Malic
Radio Bob Approved
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2022
- Messages
- 372
- Thread Author
- #1
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Name: William Stoner
Age: 56 (Born December 23rd, 1965)
Vocation: MoE Head of Press and Second Secretary
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No family and some friends.
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November 25th 2020:
Terminal Seven. How did I end up here? It feels as though just yesterday I was winning chess games out by the offline RDT of City Twenty-Four somewhere between the food riots and the Antlion attacks. Been getting shuffled around since. Feels like a blur and a half. Felt like even more of a blur when I was trying to get a new pair of glasses, but thankfully that's not an issue anymore.
Every day I wake up and walk around through a world that was conquered by aliens. The fact that people don't marvel at that fact every day is proof this species is utterly deranged on a fundamental level. Who gets used to that? I don't. Not in any way that's real or sticks. What was it that one Vort called them? The Ulathoi? I wonder if they play chess.
What are we doing here? I can only answer for myself. Making the best of things after she died. What's best though? Really? "Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one." Aurelius you effete fascistic nimrod. This planet obviously seems to be dying without Benefactor oversight, and yet... Even scribbling and yet on this little soon to be burned scrap of paper feels like it's the start of just the sort of sentiment that will get me shot. That's about enough of an and yet.
And yet still I've little doubt someone could have negotiated a better deal for us than Breen, but perhaps that's assuming too much of both their mercy and our value. I miss the petty squabbles I used to have teaching at Baylor. Things were so much simpler when we were that happy little family hardly forming. Before the alien invasion made an atheist out of me. For both your sakes I do find myself hoping that heaven is real. Perhaps it is affixed just to the left of Xen.
My station has given me the task of talking frequently with those about the Terminal. The scar tissue making up the socially-oriented centers in my brain masquerading as misanthropic disinterest threatens to heal. For a time I could not care of everyone died. Of late I care if anyone dies. Before me a best course of possible actions necessarily presents itself; discernable through guile and grace.
December 31st 2020
A new year approaches soon. Feels like I've been on this train trip for a month. Already the assignments are rolling in. How strange to already feel homesick for Terminal Seven, and yet at the same time so anticipate a return to City Twenty-Four. I wonder if the chessboard will be there still, waiting after all these years. At least I won't have to win games to earn food this time. I find it increasingly disconcerting that so many people who do me a favor die the following day.
February 21st 2021
I am alive it seems. When I agreed to the new Administrator's plan I suspected death to be an inevitability. It was nearly delivered too. How lucky am I to be alive right now? Perhaps I should ask how unlucky. Martha. I still miss you most days, but it has been so long I have begun to forget your face even without the Breen water's bite.
This City is not what it seems. So similar and yet different all the same, barely held together by the Civil Worker's repairs. A vague collection of connections tethers me both to the distant past and the present, with the occasional fresh face doting the crowds.
Despite the dye about my follicles I am beginning to feel old. Truly old. I suppose now I have just outlived my father now. That feels a good a mark as any for when one ought to feel truly old. I am equal parts optimistic and anxious for the future, but perhaps this is no different than before.
The breath we catch today is the life we lead tomorrow.
March 6th 2021
I hear rumors of change, and yet see quite little. At once the powers that be seem more approachable, and yet just as captive as ever to the whims of fate. What was it Reiter said about the Invisible Empire? That set of circumstances behind which even those in power find themselves in such positions... It all seems remarkably deterministic. Inevitable. And yet how at odds is such a dour perspective in the face of thousands of years of such peculiar circumstance? The madness innate to reality.
May 7th 2021
The population has been dispatched to the eastern stretch of Geneva, and I find myself directing the camp. We are understaffed and low on resources, but despite the barrage of requests for help in organizing it seems as though things are going smoothly.
Tomorrow we are to tackle the mine. I'm expecting a series of logistical hurdles of which I am not technically qualified for, but I believe I have surrounded myself with enough competency that the challenges should prove surmountable.
I saw it on a walk about the territory late this night. William Mine. Maybe I was always headed here for something. The church is what has me most curious however. It has been quite some time since I have made any sort of peace with the lord. Not after you were taken from me, but through the years I believe I have grown wiser.
Through the years I suspect I have begun again to believe. The Vortigaunts have their higher powers, and claim them to pervade even our species, but more over... I am of the opinion now that no one ever truly goes away. They simply cease to reside within the present. The slightest action one does echoes throughout more than mere millennia.
I hope I can keep everyone at camp alive, but I know that is highly unlikely given the circumstances. I should like to write more, or perhaps read, but I did not pack many books, and more over; I find myself deeply tired.
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Those to Whom I Regard:
(request a write up below)
Those to Whom I Regard:
(request a write up below)
Thomas:
I've known you since Industrial Twenty-Four. I fear your efforts to remain relatively unknown have proved unsuccessful. By virtue of living long enough in this place one cannot help but rise above one's station, and I think it's only right to use that inevitable rise to prominence for good. One of the few I trust. I'm quite glad that barbaric manhack test you suffered through failed to cut into an artery.
Seems you've done rather well for yourself of late. I'm glad. Hope that you can take the Emporium and really make it sing.I wish I got to speak to you again. Your company was always appreciated.
Idris:
I still recall that time in Industrial Twenty-Four when we wheeled that vending machine back into the warehouse to help prevent theft. Had a strong opinion of you ever since. Didn't see you much between then and Terminal Seven. Perhaps in a brighter and more lackadaisical future I'll be lucky enough to catch one of those "rotations" I've heard so much about.
You were the only one I knew who could attest to the truth behind my crime. Where are you now Rastaman?
I wonder how you fair, and perhaps regret not joining you during that one Terminal storm.
Cicero:
Your political aspirations are noble, I count myself honored to have helped in some way foster them. Perhaps some good can come from this indeed.
I wish I pushed you to make that binder when you still could, I have no doubt you could have been one of the greatest minds among the Security Council had it transpired.
Uwe:
I let you down greatly, and fear that what I have helped you achieve does not make up for it in the slightest. I hope that you can handle what draws near.
I hope you recover from your grievous injuries, and am sorry I will never get to give you the feedback you wanted on that project of yours.
Joe:
It seems you've known tyranny all your life based on what you've told me. It's no wonder you see the pathway of an industrialist as your ticket to safety and security. Though brief, I did quite enjoy our chess game together in your store before the grand opening. Provided you continue to survive and play you've got the makings of a good player. I'm thankful you helped save my life from that headcrab.
Seems you've landed on your feet once again. I expected as much. Your new employees seem eager to work too, which makes me think without a misstep you're in for a good couple of months. Regrettably I believe you have helped to once more foster what is clearly to my mind a burgeoning tendency towards alcoholism I first encountered in City Eight.
When Delgado told me to watch out for you I never realized how difficult that might be. You have fallen far Joe, but so has much of the world. Like it, I believe you too can rise to the challenge.
Noah:
From all the stories I'd heard I think I was fortunate enough to see you at your best. Helping to hang up posters in Industrial Twenty-Four was arguably my first task for the MoE. I still remember that time you saved a bird. Perhaps the most depressing painting I've seen in my life was your final work of art; the blood stain which seeped through the ceiling.
I've given up on getting that chessboard dedicated to you in the Study Hall. In part because no one seems to know who can get that done, and in part because I've heard some of the less scrupulous things you've done.
The greatest heights I saw you ascend was that discourse with the Vortigaunts outside the subway. I wish that we lived in a world where conversations such as that could have transpired with more regularity. Perhaps that world is for others to inherit, not us.
Takeo:
The second boss I lost. You were clearly sharp, but someone obviously talked you into an insane and ultimately self destructive course of action. Some days I wish I could have talked you out of it, but more so I wish I had the opportunity at the trial to voice my pre-written defense of your actions. Your temper got the better of you. A tragic waste of potential. You helped set up my wages the day before it all fell apart.
I wonder sometimes what you had hoped to accomplish. It seems so many are similarly enamored with courses of action that seem prone to producing similar results to your own. Your death haunts me still.
Now perhaps it is my turn to haunt others. I hope no one was too badly disturbed by the sight, and that the grief proves productive.
Jon:
I respect just about any business owner who employs Vortigaunts. Cooperation across interdimensional lines is one of the aspirations I most agree with on this peculiar stage of global development. My interactions with you, though brief, have thus far been cordial and productive. I am still rather thankful for the sale of those audiobooks, even if it slipped your mind.
It seems of late you have run afoul of the system. I am glad Casey has given you the opportunity for employment despite this development. I hope you and Cicero had a rather cordial greetings as coworkers once again.
Upon reflection, your store in the Terminal was perhaps my favorite places to have ever been in the Post-Liberation world. You cannot possibly know how much your commercial enterprise inspired.
Ashikage
An elderly gentleman from the Civil Workers Union, and a rather recent drinking buddy. I should like to see more of his piano performances, so few people really play. Somehow in all the time spent back in this city he's the only one I've found the time and opportunity to play chess with. I do hope one day he can find something that might help with his headaches, and perhaps too all the memories those headaches seem to keep locked away.
I hope your health does not fail you friend. It seems as though you have so much left to give the world despite your age.
I am glad to have gotten to know the true you.
Tzu
Of the species Vortigaunt this one was the first to speak at length of his people and their plight. I had known these creatures were old, but never this ancient. More over, I had never expected them to be this wise. I suspect many more of our people would have died in the week spent in that valley without his help, to say nothing of the lives I know he has saved in his line of work. This city is lucky to have him.
One of these days we should have another good chat. It seems I only encounter you in passing. The high price of busy lives.
I was glad to have you out in the wilds once again, quite like how we met. It was a shame I was too busy to discuss such.
Amelie
I regret I was not able to help Noah, but I do hope that I can help you. The world is really quite unkind these days. I suspect there is a great deal of story to tell, but perhaps the less I know the better. This feels as much true for you as it does so many others. When I see you, more than most, I worry for the future of this world and its tendency for unkindness.
Seems you still persist yet, I am glad of it.
I hope that one day you can find a farmhouse to call your own.
Enzo
Wyatt's newest friend in high places, and something of an acquaintance of my own. I'm not yet sure I made the right choice backing you, but I do hope such a course of action will be shown to be for the best. A shame I'm out of a barber now with your new promotion, but I suppose I've survived far worse turns of fate. I do hope you've gotten a chance to have more chats with Mulligan since your latest ascent.
I hope that you keep the people of the city safer than I've managed to keep the people of the camp. I see now the weight of such responsibility.
Daniel
A rather enigmatic fellow indeed. Far from the least amicable, but also seems rather busy. Can never quite get any kind of read on who he is and what he's doing. Think I've known him perhaps longer than his name comes to mind, but I suppose that's how it can be with irregular encounters. Seems a great deal more shrewd than he lets on; the sort to have survived a lot.
I wonder how you have been.
René
You share the name of a favorite painter of mine. I fear our rapport will never be the same after what happened to your close protégé, even if she returns. I should like to have talks in the garden someday, and perhaps more office meetings as well. Some of what you are doing seems to justify Orwell's profound paranoia, and yet at the same time these aims do not seem uniquely malicious. All too human. I've no doubt there is more to you than being but an extension of City Thirteen's political will.
When we last spoke I looked forward to seeing you again. I suppose that has come to pass.
Oksana
Seems another of so many wrapped up in the drama of day to day life within this regime. Perhaps unlike many you will be able use your demotion to escape. Seems as though you do good work with the Civil Worker's Union. Have not spoken to you often, but I know you are very important to people.
I hope you fair well. Wherever you are.
Evelyn
We have spoken quite briefly. Timing is a curious thing. I wonder if it's you.
I suppose I'll never know.
Oh well!
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