Francesca Morten's Questionnaire

I live in Seattle. It’s my place of work. Sometimes I travel to other cities or places to transport goods. I don’t ask questions, I just drive.

The apartment I live in is central downtown Seattle on the 31st floor. The windows are facing northeast, allowing morning sun to shine in. Inconvenient when I work a night shift, but it’s cloudy and rainy most days so I don’t usually need to deal with that.

Inside my home, it is pre-furnished by the leasing agency. Basic, modern furniture. None of that “live, laugh, love” knit-knacks that a soccer mom would get from Hobby Lobby would be found here. The walls are bare, though I would mind hanging up some tasteful art, one day. 

I am currently employed by an unknown organization through cash given under the table. My job is to drive from point A to point B and deliver the goods intact. I don’t ask questions about who I work for or any specifics about the job unless pertinent to complete it. It could be blood money, for all I know, but cash is cash. 

Right now, the money is being spent on rent, food, and sending it to my sick cousin. They have a life-long illness that requires a lot of money for the medicine and treatment to keep them alive. 

The pharmaceutical industry sickens me. It all comes down to profits, margins, and what shareholders think. I wish to taken them down to make room for a better system, one that would take care of the people who rely on the medications and treatments to survive. This is an injustice that I cannot abide by. My cousin is personally affected and they do not deserve this. No one deserves to feel so helpless and at the mercy of faceless people who are looking to add to their horde of money. I would kill for this. I would kill for a better future for my cousin. I would die if it meant taking down the billionaires behind the scam that is the pharmaceutical industry. 

The most defining event I experienced before signing The Contract was witnessing the collection agency come after my aunt after failing to pay for the absurd medical bill from my cousin (her daughter’s) hospital stay. I didn’t believe that anyone would actually send muscle to collect money for a life-saving treatment. It should have been written off. The lack of empathy and the lack of humanity solidified my ideals against big pharma and any and all billionaires behind the scenes looking to keep things the same corrupted way that they are. This is how I got into the career that I currently have as a transporter. I work for (seemingly) a group that look to manufacture and distribute drugs of all sorts to anyone who is willing to go into the shadows for them.

Cousin— Juniper

Aunt— Susan

Uncle— Ben

Juniper is my cousin. She is my age and we grew up together in Seattle. After my parents died, I moved in with her and my Aunt and Uncle. Juniper was always a meek and frail girl, not really up for doing much when it came to physical activity. Her illness developed around the time we turned 8 years old. It feels like she’s always in and out of the hospital for treatments. She enjoys baking and playing Animal Crossing. Aunt Susan and Uncle Ben were a bit absent when it came to parenting me. It’s understandable since Junie needed so much attention with her condition. I picked up and helped where I could, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit resentful towards them for it. 

The three of them all have dark hair. Junie has green eyes and is fairly skinny. Susan is mildly overweight and seems to always look tired. Uncle Ben looks like a man who bodybuilds but has a thick layer of fat rounding out his silhouette.