Authors: Ed Hyde
“Yes, true, but those spots are hard to come by, and from what I hear we would have a hard time saving up anything at their level of compensation…”
“Ah, but I hear there’s an opening for a new dean…”
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Carol and I have made it official and have seriously begun a list of wants and needs. You know, a list with qualifiers like: must-have, would-like-to-have, could-take-it-or-leave-it, definitely-don’t-want, and like that. For my part, my number one wish is for some way, ground based or not, that we can stay together and work towards our shared vision.
I learn more about Tom’s last job—the testing job—from talking to Mom and cousin Jared. He signed up to test an advanced version of the artificial skin, like we saw Gleshert use on the mission, but in an open space environment. Not sure what that means. The few messages that he sent relating directly to the testing seem to indicate a degree of success. It does nothing much to clarify his last message, sadly.
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Jared is off and gone now. He left soon after the trial was over. Mom has decided to stay here at the apartment as long as she can manage it. We know that we are welcome here now, and after she’s gone too. Mom makes a point of that. Well, it’s on the table, but I know Carol and I both would like something out of the city; out of any city.
I find myself thinking a lot about the mission. Not
so much about David, Brachus or his misadventures, or even most of the rest of the
crew. I think about the people there mostly, and
Dylan too. I think about the gorgeous planet they
have to tame, to use, to develop. I think about their
learning, step by step, how to grapple with their
surroundings and each other. I wonder that they
will have to stumble upon the same truths as every
other civilization, and will have to make the same
mistakes.
I wonder if they think about us and our interactions
during our time there. Whether David’s genetic
meddling will pay off or not, who knows? The
populations when we arrived, as David said himself, met or exceeded expectation. I can only
hope that we gave them something to think
about—a standard toward which to strive. Was our
intent understood? Did it spread like we hoped? Did they get the message that there’s hope for a
better life in the future? It would be nice to think
that when we do return, we will be able to meet
with them on equal terms and to welcome them
into the wider universe of civilization.
Oh, an important note to follow up on my last
entry. The delivery that arrived at Mom’s for me
was a crate that contained the remainder of my
personal things from the ship. I went through them
with Carol. However, the bulk of the crate’s
contents consisted of three unexpected items—
metal cases with handles, dented, with red grit still
visible in the seams and scratches, along with a
dirty cloth bundle, wrapped up tight. Someone had
attached a tag to one of the cases’ handles which
read:
Shipley: these were unlabeled but were
uploaded during your last mission using your ID number and never picked up
I made sure Carol was with me when I opened
them. We sat down in stunned silence as we let the
reality of what we were looking at sink in. There
were, as you may imagine, some long
conversations about our next moves. In the end, I
have to say that we implemented a satisfactory
solution.
The contents of ‘her’ case were delivered to the
Academy anonymously as found assets to be
disposed of as they see fit. The rest, well…
We’ve both since retired and picked out a nice
place to live, with plenty of room for family—hers,
mine and ours. It’s near the edge of a beautiful
forest within walking distance, down the bluff, to
the sand and the sea. We call it Amara.
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