|
Set course for
Earth. Should arrive and be in orbit around moon in a few minutes. Standard
cloaking procedure so as not to arouse interest as before. Disguise shuttle
as ordinary saloon once on Earth terra firma.
I do not know why I have come back here a third time.
The reporter stops the console for a moment, "a 'third time'? What
happened on the second?"
No. 27 remains silent as would Cutter if he were there. She continues:
It's almost as if a part of me is dying and wishes to be at rest where
I started. I am an educated man of sorts. A soldier of some experience
but there seems no rational reason why I should drag all of us back to
Earth.
Since the Univarians, I have begun to see our home world as mere elements
of cause and effect; angles of chaos bearing the brunt of chance operation
interweaving intrinsically in everything that exists universally. The
equation that is common place that rational lives live alongside irrational:
black is in the same time white (a crude example but necessary to be included
here).
Yet there is one thing that escapes every option of thought I have channeled
at it. It remains, dogging me: why do I wish to return to Earth to see
Patsy?
The entry finishes. Dexter sits back from the screen. There are no more
entries for that day. She flicks to the next: no entry.
Then to the next: no entry.
She moves through the files that contain mere dates and nothing more
until March 4th:
to it |
