From the Desk of Director Sarah Martinez, Entry 15
November 2, 2101
Hint of a chill alongside fallen leaves and the crisp bite of autumn in the air today.
Guess it’s actually fall now?
It’s still strange how the seasons are lining up. We haven’t had a mid-winter heatwave in almost five years now. The trees that made it are clawing at the sky instead of bent over and tired like years past.
Wonder if we’ll have snow for the holidays? I’d really like to see that once.
Deflection.
Met with Friez on Monday. He asked to read this journal. Told him to fuck off, then apologized and told him it’s classified.
Know what he said? “Good.”
I really don’t know how I feel about that. Relieved maybe? I think deep down I figured he’d get all up in my shit about the contents of this thing, so I kind of held back a bit. Yes, laugh all you want, but this is holding back for me.
But I’m still working that out, I guess; figuring out what “don’t hold back” looks like. That was one of the things that drew me to Camila when I was younger; her openness. Her unabashed confidence.
The way she didn’t take shit from anyone.
Ah Camila. No more tight outfits or drugs for her anymore; just flowing floral tops and no makeup except the fire engine red lipstick she still wears. She’s a grandma now as of last week. And it’s not even an oops-baby, situation. Her son is 22, married, and working in solar deployment management on New Eden. Smart kid, too.
And here I am typing away for, what, my ego? To give my Id a little thrill?
Why am I doing this if not to get Friez off my back?
Ah, fuck. Did not expect the alarm. Should have; meeting with the engineering team on the frictionless surface testing.
Wish me luck. This will make or break everything.
Until next time,
Sayre
