Date: June 14, 2440 Time: 1:00 PM CST
Location: Mexico City, Rodriguez en Vivo Studios
The set was bright and sun-warmed, deliberately styled with earth tones and brickwork meant to echo the city beyond. Mexico City’s restless hum seeped faintly through the walls, but inside the studio the air was hushed, expectant. Miguel Rodriguez — a household name across Mexico, known for his warmth and wit — leaned forward in his chair and smiled into the camera.
“Buenas tardes, Mexico. This is Miguel Rodriguez, and with me today is someone who has already captured headlines across the world. But today — she speaks to us alone. Señora T’mari Th’ron Marmaduke, High Lady of the V’ren. Bienvenida a México.”
T’mari inclined her head gracefully, her green skin catching the lights in a way the cameras adored. “Gracias, Miguel. Me siento bienvenido aquí.” Her accent was careful, her smirk faintly mischievous.
Miguel raised his brows. “Ah — you speak Spanish?”
“Not well, not yet,” she confessed. “But I am a communications specialist, and not only in the technical sense. When Matthew told me we would be coming to Mexico, I did my best to learn. And—” she lifted a slim crystalline case onto the desk, clicking it open with a soft chime, “—I brought a gift.”
Inside gleamed two crystalline earbuds. Rows more were nestled neatly in their slots.
“These are real-time translators of my design. If we both insert one, you may speak Spanish and I will speak V’ren. The device bridges us.”
Miguel chuckled as he plucked one free. “If this works, it may be the easiest interview of my career.”
“It will,” T’mari assured him, fitting the other bud into her ear. “This model translates V’ren and fourteen Earth languages. Version two will integrate directly with your devices, but these are safe to share. I have already given a case to your producers, staff, and executives. Another will remain here with our embassy team — a mix of Matthew’s human staff and several dozen V’ren — so that everyone can communicate freely. Later this month, the first 250,000 units will go on sale through Amazon.”
Miguel gave the camera a meaningful look. “So Mexico receives not only your words, but your technology.”
“Partnership begins with communication,” she said simply.
Miguel leaned forward, intrigued. “Besides diplomacy, what inspired you to learn Spanish?”
T’mari’s smile softened. “Professional reasons, of course. Many migrant laborers in the Freehold speak Spanish, and some have become full-time residents. I want them to feel welcomed, not forced to adapt alone. And…” her lips curved with humor, “on a recent trip to Columbus, we visited a small family-run Mexican restaurant. The menu was only in Spanish. Matthew ordered without hesitation, and I realized I wanted to know exactly what he was choosing for me. It was perfect. And yes,” she added with a laugh, “I’m becoming something of a foodie.”
Miguel grinned. “Mexico is a good place for that. May you always eat until your heart is content.” He flipped his note card but kept his gaze on her. “Your husband is addressing the agribusiness conference this afternoon — why not attend at his side?”
“Because it is his domain,” T’mari replied without hesitation. “Matthew has half a dozen V’ren agronomists with him today who know the subject in depth. He doesn’t need me standing beside him to talk crop yields, shipping corridors, and grain futures. My role is different. This morning is about diplomacy, about communication, about showing Mexico and the world that I am not only a shadow behind Matthew, but a partner with responsibilities of my own. If people remember that, I will be satisfied.”
Miguel nodded slowly. “We were told you will remain in Mexico for three days, though this is your only media appearance. What else is planned?”
“Tonight,” she said, “we will attend the quinceañera of Governor Rodriguez’s granddaughter, Theresa. Tomorrow, we will see a wrestling match in the afternoon and attend a fundraiser for the university in the evening. On our final day, Matthew has promised we will visit cultural sites and sample regional foods — moles, tacos, and perhaps pulque.”
Miguel’s grin widened. “You know how to win Mexican hearts.”
“I know how to listen,” T’mari said softly. “Food, language, music — these are not decorations. They are bonds. I want my people to learn this, as I learn it.”
Miguel set his note cards aside. “The world has seen you as a symbol beside Matthew. Today, Mexico sees you alone. What do you want us to remember from this conversation?”
T’mari glanced at the translator case before looking back at him. “That partnership is not built only in treaties or headlines. It is built in shared meals, in shared tools, in the willingness to understand each other. The V’ren are not here to stand apart. We are here to become part of Earth.”
For a moment, even Miguel Rodriguez — whose career was built on words — simply nodded.
“Señora Marmaduke,” he said at last, his voice quieter, “muchas gracias.”
“Gracias a usted,” she replied.
