For lastvoyages: Journal entry [written], physical note and [spam]
[locked to Tony]
Are you well through this flood? I am getting some odd sensations but that is it.
[locked to Charlie]
How are you? I have been fired from the Gardens. I fear you may need to find another person to fill in for some morning shifts.
[locked to Franklin]
You are not going to believe some of the things that are going on.
Please excuse the cover letter. Unfortunately my Warden decided that I would either deliver an apology NOW or suffer some humiliating consequence that generally seems reserved for violent crimes.
You must know how hollow and insulting a forced apology is. Therefore I will offer instead what I was still working on, ironically enough, when my Warden made his ultimatum. It is somewhat rough and informal, but it is at least genuine. And is that not the most important thing in an apology?
*****
[The enclosed note is on torn off drawing paper and has been folded over. The imprint of a previous draft from a page above dimples the paper. It is dated two days ago.]
Dr. Lewis:
I had no idea that you had been tormented in such a manner. I regret deeply having even implied that you might have contributed to what happened to you; it was not my intent to claim you were in any way complicit in your own suffering. I was merely angry and spoke cruelly and thoughtlessly. Had I had any idea that you had been so treated, I would never have attempted debate with you on the topic of my race in the first place. No one deserves such tortures. And apparently the mere reminder has caused you suffering; that was never my intent either. I do not expect your forgiveness, but know that my regret over this matter is real.
I do not know if this helps, but I mean you no harm, and will not seek out your company or correspondence. In doing so I will prove what I have stated. I trust that you will extend me the same courtesy.
--D.
[Late Night Spam]
Gym when no one was there. Library at its quietest. No garden anymore; that had been taken. Solitude and books, journaling, watching the endless drama on the communications net without chiming in. Most of his relationships aboard the Barge he imagined killed in the storm of drama surrounding his brief argument with Rex. Isolating himself had been, to him, the logical response to that realization.
Finally, after the argument with Armand and the forced relinquishment of a letter that still had not been fully ready, he had to make contact with someone. So he left messages with the few friends he knew he still had and were still around. And when staring at the four walls of his room grew too tedious, he finally gave up and went out to the deck, carrying his communicator, finding a dark and quiet spot to look out over the railing and think.
He felt someone approaching--internally, first, with strange sensations in his chest. Someone else's emotions, though he did not know that; half of them were unfamiliar after centuries without. He put a hand to his chest, pale brow creasing in confusion. It was uncomfortable. He was starting to draw away from the source of the discomfort instinctively when he realized that someone was heading toward him from that direction. Wary, tired annoyance warred with the invading emotions for a moment.
Are you well through this flood? I am getting some odd sensations but that is it.
[locked to Charlie]
How are you? I have been fired from the Gardens. I fear you may need to find another person to fill in for some morning shifts.
[locked to Franklin]
You are not going to believe some of the things that are going on.
Please excuse the cover letter. Unfortunately my Warden decided that I would either deliver an apology NOW or suffer some humiliating consequence that generally seems reserved for violent crimes.
You must know how hollow and insulting a forced apology is. Therefore I will offer instead what I was still working on, ironically enough, when my Warden made his ultimatum. It is somewhat rough and informal, but it is at least genuine. And is that not the most important thing in an apology?
*****
[The enclosed note is on torn off drawing paper and has been folded over. The imprint of a previous draft from a page above dimples the paper. It is dated two days ago.]
Dr. Lewis:
I had no idea that you had been tormented in such a manner. I regret deeply having even implied that you might have contributed to what happened to you; it was not my intent to claim you were in any way complicit in your own suffering. I was merely angry and spoke cruelly and thoughtlessly. Had I had any idea that you had been so treated, I would never have attempted debate with you on the topic of my race in the first place. No one deserves such tortures. And apparently the mere reminder has caused you suffering; that was never my intent either. I do not expect your forgiveness, but know that my regret over this matter is real.
I do not know if this helps, but I mean you no harm, and will not seek out your company or correspondence. In doing so I will prove what I have stated. I trust that you will extend me the same courtesy.
--D.
[Late Night Spam]
Gym when no one was there. Library at its quietest. No garden anymore; that had been taken. Solitude and books, journaling, watching the endless drama on the communications net without chiming in. Most of his relationships aboard the Barge he imagined killed in the storm of drama surrounding his brief argument with Rex. Isolating himself had been, to him, the logical response to that realization.
Finally, after the argument with Armand and the forced relinquishment of a letter that still had not been fully ready, he had to make contact with someone. So he left messages with the few friends he knew he still had and were still around. And when staring at the four walls of his room grew too tedious, he finally gave up and went out to the deck, carrying his communicator, finding a dark and quiet spot to look out over the railing and think.
He felt someone approaching--internally, first, with strange sensations in his chest. Someone else's emotions, though he did not know that; half of them were unfamiliar after centuries without. He put a hand to his chest, pale brow creasing in confusion. It was uncomfortable. He was starting to draw away from the source of the discomfort instinctively when he realized that someone was heading toward him from that direction. Wary, tired annoyance warred with the invading emotions for a moment.