You are inside the Central Control Room, its walls painted a light gray. The drop lights above the desk to the far right of the room and the console's keyboard have both been switched off. Many screens are lined up next to each other, all of them unpowered. Also here is Sgt. Arni (60HP).
The broadcast system is currently running on an uninterrupted power supply.
- You view the diary.
Since your last turn:
- • December 2013
I remember the day I met her as if it was just yesterday.
It was a sunny day, March 7, 1992, in one of those derelict orphanages in East-Skedhu, then still referred to as the "Shadowglen Graveyard". The other children were laughing boisterously as they played outside. I watched them from the window in my room, sighing to myself. The other boys did not want to play with me, because they said I looked too much like a girl. Girls didn't like to play with me, because they said I was too weird.
I enjoyed reading all the books in the orphanage's collection, sometimes heading out to the local library, if I wanted to read about science. Reading was where I could make my own worlds. It was where I can lose myself in a stream of knowledge and discovery. It was my escape.
My parents died a month prior, from what I thought started from food poisoning gone bad. We attended the birthday party of one of my Unliving friends, but I did not eat any of the food there. I just didn't feel hungry at the time. Hours after we got home from the party, my parents were complaining of painful, gassy stomachs, a loss of appetite, weakness, and the other potential signs of food poisoning. My mother was a nurse, and as such, she had a faint idea of what to do - she attempted to drive herself, also in pain at the time, and my father to the hospital where she worked. It was not too far from our house, and we managed to get there. My mother was only able to stand up and call for assistance before she suddenly lost consciousness, falling against the hard, asphalt ground. My parents were then rushed to the emergency room as I trailed behind. The naive and innocent nine-year old me can only stand and watch as I witnessed my parents die before my very eyes.
Ten years later, I learned that they were just two among majority of the humans who attended that birthday party. Humans and Unliving alike, provided that they ate some of the food served in the party, contracted fatal diarrhea. For some time, I was angry that I did not stop my parents from eating. I wish I had eaten some of the food instead of my parents, so that I could have died instead. I blamed myself on something that I would eventually learn to be a deliberate act of an anarchist group, to kill humans and unliving.
I had no parents, and no friends. I hated the sun, and I hated that I had nobody to talk to. The orphanage itself was nice, though. The kind and portly Miss Rosemarie never failed to cheer me up whenever she saw me walk around the hallway with a pout on my face. Even then, that did not serve as an adequate distraction to take my grief away.
Ever since the day I was sent to the orphanage, just a day after my parents died, there were only around two other children brought there. They were twin brothers, both of them too young to speak to me, at 6 months old. Their parents apparently abandoned them in their house. Just then, Miss Rosemarie greeted a child who I would have sworn was a boy.
Seeing that I had wandered off from my room, Miss Rosemarie walked to me, with the child trailing behind her. She told me to talk to the child and make her feel welcome. That kid's black hair was shorter than mine, and the child had that ambiguous appearance, with ears unmistakably that of a Tehb, or someone with strong Tehb ancestry.
"Finch, this is Amy. Amy, this is Finch.", said Miss Rosemarie.
That child was a girl? She... no, Amy, the only thing that gave her away was her bashfulness. When waved my hand at her, she shrieked and ran behind Miss Rosemarie, hiding on the back of her skirt.
"Finch is a really good boy. He won't harm you.", said our caretaker.
She peered from behind Miss Rosemarie's legs, and with sparkles in her eyes, she giggled faintly, and said, "He's a boy? I thought he was a girl!"
I was indignant about her comment, just as I am whenever the other children in the orphanage said I looked like a girl. I could swear my cheeks flushed. "Hey, I thought you were a boy!", I retorted. Amy ran towards the end of the corridor as she cried softly to herself.
I chased her down the hallway, until we reached a dead end. Every time I tried to come closer to her, she would move away, until the time I cornered her, and gave her my apology. She continued to cry softly afterwards, until I took my pocket pack of tissues, and wiped the tears from her face with it.
"I'm sorry! I did not mean to!", I said.
She sniffed, and replied, "It's okay. Don't say I'm a boy ever again or we are not friends anymore!"
"So can we be friends now, Amy?"
"Yes! Your name is Fee... Puh... Puh..."
"It's Finch."
"Puh! Puh! Pinch!"
"No, no, Finch!"
"I call you Finny. Finny is so cute!"
This was the start of a friendship, but little did I know that the boyish little girl would be my best friend and first love - an unrequited love of 12 years. Little did I know that she would grow up into a fine lady, or that she would eventually give me the sweet answer I had longed for. It's a pleasant surprise to see her become my girlfriend, and eventually, my betrothed.
Here's to 21 years, on to forever, Amy. ♥ (archived)
- • November 2013
The decision was difficult to make, but ultimately, it couldn't have been helped.
I received a letter from Dolly Lajia-Hanley, Amy's mother, telling me to break up with Amy. In the middle of reading it, I thought to myself, "What are insults to my species to stop me from loving the woman I promised to spend the rest of my life with?" I would have been a great coward to allow that to keep me away from her.
It occurred to me today that I must be that fool. I'm a coward.
My decision, no doubt, caused great pain to Amy, even after I showed her the letter. She told me, "We could hide, we can go far away from here, where my mother could no longer keep an eye on us." She does not realize how dangerous her mother is. If Dolly attempted to murder Amy 21 years ago, what is stopping her from doing that again?
I do not mind dying for Amy, and I would rather die for her sake than break her heart, but I could not see myself selfishly doing something I know would harm her.
It pains me deeply, but I believe that protecting Amy's life is a greater sacrifice, a greater monument to the love I have for her. (archived)
- • January 2012
Five years is a long time.
Five years and a few weeks ago, great joy came into our lives, just for it to be taken away the next day. Tori was born on the night of December 17, 2007. She was said to have died in the neonatal intensive care unit, the next day.
Around eight months prior to that, I had graduated from medical school, with almost everyone assuming I was a virgin. I don't know why so many made a big deal about it, but my male classmates always attempted to insult or attack me over my supposed effeminate face, saying it wasn't helping me get laid at all. I didn't really care. I personally would only want to copulate with someone I love.
We discussed the three dopamine pathways and their role in neurotransmission, numerous times throughout the span of the curriculum, with the argument that what most people define as "love" is the result of the fulfillment of stimuli. It is easy to rationalize biological processes in the context of biochemistry, but why is it that I could not rationalize biological processes in a philosophical context?
Why am I perceived as "weak"? Why is my loyalty said to be irrational? Why can't they just leave me be? Why can't they accept that I cannot explain everything I do?
I am a scientist, but theory does not govern my entire life.
Blind dates, forced trips to the cabaret whenever I had to drag my friend out from his drunken stupor - those didn't work for me. There was only one woman I love, I want, I need, in my eyes; that boyish girl I loved since I was nine years old.
One cloudless, starry night, sometime around March 2007 was a special night for a medical intern, and a nurse.
The clear, bright night of December 17, 2007, a cute baby girl was born to that couple, but-
On the snowy morning of December 18, 2007, that girl suddenly died.
Writing this brings me to tears. (archived)
Possible actions:
- Return to 'The Truth'
Inventory:
- You carry a knife and a key to Floor 108B on one pocket; your phone on the other. On top of your clothing, you are wearing a black face mask, a golden one-eye eyepiece, a lapel, an earpiece, a black tactical vest with a two loaded pistols and 10 spare magazines inside the vest pouches.
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