| what, me worry? |
[Dec. 7th, 2037|11:05 am] |
Today is Snow's first day of work at Mindscape. I hope everything's going okay. I know the job is part of what makes it possible for her to even be here, but I'm not sure that a full-time dose of Crichton is in anyone's long-term best interest.
I didn't even know all this was going on until late yesterday afternoon, after Snow woke up and came into the bar at 4 PM ready for breakfast. All this technology and we still can't do anything about jet lag, what's that about? Scully gave her a fried egg sandwich and some of that nasty blackberry tea she likes. That stuff makes the roof of my mouth itch every time I try to drink it.
Anyway, she told us about Crichton waking her up and summoning her to work today. Crichton doesn't usually poke, but something weird was going on with her last night, for sure. She came in fine, made a beeline straight for me, stopped when she saw Snow in the booth, and actually got the kind of look on her face that you get when you're trying not to swear in public. Highly unusual. Then she stood in line at the counter to order a drink. It was really busy, I could have used two of me, and when it was her turn she took her beer and say, "Well, Segura, you're clearly destined for a life behind bars." And did that annoying hah thing she does when she's particularly amused with herself. And then apparently went off and woke up a sleeping exhausted woman to tell her something she could just have easily sent in an email.
If I didn't know better, I'd say she was sharked about something, but Crichton never gets mad. She just gets even. |
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| bright sunshiny day |
[Dec. 6th, 2037|07:45 am] |
She's home!!!
It's like the sun coming up in my world. I swear it is. She came into Solitaire last night around midnight after traveling for about a million hours and she looked just like the goddamn sun walking into the place. Everything got brighter. Everyone looked around to see what had changed. Maybe some of them just saw a tired woman with bags, but what do they know?
She fell asleep in a booth over a plate of eggs and bacon. Scully and I walked her back to her place to make sure she wouldn't fall asleep on the street too. He carried her bags and I pretty much carried her.
We still haven't had what I would call a coherent conversation, but it doesn't matter because now she is here to talk to and I can breathe again. |
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| destination unknown |
[Dec. 1st, 2037|01:36 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Anubian Lights Phantascope | ] |
Long email from Snow about her meeting with Neill. Reading it made me itchy. It made me want to go out and take a long walk. Or maybe what I really want is a long talk with him myself. I want to talk about....well, about everything. He'd know in about ten seconds that I have no idea what I'm doing with Crichton, with the bar, with any of it. It's like I threw a rock in a pond and now I'm supposed to orchestrate the ripples. It's not like managing projects. In a project, we always know what the goal is. We have an idea of what the end will look like, so we know it when we get there. But I don't know how to do that with all these people's lives that are rippling because I was trying to save myself and threw a rock.
The word is getting out about MindScape and about me. What I can do, what I will be doing. The watchers don't really get it, they just know that Aftershock Is Bad. But the solos get it. Having those particular folks paying attention to me is not the most comfortable experience. Last night, Jeanne Gordineau came into Solitaire--it's pretty impressive in a weird way how tense she can make a room just by walking into it--and I was making sandwiches, and she came up to the counter and stared at me until I said, "What?" If she'd been someone else I would have put down my knife, just to be polite, but with Gordineau it's important to send obvious messages. And she said, "What do you drink, petite soeur? I wish to buy it for you."
I couldn't have been more surprised if she'd turned into a giant blue cockatiel and started singing La Marseillaise. I drew myself a Redhook, and one for her, and she clinked my glass with a significant look and then wandered off to scare someone.
I don't know whether to like this or run screaming. If I ran, I'd probably just keep going right now.
The thing I would want to talk to Neill about is how it is that even if you have skills you just end up making things up all the time. Throwing rocks. So how do you know where you're going? |
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| I can't breathe |
[Nov. 25th, 2037|03:08 pm] |
She's on her way back to Ko and what if something happens?
I went with her to the omniport. Well, to the transport station at the outer ring; they were scanning everyone, they wouldn't let me onto the grounds. They were loud and rude about it, people stared. I think it scared Snow, and it made her sad. It makes me sad that I'm getting used to it.
What if she can't? What if she gets back to Ko and it's beautiful, it's clean, it's safe, things work and the people aren't scary and it just feels too much like home? And she doesn't come back? I don't even know how to imagine what that would be like. And I don't even want to live in the same space with her right now, so what's that about?
I think I must be the most fucked-up selfish stupid person on the planet.
I am so tired of having things taken away.
I wish I was a thousand years old and knew everything. |
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| the ghost who drinks |
[Nov. 23rd, 2037|01:25 am] |
Huh. Crichton was here. It's weird, you just turn around and there she is filling up a space you could have sworn was empty a second ago. I'd love to be able to do that. I thought maybe she was back to talk more about me going in, which I am so not ready to do. I told her if she was looking for me, she needed to come back after closing, and she just smiled with no teeth and said, "It isn't always about you, Segura." Then she made Scully climb up to his apartment and bring back one of the bottles of Krug he keeps up there in case someone swank comes in. I keep trying to tell him if he wants the really rich people, we need to move the club to a worse neighborhood and hire a bunch of security. The children of privilege would line up around the block. We could get a velvet rope and a bouncer. We could get Crichton. What an image.
She left with the bottle and a beer glass. Must be a celebration, she was wearing her white eyes.
Okay, fine, she still makes me nervous, okay? She has this way of looking at me like she has a grapefruit spoon in my brain. |
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| It turns out I like cats |
[Nov. 18th, 2037|11:50 am] |
I never spent much time around them before. This one is nice, though. Scully has decided to call him  Zack. He is enormously pleased with himself (Scully, not the cat... although Snow says it is a feature of cats to regard themselves highly, so maybe they're both pleased, who knows?). Anyway, it's fun to watch the cat be so in charge of everything. I understand the impulse. Turtle had a cat for a while, until the dorm admin found out and made him find a home for it. It wasn't a very nice cat, although now I think maybe it wasn't happy. They don't really belong in a dorm room. Maybe it felt trapped.
Oh, great. Let's think about dead friends and VC all at the same time, and have a really fucking special day.
What it is, is that Snow has been busy getting her apartment in order and she doesn't want my help, which is okay. Well, it isn't, but she's doing what she needs to do. I guess I just wish I could be a part of it. But that's not fair, she wasn't part of mine--but she wasn't here. Although if she'd been here, would I have let her help me? It's just really confusing. Everything is so different now. I feel like I don't know who I am. I get tired of having to learn new things about myself all the time, even if it's only cats.
If I sit in this apartment for one more minute, I will go deeply insane. I think I'll just go to work early instead. |
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| thinking late thoughts |
[Nov. 15th, 2037|03:47 am] |
A very busy night. People sure do like grilled cheese sandwiches.
I think Snow found an apartment! We took a look this afternoon. It's close by, about seven blocks from Solitaire and maybe about the same distance from me. It turns out to be the same building Drake lives in, which made me expect it to be really ratty, but it's not bad. It's a long flat, all the rooms laid out like the cars of a tunnel train. Living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and a tiny room at the end--that's the real draw for her, I think, she likes having a space that she can make utterly private. She's given the landlord her information, she should hear back in the next day or so.
It makes it all seem more real. Not that having her here isn't already real, but it's like being on vacation or something, all these hotels and late-night drink fests. What will it be like when this is our life? When we're just....here? She's still a part of Ko, Crichton promised there would be no repercussions, but we all know how it really works. They won't forget that she made this choice. Neither will I.
A cat wandered in to Solitaire tonight. Scully made gooey noises and fed him, which seemed to be all the encouragement he needed--he ate a barrelful of shredded ham and went to sleep in the warm corner by the refrigerator. So I guess we have a bar cat.</a> |
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| hope |
[Nov. 13th, 2037|04:03 pm] |
A surprising day.
Estar brought me a painting, a beautiful apology. A picture of hope for me and Snow. I wondered how I'd feel when it happened, and it was fine. Better than fine. She looked so little and soft, and she left bruises on my arms when she hugged me. She's trying to say goodbye, but it can't be goodbye yet. It will take weeks to get the details smoothed out so that she can go back in. It's not goodbye.
And then Snow said the most amazing thing.
Scully asked me earlier, what happens now? I don't know, except I have about seven thousand glasses to wash. |
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