Interview
1: Marisa Mason(Revised Edition)
Author’s Note: This is presented in transcript format. Ideas and
conceptions about the character are still being written. Incongruities may
therefore be found in the final form.
I
sit in a 20x20 room that is lit only by a halogen light above the six foot long
conference table. The walls are nothing special and made of gray concrete. The
floor is an off white giving the rim a dim effect. The only items I have are a
pen and paper. Marisa Mason enters from a door on the far side of the room. She
is wearing a black cardigan and light gray t-shirt underneath. She has on a
dark auburn skirt that hangs just past her knees with a slit up each side.
Underneath her knee high combat boots are neoprene tights. It’s as if she is dressed
to fight or flee at a moment’s notice.
Marisa sets her black fatigue deployment
bag on the floor next to her chair as she sits. Her round face is hidden
beneath a perfectly straight black mane of hair that rests over the shoulders
and down the middle of her back. She has an eggshell white complexion and
electric blue eyes that are complemented by black eye liner and a pair of thick
black framed glasses. Without the glasses she would have a gaze that studied
you, yet looked through you all at once. The appearance of her clothes would
make you think she was concealing a pudgy build. The cardigan itself was two
sizes too big. But in truth, she is athletic. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. The
tips of her blue painted fingernails were chipped. Signs of ferocious typing.
You would almost peg her for a Goth chick. With her hands clasped and
resting on her knees, the interview begins.
ME:
Thank you for taking the time to do this. If you want, let’s skip the
formalities and get right to it. Please state your name and date of birth.
MARISA:
You
know all of that.
ME:
Yes,
but just state it for the record.
MARISA:
It’s
not every day a creator asks the creation to tell them their name and D.O.B.
It’s like meeting God.
ME:
Oh,
so you believe in God?
MARISA: I don't know, you haven't decided yet.
I
pause at this. I’m caught off guard. The notion of arguing with a character who’s
been inside my head for twelve years seems surreal. I question my sanity for a
moment. My own creation has taken on a life of her own. I decide to keep cool and
move forward.
ME:
Ok,
just pretend I don’t know anything about you. This is an interview process. I
just want to be sure if YOU know who you are.
Her
gaze is unwavering. It’s as if she is waiting for me to blink or like she is
studying me. With reluctance she gives in.
MARISA:
Fine.
My name is Marisa Athena Mason. Based on your indecisiveness, I don't have a birth date yet. Fall perhaps? Early eighties? I’m
twenty two years old, so that puts a damper on the time frame of the story. I’m
assuming around 2001-2002 when things take place. Or have you decided yet?
ME:
Still
on the fence.
MARISA:
So
far this interview is as pointless as masturbating with an oven mitt.
I
resist the urge to laugh or even chuckle. Perhaps I’m being too formal. Or
maybe she is just that bored. Who knows? Wait. I do know. She’s screwing with
me? No. She’s exposing a weakness. She knows I don’t know everything. Better to
move on to things I do know.
ME:
Fair
enough. We’ll move on. What’s your occupation?
She
lets out a sigh and looks away. Like in that Geico commercial with the owls.
To
Be Continued…
