Fragments
Writing again
I'm actually happy with this ^__^
2035-May-29/226 Cancer 15
When all the excitement had died down, the medical people left Merete
and her daughter alone, murmuring congratulations as the left.
Well, not completely alone.
The room had cleared, leaving them with the distinguished gentleman who
had been standing unobtrusively in the corner. Mette was smiling tiredly
down at her drowsing, minutes-old daughter when he crossed the room
and gently embraced the both. "Auguste, what are you-" He cut her off
with a soft kiss.
"Did you think I would miss this?" Auguste settled on the side of the bed,
his arms still around them.
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough. Your mother called me two days ago and told me I should
get here, now. How she knew is anyone's guess."
"Mommy magic," Mete smiled. "Actually, the doctors here are usually good
about getting the due date right. In fact, I don't think Dr. Vivres has been
wrong yet." She laid her head against his shoulder. "But to get here, you
must have had to cancel-"
"-Nothing as important as being here to welcome my daughter into the world."
He ran a finger down her tiny cheek. "Does she have a name yet?"
"What's your mother's name?" Mete tilted her head up to look at him.
"My mother? Diana, why?"
"It's family tradition. Diana Magdalene Constantinescu. What do you think?"
"I think it's longer than she is right now."
"She'll grow into it."
---
2048
The soft beginning barely registered in her sleeping mind. The first
loud lyrics, however, did.
Despite her exhaustion and the gravity bearing done on her, Diana
bolted upright. "What is that?"
"Chumbawamba," her roommate replied calmly as Diana brought her
nerves firmly back in line.
"It's horrible." Diana let her head fall back on the pillow, not even trying
to figure out the strange word coming out of the strange American's
mouth. Not understanding Elisa was already a common occurrence, and
she'd only been here a week.
"It's retro." Elisa bounced on the bed. "You're up now!"
"No, I'm not." She pulled the blankets over her head.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Elisa bounced over to Diana's dresser and tossed
some clothes on top of her.
"Ellie, it's Saturni, Saturday. Nothing happens today, and I'm tired. You
may be used to this gravity, but I'm not."
Elisa peaked under the blankets to look at Diana. "That's why I'm getting
you out of here. I know just what you need to do."
**
"It's broke? How can it be broke?" Elisa wailed. Diana hoped she would
outgrow that.
"Simple," the repair man replied. "The doohickey fried the whatsit,
which broke the whachamacallit, making it impossible for the thingamabob
to do its job." He was tired of teenagers wailing, as if it was his fault the
mutter-grumble thing was down.
"Just, play that one." Diana gestured vaguely to the one next to it,
before slumping down with her back against its side panel. She tucked
her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them.
"But, /Cybernetic Mermaid Warriors vs. the Power Rangers/ is my
favorite," Elisa grumbled, but she started playing anyway. "Y'know,
this is a two-player game."
"I'll sit this one out," Diana replied, her eyes closed. "I've been good
so far, haven't I?"
"I suppose." Some instinct prompted Diana to extend her arms, just
in time for the flying part to fall into her cupped hands. It was a small
cube, maybe a half a millimeter wide.
"Hey, nice catch, kid." The repair man was clearly impressed.
"What's wrong with it?" Diana asked.
"I told you, kid, the doohickey -- alright, alright." He chuckled at
the look Di was sending him and knelt next to her. "That piece you
have in your hand? A power surge fried the circuits in it."
Diana brought it up and examined it closely for a minute or so, humming
a song fragment. "I don't see anything wrong with it."
"Of course you don't, all the circuits are inside it, and microscopic besides.
That means-" he started, patronizingly.
"I know what microscopic means," she interrupted coldly.
"Woah, sorry, kid." He reached for a diagnostic. "Anyway, you need one
of these," he held up the tool, "to tell. I just hook it up, here, and. . . huh."
The LEDs blinked green. "Whad'ya know." He tested a few more parts, then
put the game back together and turned it on. "Whad'ya know," he repeated.
The game was working fine.
"Excuse me," a large man with a deep voice and even darker skin spoke up
behind her. "I think you need to come with me."
He was looking straight at Diana.
--
2061
/A woman in trouble should always where blue./ That bit of Martian
superstition ran through Diana's head as she looked in the mirror. She
was conservative in jewel tones for once, sapphire trimmed in amethyst.
(But then, parents tend to look in askance at a teacher in gypsy skirts
and lime-green tanks.) If Parent-Teacher conferences didn't count as
trouble, Di didn't know what did. So today she wore a knee-length
tunic and black slacks.
She put the finishing touches to her make-up and turned her attention
to her hair. Lemon yellow was fun, but didn’t quite go with the day's mood.
/Purple, I think./ A breath of thought and a soft song, and she began
replacing the yellow. She was halfway done before she realized what color
she had actually chosen. Purple was a rare color on Chara, dedicated to the
spirits, and the soft, greyed purple was reserved for the Lady, and for
mourning. She finished automatically and pulled her hair up in a complicated
twist. No one else should recognize the significance.
Four years for Sacha, almost six for Michael and Jayce. Some days it didn't
seem nearly that long. Others, it seemed much longer. Memories fade and
swirl, leaving only impressions and a few, bright moments.
Diana sighed. If she was this maudlin, she could only imagine how Devon
was getting along. She sent a thought to whoever might be listening,
/let this raid be productive./ Devon needed that distraction.
***
The picture had been moved, and that look was in his eyes again. Diana
collapsed softly into the chair behind her desk to attempt once more to
finish off the paperwork on her desk before practice. Her mind kept coming
back to Devon, and the look when he answered the door. She had come to
hate that look.
She took a sip of the tea on her desk - cold, bleargh - and closed her
eyes. She couldn't remember why she had stopped by that night, but
she remembered taking that picture. Michael's eyes had begun to dance
when she picked up the old-fashioned camera on the table, but he
hadn't let it distract him.
The AI chimed a question.
"Yes, I saw," she replied, not bothering to open her eyes. She sang, softly,
"but when the nights get cold and the leaves turn rust and gold." Another
sigh. "It's that time of year again. This new /jerin/ will help." A deep
breath. "I'll figure something out."
"Show-off," she had called Devon, fondly, after she had taken the picture.
He had laughed, and they had startled Jayce, but it had been worth it.
Especially now, when he needed those reminders most.
An inappropriate thought flit through her head. She had to giggle. The AI
chimed again. "Hmm. . . I was just thinking. . . Kissing him senseless would
probably help his mood," Dianna told it, "but we don't have time for that
before practice. Well," she giggled again, "we probably have time for
that, just not. . . oh, never mind. Gravity's getting to me again."
That probably was it, when she thought about it. She'd been Earth-bound
too long. She thought a moment, then typed in a couple commands.
She was off next Monday for some random holiday. She could
probably finagle a com watch on the Company's mail shuttle. She'd have
lunch with her grandparents, and be back for dinner. That would work.
She was still smiling as she turned to the tests.
Amie-chan, any chance that you have the time to review a character application for me?
edited because I was goofy enough to misspell Amie's name. Gomen nasai!
I'm actually happy with this ^__^
2035-May-29/226 Cancer 15
When all the excitement had died down, the medical people left Merete
and her daughter alone, murmuring congratulations as the left.
Well, not completely alone.
The room had cleared, leaving them with the distinguished gentleman who
had been standing unobtrusively in the corner. Mette was smiling tiredly
down at her drowsing, minutes-old daughter when he crossed the room
and gently embraced the both. "Auguste, what are you-" He cut her off
with a soft kiss.
"Did you think I would miss this?" Auguste settled on the side of the bed,
his arms still around them.
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough. Your mother called me two days ago and told me I should
get here, now. How she knew is anyone's guess."
"Mommy magic," Mete smiled. "Actually, the doctors here are usually good
about getting the due date right. In fact, I don't think Dr. Vivres has been
wrong yet." She laid her head against his shoulder. "But to get here, you
must have had to cancel-"
"-Nothing as important as being here to welcome my daughter into the world."
He ran a finger down her tiny cheek. "Does she have a name yet?"
"What's your mother's name?" Mete tilted her head up to look at him.
"My mother? Diana, why?"
"It's family tradition. Diana Magdalene Constantinescu. What do you think?"
"I think it's longer than she is right now."
"She'll grow into it."
---
2048
The soft beginning barely registered in her sleeping mind. The first
loud lyrics, however, did.
Despite her exhaustion and the gravity bearing done on her, Diana
bolted upright. "What is that?"
"Chumbawamba," her roommate replied calmly as Diana brought her
nerves firmly back in line.
"It's horrible." Diana let her head fall back on the pillow, not even trying
to figure out the strange word coming out of the strange American's
mouth. Not understanding Elisa was already a common occurrence, and
she'd only been here a week.
"It's retro." Elisa bounced on the bed. "You're up now!"
"No, I'm not." She pulled the blankets over her head.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Elisa bounced over to Diana's dresser and tossed
some clothes on top of her.
"Ellie, it's Saturni, Saturday. Nothing happens today, and I'm tired. You
may be used to this gravity, but I'm not."
Elisa peaked under the blankets to look at Diana. "That's why I'm getting
you out of here. I know just what you need to do."
**
"It's broke? How can it be broke?" Elisa wailed. Diana hoped she would
outgrow that.
"Simple," the repair man replied. "The doohickey fried the whatsit,
which broke the whachamacallit, making it impossible for the thingamabob
to do its job." He was tired of teenagers wailing, as if it was his fault the
mutter-grumble thing was down.
"Just, play that one." Diana gestured vaguely to the one next to it,
before slumping down with her back against its side panel. She tucked
her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them.
"But, /Cybernetic Mermaid Warriors vs. the Power Rangers/ is my
favorite," Elisa grumbled, but she started playing anyway. "Y'know,
this is a two-player game."
"I'll sit this one out," Diana replied, her eyes closed. "I've been good
so far, haven't I?"
"I suppose." Some instinct prompted Diana to extend her arms, just
in time for the flying part to fall into her cupped hands. It was a small
cube, maybe a half a millimeter wide.
"Hey, nice catch, kid." The repair man was clearly impressed.
"What's wrong with it?" Diana asked.
"I told you, kid, the doohickey -- alright, alright." He chuckled at
the look Di was sending him and knelt next to her. "That piece you
have in your hand? A power surge fried the circuits in it."
Diana brought it up and examined it closely for a minute or so, humming
a song fragment. "I don't see anything wrong with it."
"Of course you don't, all the circuits are inside it, and microscopic besides.
That means-" he started, patronizingly.
"I know what microscopic means," she interrupted coldly.
"Woah, sorry, kid." He reached for a diagnostic. "Anyway, you need one
of these," he held up the tool, "to tell. I just hook it up, here, and. . . huh."
The LEDs blinked green. "Whad'ya know." He tested a few more parts, then
put the game back together and turned it on. "Whad'ya know," he repeated.
The game was working fine.
"Excuse me," a large man with a deep voice and even darker skin spoke up
behind her. "I think you need to come with me."
He was looking straight at Diana.
--
2061
/A woman in trouble should always where blue./ That bit of Martian
superstition ran through Diana's head as she looked in the mirror. She
was conservative in jewel tones for once, sapphire trimmed in amethyst.
(But then, parents tend to look in askance at a teacher in gypsy skirts
and lime-green tanks.) If Parent-Teacher conferences didn't count as
trouble, Di didn't know what did. So today she wore a knee-length
tunic and black slacks.
She put the finishing touches to her make-up and turned her attention
to her hair. Lemon yellow was fun, but didn’t quite go with the day's mood.
/Purple, I think./ A breath of thought and a soft song, and she began
replacing the yellow. She was halfway done before she realized what color
she had actually chosen. Purple was a rare color on Chara, dedicated to the
spirits, and the soft, greyed purple was reserved for the Lady, and for
mourning. She finished automatically and pulled her hair up in a complicated
twist. No one else should recognize the significance.
Four years for Sacha, almost six for Michael and Jayce. Some days it didn't
seem nearly that long. Others, it seemed much longer. Memories fade and
swirl, leaving only impressions and a few, bright moments.
Diana sighed. If she was this maudlin, she could only imagine how Devon
was getting along. She sent a thought to whoever might be listening,
/let this raid be productive./ Devon needed that distraction.
***
The picture had been moved, and that look was in his eyes again. Diana
collapsed softly into the chair behind her desk to attempt once more to
finish off the paperwork on her desk before practice. Her mind kept coming
back to Devon, and the look when he answered the door. She had come to
hate that look.
She took a sip of the tea on her desk - cold, bleargh - and closed her
eyes. She couldn't remember why she had stopped by that night, but
she remembered taking that picture. Michael's eyes had begun to dance
when she picked up the old-fashioned camera on the table, but he
hadn't let it distract him.
The AI chimed a question.
"Yes, I saw," she replied, not bothering to open her eyes. She sang, softly,
"but when the nights get cold and the leaves turn rust and gold." Another
sigh. "It's that time of year again. This new /jerin/ will help." A deep
breath. "I'll figure something out."
"Show-off," she had called Devon, fondly, after she had taken the picture.
He had laughed, and they had startled Jayce, but it had been worth it.
Especially now, when he needed those reminders most.
An inappropriate thought flit through her head. She had to giggle. The AI
chimed again. "Hmm. . . I was just thinking. . . Kissing him senseless would
probably help his mood," Dianna told it, "but we don't have time for that
before practice. Well," she giggled again, "we probably have time for
that, just not. . . oh, never mind. Gravity's getting to me again."
That probably was it, when she thought about it. She'd been Earth-bound
too long. She thought a moment, then typed in a couple commands.
She was off next Monday for some random holiday. She could
probably finagle a com watch on the Company's mail shuttle. She'd have
lunch with her grandparents, and be back for dinner. That would work.
She was still smiling as she turned to the tests.
Amie-chan, any chance that you have the time to review a character application for me?
edited because I was goofy enough to misspell Amie's name. Gomen nasai!