issue five days ago. Dammit, if I hadn’t stopped my meds so fast I’d have beaten Dalton.” She pursed her lips.
The Colonel said, “Professor Anderson, you did beat Dalton. You had the idea a week ago. I wrote it in my notebook. That makes it official. You beat him by two days.”
“That’s very nice of you to point out,” said Dorothy. “I think you just earned another hug.” She smiled.
“I won’t turn it down.”
Over fortune cookies he asked, “What about shields for my men?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Boingy agrees with you. Yet another revolution in the works. They’re working on the shields as fast as they can. And he’s putting together a team of military strategists, historians, diplomats, and international lawyers to figure out how best to use this power. They’ll probably organize several military teams like you suggested. He’ll set up a meeting with you soon. He doesn’t want to create a squad of supermen until he’s met their leader.”