McNulty, J, Sgt: shit
Mason, E, LT 2nd: what
McNulty, J, Sgt: I was just thinking now it will be a real crusher if they shoot u 2morrow
Mason, E, LT 2nd: …
Mason, E, LT 2nd: :(
Well, this is attempt #18 at writing back, so I guess I’ve got you beat.
I’m ok. I’ve been on the Alexander since Kerenza fell. The UTA recruited me when I hit eighteen.
I’m flying cyclones now, if you can believe that. Shows you how short-manned they are if they’ve got me droning a fighter stick. I guess I finally made it off world, huh? Probably not what you had in mind …
You might wanna be careful with the intel training. If they’ve got you doing any neurogramming, the UTA might conscript you too. They’re way short-handed over here since the hits they took at Kerenza. One of the pulse missile hits X-ed out, like, three quarters of the NG guys. Might be hard to keep avoiding me if we’re living in each other’s pockets. :P
Anyway, I gotta go. Got this meeting thing coming up. Guy here to talk about it.
It’s chill to hear from you though. Real chill.
Ezra
PS: Um, the drunken keyboard face mail? Totally not me. One of my squaddies got onto my terminal. He thought it’d be funny. Really sorry about that.
PPS: Seriously. Not me.
PPPS: SERIOUSLY.
But thanks for messaging back. Everybody here is talking about the Cyclone pilots. They put out a PIR about how you all rescued the shuttles from the Copernicus. What’s it like to be a hero? I guess your meeting is getting measured for medals, right? Anyway, what was facing down the Lincoln like? And the rescue? It seems kind of weird that the Lincoln could just come out of nowhere like that. How did it all happen? Also, my friend here is wondering about the survivor lists becauseASDLKDGFKNDFGJBE MORE SUBTLE KADY LIKE A BRICK WHY DON’T YOU?
DISCARD
SYSTEM FLUSH They do have me in the neurogramming program, but I don’t like the sound of those odds. Time for a career change, if only I had a choice.
I’d be okay, coming over to the Alexander, to be honest. I bet you guys have more information than us. You’re the military, you have a whole intelligence wing, right? Then again, if what they’re saying is true, the Lincoln snuck right up on us. Is that what really happened?
Anyway, the Alexander would be okay. My quarters here aren’t with anyone I knew back on Kerenza, and even if everybody went through the same thing with the evac, it’s still … I don’t want to say lonely, because that sounds so ungrateful. We’re the ones that got out.
I know things didn’t end well, but I think if the attack hadn’t come maybe we’d have found some way to at least still be friends. And you know, maybe … A year together can’t mean nothing. I thought
DISCARD
SYSTEM FLUSH Subject: It’s dark in here
Date: 07/20/75 We’re back doing group counseling again. I’m back doing group counseling again. ME. I mean, I don’t even. After all the effort I put into getting out of this the first time.
But they’ve decided we are all super traumatized by the Copernicus, and reconvened the groups they had running after the rescue. The latest round of talking (or not) about our feelings led our group leader to conclude maybe some of us are more forthcoming than others when it comes to sharing the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves.
Being the astute creature she is, she spent ten minutes I’m never getting back pointing out that just because we don’t talk about our feelings, doesn’t mean we don’t have them.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
I guess she was looking at me on that one. I haven’t slept properly since it happened, and I keep waking up at night wondering … bad things. I just don’t think talking about it to a group of worried faces is the way to help me.
I hate the crying the most. It just creeps up on you out of nowhere, and suddenly you’re in the middle of doing something and you realize your goddamn eyes are wet again and you don’t know how it happened. And the last—the LAST—thing you want is for anyone to notice, because next thing they’re cooing and clucking over you, and they want you to talk, and it’s more than I can take.
I have my mom’s voice ringing in my ears, though, so I am trudging along dutifully to these stupid group discussions, even though it’s pointless.
I haven’t kept a journal since I was a kid, filling it with all the secrets of the universe, the suckitude of my parents moving me to a hideous hunk of rock like Kerenza, the total angst of it all that I’d give anything to get back. It worked, though. Writing it down stopped me saying it when I shouldn’t, and over time the problems faded away. My present problems aren’t going anywhere, but maybe the Return Of The Journal will stop my head exploding.
This thing is locked down under the kind of privacy protections even Byron couldn’t crack. And if anyone reads it, I’m going to devote my life to finding a way to program every bathroom door on the Hypatia to refuse to recognize their ID. Actually, I think I could do that. BEWARE, SNOOPER.
So, a journal. I appreciate that they’re trying to help with the group sessions, but they’re scientists, not therapists. You can’t run people through a quick training session and then have them host a bunch of traumatized survivors sitting in a circle and trying to talk it out.
My group leader says it’s important to talk about my FEELINGS. I am stone-hearted and have none, of course.
Well, that’s not true. Most people would say I’m pretty cold, but I think of it more as … private. People are always saying “how are you?” to each other, and I guess I just don’t see why I should answer such a personal question for just anyone.
Mason, E, LT 2nd: what
McNulty, J, Sgt: I was just thinking now it will be a real crusher if they shoot u 2morrow
Mason, E, LT 2nd: …
Mason, E, LT 2nd: :(
Well, this is attempt #18 at writing back, so I guess I’ve got you beat.
I’m ok. I’ve been on the Alexander since Kerenza fell. The UTA recruited me when I hit eighteen.
I’m flying cyclones now, if you can believe that. Shows you how short-manned they are if they’ve got me droning a fighter stick. I guess I finally made it off world, huh? Probably not what you had in mind …
You might wanna be careful with the intel training. If they’ve got you doing any neurogramming, the UTA might conscript you too. They’re way short-handed over here since the hits they took at Kerenza. One of the pulse missile hits X-ed out, like, three quarters of the NG guys. Might be hard to keep avoiding me if we’re living in each other’s pockets. :P
Anyway, I gotta go. Got this meeting thing coming up. Guy here to talk about it.
It’s chill to hear from you though. Real chill.
Ezra
PS: Um, the drunken keyboard face mail? Totally not me. One of my squaddies got onto my terminal. He thought it’d be funny. Really sorry about that.
PPS: Seriously. Not me.
PPPS: SERIOUSLY.
But thanks for messaging back. Everybody here is talking about the Cyclone pilots. They put out a PIR about how you all rescued the shuttles from the Copernicus. What’s it like to be a hero? I guess your meeting is getting measured for medals, right? Anyway, what was facing down the Lincoln like? And the rescue? It seems kind of weird that the Lincoln could just come out of nowhere like that. How did it all happen? Also, my friend here is wondering about the survivor lists becauseASDLKDGFKNDFGJBE MORE SUBTLE KADY LIKE A BRICK WHY DON’T YOU?
DISCARD
SYSTEM FLUSH They do have me in the neurogramming program, but I don’t like the sound of those odds. Time for a career change, if only I had a choice.
I’d be okay, coming over to the Alexander, to be honest. I bet you guys have more information than us. You’re the military, you have a whole intelligence wing, right? Then again, if what they’re saying is true, the Lincoln snuck right up on us. Is that what really happened?
Anyway, the Alexander would be okay. My quarters here aren’t with anyone I knew back on Kerenza, and even if everybody went through the same thing with the evac, it’s still … I don’t want to say lonely, because that sounds so ungrateful. We’re the ones that got out.
I know things didn’t end well, but I think if the attack hadn’t come maybe we’d have found some way to at least still be friends. And you know, maybe … A year together can’t mean nothing. I thought
DISCARD
SYSTEM FLUSH Subject: It’s dark in here
Date: 07/20/75 We’re back doing group counseling again. I’m back doing group counseling again. ME. I mean, I don’t even. After all the effort I put into getting out of this the first time.
But they’ve decided we are all super traumatized by the Copernicus, and reconvened the groups they had running after the rescue. The latest round of talking (or not) about our feelings led our group leader to conclude maybe some of us are more forthcoming than others when it comes to sharing the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves.
Being the astute creature she is, she spent ten minutes I’m never getting back pointing out that just because we don’t talk about our feelings, doesn’t mean we don’t have them.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
I guess she was looking at me on that one. I haven’t slept properly since it happened, and I keep waking up at night wondering … bad things. I just don’t think talking about it to a group of worried faces is the way to help me.
I hate the crying the most. It just creeps up on you out of nowhere, and suddenly you’re in the middle of doing something and you realize your goddamn eyes are wet again and you don’t know how it happened. And the last—the LAST—thing you want is for anyone to notice, because next thing they’re cooing and clucking over you, and they want you to talk, and it’s more than I can take.
I have my mom’s voice ringing in my ears, though, so I am trudging along dutifully to these stupid group discussions, even though it’s pointless.
I haven’t kept a journal since I was a kid, filling it with all the secrets of the universe, the suckitude of my parents moving me to a hideous hunk of rock like Kerenza, the total angst of it all that I’d give anything to get back. It worked, though. Writing it down stopped me saying it when I shouldn’t, and over time the problems faded away. My present problems aren’t going anywhere, but maybe the Return Of The Journal will stop my head exploding.
This thing is locked down under the kind of privacy protections even Byron couldn’t crack. And if anyone reads it, I’m going to devote my life to finding a way to program every bathroom door on the Hypatia to refuse to recognize their ID. Actually, I think I could do that. BEWARE, SNOOPER.
So, a journal. I appreciate that they’re trying to help with the group sessions, but they’re scientists, not therapists. You can’t run people through a quick training session and then have them host a bunch of traumatized survivors sitting in a circle and trying to talk it out.
My group leader says it’s important to talk about my FEELINGS. I am stone-hearted and have none, of course.
Well, that’s not true. Most people would say I’m pretty cold, but I think of it more as … private. People are always saying “how are you?” to each other, and I guess I just don’t see why I should answer such a personal question for just anyone.
