poly_chromatic | [audio]

[Oddly enough, there's no video accompanying this particular entry.]

I have been thinking, and it seems--at the risk of sounding Vulcan--illogical, putting effort into anything in the City. Yes, I realize that this way of thinking can be applied to life as a whole, but in the City, memory is so-- [a long pause, during which, one imagines, Chekov gestures wildly in an attempt to find the correct word] --tenuous?

What I mean is, at home, we are constantly learning, accumulating knowledge and, unless something out of the ordinary happens, what we learn never leaves us. And even when we die, there is something of our existence left... memories, a legacy--something. Memories may not last forever, and we are forgotten as those who knew us or have heard of us die also, but in the City... how long do memories of anyone last? Six years? Five?

That is not to say that I believe we should stop doing things here, in the City. As one of my professors would have said, work, activity, and social interactions are important to the well-being of humans and humanoids, even if none of the results are lasting, but it bothers me to think that there is nothing that I will retain from the time spent here. I cannot imagine that--living here and learning, only to forget once I leave. And those I have come to know, when they leave, will have no memory of what happened here. That--everyone forgetting--seems more final than death.

It bothers me more than death, I think. Maybe that is only because death is a phenomenon that I understand and have some familiarity with; maybe it is vanity speaking and I dislike the thought of being forgotten so easily.

Mostly, I am very attached to my mind. There is nothing that I value more than what I have learned and what I remember, and I do not want that taken away.

[He almost sounds... upset? But then, just as cheerfully as ever--]

Howl, Sophie--have you seen Peter recently? I am beginning to become concerned.

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[The Hall...]

I'll come with you.

[quickly] Or we can look in other places first. It may be premature, checking the Hall.

[Going there makes things real.]

Oh, Pavel...[Softly; then quickly, she adds.] Very well, where do we look first, then?

[Chekov doesn't have an answer. There isn't much of anywhere he hasn't looked.]

I don't know.

[She doesn't have the solution, either. Just a few weeks ago, she celebrated when Peter had gotten out of bed, but the truth was...the house had become eerily silent.]

Let's just try walking first.

Sensible, as always.

[He offers her an arm, should she wish to walk in the manner that Tessa was most accustomed to.]

[She takes it. She may not be as accustomed to it as Tessa might have been, but it's a nice gesture and she has offered her company because Pavel is a nice boy who needs it, especialy in this hour. If Peter is indeed gone, especially...]

Someone's got to try and be.

And that someone must be you, of course. [He smiles, but it's somewhat forced.] Howl is never sensible.

Pff - he wouldn't be Howl if he were sensible...

But you must not mind insensible people, not much.

[Apropos of nothing--]

You and Howl are not allowed to leave the City. I hope that you know that.

Oh, I mind them. This one in particular, but I know - I've seen - there's more to him than the initial impression. [And there's the whole love is blind theory.

As for what he says next, she just squeezes his arm, as if in understanding.]

The initial impression that Howl made, when we met, was on my floor. [Wait. That wasn't real English.] That is, he was very drunk and fell asleep on my floor.

[He will take that to mean that she'll do what she can. It's a ridiculous thing to ask, of course. No one can control when they leave the City.

But with Tessa, McCoy, and now Peter (Chekov can only fool himself for so long) gone, Howl and Sophie can't leave.]

[That makes her, believe it or not, laugh a little, and pat Chekov's arm.] Well, everyone has days where they just do not make good impressions.

The first impression he got of me was an old lady who had intruded in his castle and cleaned things.

[Making Sophie laugh is never a bad thing.] He made up for it by cooking.

There are worse things that an intruder might do, but that isn't the first time you have mentioned being old.

Mm, he makes a decent breakfast, that's for sure. Did it for me, too.

[She pauses at that.] Well, that's because I was. Around ninety-years-old, or at least my body was.

You look very good for someone who was ninety not so long ago.

Yes, well. There was a curse.

Your world sounds, to me, like a confusing place to live.

It isn't to me. But I'd probably say the same of your world.

You would do well in my world. There are more insensible people on the Enterprise than anywhere else.

[Aaand abrupt return to seriousness.]

Do you suppose that, in the City, it ever becomes easier to have people leave? Miss Lucy says no, but it must become easier or everyone would always be miserable.

[She thinks about that, watches him for a moment, before looking ahead again.]

I think people learn to pretend they're not affected easier, and think that means it's gotten easier.

[He just waits expectantly while she thinks.]

So they come to be as they pretend...

Who's to say right now. Let's try for a little less somberness.

[Chekov walks without talking for a time, trying to think about something more cheerful.]

Have I ever told you how transporters and replicators work?

Oh - no, but tell me that, and I'll tell you if they resemble the seven league boots.

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