From the Desk of Director Sarah Martinez, Entry 16
November 9, 2101
successful login: martinez.sarah
file upload, 2101-11-03.bonesbullshitinterview: complete
auto transcription complete!
initiating playback…
Guard: You sure about this?
Martinez: As sure as I was about my colonoscopy.
Guard: What?
Martinez: Never mind. Let’s just get this over with.
<<squealing doors, chairs scraping. a chuckle echoes.>>
Bones: Long time no see, Sayre.
Martinez: You trying to get under my skin right off the bat?
Bones: What? I can’t greet an old friend?"
Martinez: “Friend?” Bitch, you tried to get me killed.
Bones: Tomato, tomahto.
Martinez (low notes just register on the audio): That doesn’t make any goddamned sense…
Bones: How’s the Ladder?
Martinez (chair scraping): Enough bullshit, Bones. What do you want?
Bones: First off, I’d like my implant back.
Martinez: No. Next.
Bones: This is torture. This… disconnectedness.
Martinez: Then next time don’t try to blow up a fucking government—
<<cross talk>>
Bones: It’s a fucking catastrophe!
Martinez: Saving our entire fucking species is not a catastrophe—
Bones: Oh, is that what you think you’re doing?
Martinez (chair scraping): Yes! That’s exactly what’s happening!
Bones: We should be focusing on the planet! Not some stupid fucking pipe dream—
Martinez: Pipe dream? Pipe dream?! We’ve moved a billion people off planet! We have settlements across the galaxy—
Bones: And you’ve abandoned our home!
Martinez: Are you fucking blind?
Bones: Might as well be without an uplink.
Martinez: The average temperatures have been dropping year over year since we started moving people off planet. Ocean clean up projects are working and carbon removal has—
Bones: (laughs)
Martinez: Something funny, asshole?
Bones: Oh, you’re still just that little girl who got in over her head, aren’t you?
<<silence stretches>>
Martinez: Bones. I need you to understand something.
Bones: And what’s that, oh madam director?
Martinez: I am not here because I owe you anything. I am not here because I value your input on anything.
Bones: No?
Martinez: No.
Bones: Then why the fuck did you come?
Martinez: Because I was enchanted with the idea of second chances. But you have gone out of your way to showcase how much of an utter piece of shit you are.
Bones: At least I didn’t sell my soul for power.
Martinez: Oh fuck off. Your high horse is knee deep in dog shit.
Bones: You just come here to shit on me? Just wanted to get your kicks by looking down at your fallen enemy.
Martinez: (softly) I never wanted to be your enemy.
Bones: Well, you failed at that.
Martinez (chair scraping quietly): Apparently. (door knock) I’m ready to go.
Bones (steel on steel clashing): Where are you going?
Martinez: Oh Bones. You poor, stupid asshole.
Bones (more rattling metal on metal): Sarah. Don’t you fucking leave me here. We’re not done here!
Martinez: We’ve been done since ‘76.
Bones: No! Don’t you do it! Don’t leave me here! Sayre! Please! Jesus! Don’t leave me here! Don’t—
<<audio cuts off>>
And that’s why I haven’t been writing these stupid fucking journals.
Now fuck off while I eat another dozen grainy-chocolate dipped croissants. If I soak them in liquor, they’re almost edible.
— Sayre
