Sandra Banks's Questionnaire

Sandra rides her horse past a sign reading "I-59 N" and "Houston: 50 Miles". Sweat drips from her face, running through the remnants of ash, dust and sand that coat her face. It is clear she is not yet used to the humidity that is so present in this part of the state. She looks to the two in her posse, and stares off into the distance, remembering where she had been hours ago, the Kansas area of the new dust bowl. Dry, brittle and sun charred, turning plains and farmland into a mock desert. The land was dying from overproduction. Heading west was her only option, unless she wants to do nothing but sit and treat the symptoms of a dying world.

A roll of dollar bills are shown before being tossed into a small fire. Money doesn't mean much to the people in this part of the world after the blackout, other than a way to keep you warm. Bills are worth their weight in paper, and sometimes not even that. Coins are worth more if you are willing to scrape the coating off yourself. Instead, her surgical and chemical knowledge and actions are how she earns her keep, trading directly for food and services by working and treating the sick and injured. Everything in her pack is just another tool for survival.

I was 16 when the lights went out. My parents were out partying for the new year. The new millennium. I was at home, watching the broadcast in New York. At the stroke of midnight, the world changed. The sick couldn’t have their medicine. The injured couldn’t get life saving medical treatment. Millions died because our lifelines were cut. I was lucky to make my way to North Star. I was good at sports med, science and chemistry, and made them take me in and teach me how to help. My parents begged me to come home, but I was actively helping people a little at a time. And I knew I wanted to make a place where everyone could get the help they wanted, no, needed. When I needed help, they were there for me too, and it only further cemented my goal further.

When I was a little older than 20, I was on a supply run, I was kidnapped and held hostage by a gang of raiders. Well, I was always foul mouthed, hard headed, and too willing to fight. So they… tortured me to put it lightly. Carved through my cheeks and cut out my tongue. I was broken by the time North Star came for us. They took me back, and set my face to heal in a way that was most comfortable. They brought me into their profe ranks, and they even learned sign to teach me so I could communicate. 

And eventually I earned my tattoos. That was probably the most meaningful point of my life.

Dr. Tamyra Silva: Sandra’s Mentor in medicine, teaching her how to make use of her existing chemical knowledge and teaching her how to produce simple and complex herbal and chemical treatments. Vouched for her to receive her informal Doctorate. She is also one of North Star’s council members, and one of their most vetted members.

Anna Robinson: Sandra’s childhood friend and the person she ran to North Star with. She is extremely perceptive and soft spoken, preferring rather to wait and watch than to speak brashly. While Sandra specialized in chemical medicine and field surgery, Anna became a very skilled data analyst. They were close before Sandra left to go south. Though Sandra never really got to learn what Anna’s true specialization was behind her cover.

Mason Currie: Several years her senior, Currie taught Sandra ASL, as North Star, no longer having power, couldn’t support his specialization as a radiologist, and thus continued to work as a sign interpreter.

I was a fairly smart kid, who did well in science classes, but it never caused me any undue social problems. I just happen to be a smart girl. It was my attitude that got me into the most situations. My foul mouth pissed off many a person in school, both students and teachers alike. Sneaking chemicals from classrooms to work in my own personal experiments, that usually ended in disaster. My parents were kind enough, always encouraging me to make them proud. Which they were, with my intelligence, but they were also incredibly upset with my behavior, like trying to scold and reprimand a fire for burning hot and bright, as if one could exist without the other. All work and no play made a very intelligent and very destructive child. And the stronger they desperately tried to control me, the more I fought back, in public and in secret.

Romance isn’t really something I ever actively sought out. I’ve just never had the time for it, it was all either school or causing mayhem with my friends, especially my best friend ant the time, Anna. She was always rather uptight, so getting her to let loose was always the best part of any week. 

But regardless, no, romance isn’t something I have an interest in. It seems like too much work for something people can easily get with their close friends. Doesn’t seem like my thing regardless of how much my parents seemed to want it and yet also be relieved that I didn’t go out with anyone.