Hando :: Interview Dialogue Essays

Hando "Is it on?" "Yes, Mr....ah..." "Hando, you can just call me that." "Of course, Hando. Well, just start whenever you’re ready." "I hate being recorded, but we might as well get it over with. I am getting a check for this, right?" "Yes sir. Your story will be a great contribution to the civilization of Zyemlya and a wonderful edition to our magazine. It really is quite remarkable after all." "Yeah, well, whatever. As long as I get my check. Social Security just doesn’t cut it these days. Seems if my story was so remarkable, this ungrateful generation wouldn’t have stuck me in this home, after all I’ve done." "Most have forgotten. Maybe you’ll get the respect you deserve after your story is published." "Maybe. Just maybe." "What exactly is it you did?" "Well, I’ll get to it. You want something to eat? Nothing but hospital food, but what can you do?" "No thank you." "Suit yourself. Let’s see, where to begin. We obviously won the Conflict, since we’re here talking to each other right now. After that victory, there were lots of questions about what to do now. There were only about 4 or 5 hundred of us left. Thousands had died off, most of the population of Zyemlya. They resisted the change. Most of them still couldn’t believe what was going on, even after all that happened. They didn’t actually die; it was more that they faded out with the Being. We all lost loved ones; I lost a sister and a groundhog, but we knew it was necessary to destroy the Being. "We had never had our own world before, our own will, our own lives. The Being had made sure of that. We never really knew exactly what it was, or where it came from, or if it even was an "it." We just knew it was there, and what it was doing. "I’ll take credit for that one though. That was a long time ago, and me with my slipshod memory, I don’t know how well I can recount it all. Now you young whippersnappers come in here and want to scoop out my brains to put in your magazine. The way things work around here, this will probably turn into a half page section in some fifth grader’s textbook. "I guess I’ll start with the dreams. I hadn’t always had them; they started when I was about 16. Hando :: Interview Dialogue Essays Hando "Is it on?" "Yes, Mr....ah..." "Hando, you can just call me that." "Of course, Hando. Well, just start whenever you’re ready." "I hate being recorded, but we might as well get it over with. I am getting a check for this, right?" "Yes sir. Your story will be a great contribution to the civilization of Zyemlya and a wonderful edition to our magazine. It really is quite remarkable after all." "Yeah, well, whatever. As long as I get my check. Social Security just doesn’t cut it these days. Seems if my story was so remarkable, this ungrateful generation wouldn’t have stuck me in this home, after all I’ve done." "Most have forgotten. Maybe you’ll get the respect you deserve after your story is published." "Maybe. Just maybe." "What exactly is it you did?" "Well, I’ll get to it. You want something to eat? Nothing but hospital food, but what can you do?" "No thank you." "Suit yourself. Let’s see, where to begin. We obviously won the Conflict, since we’re here talking to each other right now. After that victory, there were lots of questions about what to do now. There were only about 4 or 5 hundred of us left. Thousands had died off, most of the population of Zyemlya. They resisted the change. Most of them still couldn’t believe what was going on, even after all that happened. They didn’t actually die; it was more that they faded out with the Being. We all lost loved ones; I lost a sister and a groundhog, but we knew it was necessary to destroy the Being. "We had never had our own world before, our own will, our own lives. The Being had made sure of that. We never really knew exactly what it was, or where it came from, or if it even was an "it." We just knew it was there, and what it was doing. "I’ll take credit for that one though. That was a long time ago, and me with my slipshod memory, I don’t know how well I can recount it all. Now you young whippersnappers come in here and want to scoop out my brains to put in your magazine. The way things work around here, this will probably turn into a half page section in some fifth grader’s textbook. "I guess I’ll start with the dreams. I hadn’t always had them; they started when I was about 16.