Sep 2016
Archivist's notes: This should be read in the ancient style: aloud, with lights and displays depowered. Permission has been granted for the lighting of candles (see oxygen rationing exemptions). Dedicated to the search for New Earth.
~~
I dreamed of you yesterday, and I awoke to tears of joy. Though you are not yet born, and we shall never meet, I know I must send this to you.
I have a name, and I am young. In this regard, we are similar. I write to you mostly because you cannot write to me. I have questions for you, but I lived many centuries ago. So I must do my best to think what you might want to ask me and try to reply.
Here, the ceiling, everything, is filled with openness. It would probably be quite scary were I not used to it. I wonder what is like where you are, and if you are afraid. Large hardened plants tower over me, ten times my height or more. I run fingers along their sides. They watch over us. I suppose things must be very different there.
The place where I live is complicated to explain; there are many people living here. I feel that perhaps you might like it, as I do. Oxygen is abundant where I live; you breathe and there it is. Not just here, but everywhere. Some people complain that the air here is not great. I do not mind.
Do you know what animals are? I suspect that you do, though I worry that there may not be many there. That makes me feel sad. There are many animals here, countless wonderful creatures. I like to look at them. They feel alive and free and full of hope. I am not sure if I imagine they feel that way, or if they imagine I do. Anyway, I think we feel the same.
I have a secret to tell you. In my dream, I saw where it is you are. That is why it I thought it might be scary. It was a metal tube, way up in the endless blackness. Though I know you are not there yet, I did try looking for you. Standing out in the green, I looked up. but you were not there. The small feathered ones sang.
I know you are there, regardless. I think of you as a friend, and I hope, I hope you find what it is you seek. I hope you are with a friend. Friendship and hope will surely not be eroded by the countless ages.
I know I will never have answers to my questions, but there is contentment in the asking. I do not know what will become of me, but I think of you, and I am glad that I may be remembered by a friend.
~~
I dreamed of you yesterday, and I awoke to tears of joy. Though you are not yet born, and we shall never meet, I know I must send this to you.
I have a name, and I am young. In this regard, we are similar. I write to you mostly because you cannot write to me. I have questions for you, but I lived many centuries ago. So I must do my best to think what you might want to ask me and try to reply.
Here, the ceiling, everything, is filled with openness. It would probably be quite scary were I not used to it. I wonder what is like where you are, and if you are afraid. Large hardened plants tower over me, ten times my height or more. I run fingers along their sides. They watch over us. I suppose things must be very different there.
The place where I live is complicated to explain; there are many people living here. I feel that perhaps you might like it, as I do. Oxygen is abundant where I live; you breathe and there it is. Not just here, but everywhere. Some people complain that the air here is not great. I do not mind.
Do you know what animals are? I suspect that you do, though I worry that there may not be many there. That makes me feel sad. There are many animals here, countless wonderful creatures. I like to look at them. They feel alive and free and full of hope. I am not sure if I imagine they feel that way, or if they imagine I do. Anyway, I think we feel the same.
I have a secret to tell you. In my dream, I saw where it is you are. That is why it I thought it might be scary. It was a metal tube, way up in the endless blackness. Though I know you are not there yet, I did try looking for you. Standing out in the green, I looked up. but you were not there. The small feathered ones sang.
I know you are there, regardless. I think of you as a friend, and I hope, I hope you find what it is you seek. I hope you are with a friend. Friendship and hope will surely not be eroded by the countless ages.
I know I will never have answers to my questions, but there is contentment in the asking. I do not know what will become of me, but I think of you, and I am glad that I may be remembered by a friend.
