Disclaimer: I own nothing. Fringe belongs to J. J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci.
A/N: These drabbles aren't connected and won't be in chronological order.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.Alt-World Astrid
Astrid is not old enough to remember a before
. She doesn’t have a memory of a time when their world wasn’t coming apart at the seams. She has seen pictures, read the data entries – but Astrid never experienced stretches of forests as far as the eye can see (the blight eradicated it when she was a child), readily available fresh fruit (her grandparent’s used to talk of when it wasn’t an expensive, precious commodity – when it was sold cheaply in grocery stores), wildlife running free and wild outside (now the few species that remain are carefully maintained in conservatories).
It all happened before she was born. This is her life, she knows no other way. No other world.
At 16, she was plucked from one of many groups of gifted students that were being tested by the state department. Put through an extensive training process (that was explained to her parents at the time as summer camp) and was behind a computer 7 months later. Shifting through the rapid influx of data from multiple resources all over the country, deciding what was credible, and re-routing it where it needed to go.
Ten years later and she hasn’t left. (The worried calls from family tapered off after the first two years.)
It is hard to think of whether or not she likes or dislikes what she does. Hard to think in those terms anymore. Hard to think of it as a job - after so many years this has simply become her life and it is what it is. A fact in and of itself in a way.
It is necessary work and she is one of the best there is at it. That is something.
Most of the Fringe field agents tend to go to her with their questions because unlike her comrades, she is able to disengage. Can leave the flow of data and return to it smoothly without breaking her concentration. It is something she is proud of. She isn’t normal – she knows that. But Astrid has never been normal (even before she was chosen for this) and at least here she has been given a use.
That’s all she can really ask for in this world.