(no subject)
There was a certain air of Hurricane Literacy about Ainsley as she sat under the shadow of the Compound with books surrounding her blanket and varied notes made on scraps of paper that she could find. Even if the bookshelf had a habit of rotating constantly, she still felt some grade-school guilt about ripping out pages of a book only to write on. The librarian had taught her well (or just scared her, which, given Mrs. Merryweather's eyebrows was definitely a viable possibility).
She was surrounded by life, in a manner of speaking. Now that the Island had underwent an adoption, the gears in her head had started to click and whir and turn and they were under the principles of perpetual motion, it seemed.
She couldn't stop thinking about it.
She was thirty-five and would be thirty-six come March. There were no fertility clinics around and hardly any big hospitals with equipment and the thing was, if she ever wanted a child? Well, this was 'the window', so to speak. She just wished thinking about this didn't usually go hand in hand with the quiet 'so this will drive Shadow away?' voice in her head that liked to poke and prod and remind her. It wasn't like that. It was just the process of sperm donation (possibly) and artificial insemination (maybe) and well, it was research. Far be it for her to just ignore the issue at hand without making a good deal of notes.
Except, that little voice was on loop too and she couldn't help feeling a bit guilty for all of this.
She let go of one of the books and relaxed, a weary sigh pushing her back to press against the wall as she stared at books opened to scientific jargon, diagrams, and what seemed almost like an impossibility.
She was surrounded by life, in a manner of speaking. Now that the Island had underwent an adoption, the gears in her head had started to click and whir and turn and they were under the principles of perpetual motion, it seemed.
She couldn't stop thinking about it.
She was thirty-five and would be thirty-six come March. There were no fertility clinics around and hardly any big hospitals with equipment and the thing was, if she ever wanted a child? Well, this was 'the window', so to speak. She just wished thinking about this didn't usually go hand in hand with the quiet 'so this will drive Shadow away?' voice in her head that liked to poke and prod and remind her. It wasn't like that. It was just the process of sperm donation (possibly) and artificial insemination (maybe) and well, it was research. Far be it for her to just ignore the issue at hand without making a good deal of notes.
Except, that little voice was on loop too and she couldn't help feeling a bit guilty for all of this.
She let go of one of the books and relaxed, a weary sigh pushing her back to press against the wall as she stared at books opened to scientific jargon, diagrams, and what seemed almost like an impossibility.