Microstory 2393: Vacuus, December 28, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I’m up to speed on what’s going on. I was present when Corinthia confronted my father about being the one involved with your unauthorized twin study. I was horrified to learn what my father did to you. He separated two children from each other, and one of their parents each. I can’t imagine how you or she must feel about it, but I’m embarrassed and ashamed. It was very brave of her to speak up for herself. We were sitting in the cafeteria. It was just her, me, and my dad. I was sitting on his side, because she’s my best friend, but he’s my father. I had no idea what was coming. After I realized what she was saying, I felt like I was on the wrong side of things...literally. I stood up, pivoted, and sat down next to her instead. I wasn’t sure how she would take that, but she rested her head on my shoulder. I think she was scared that I would be mad at her, but she did nothing wrong, and neither did you. I wish there was something I could do to make up for his betrayal, or to help, but Corinthia assures me that there’s nothing. She wants to put this whole situation to bed, and stop thinking about it. The study was decades ago, so my dad claims that he hasn’t thought about it all this time. I don’t know if I believe that. He must have had some sort of reaction every time he passed her in the corridor, or whenever they came to have dinner with us. If I were him, it would have put a knot in my stomach. Then again, I wouldn’t have let it go on this long. I would have fessed up. He says that your mom wouldn’t let him, but he’s an adult, and what was she gonna do to stop him? You deserved to know the truth your whole lives. You deserved to know each other. And now the Valkyries are coming, and this could be the last message you see from either of us for two years! I wish we had more time. I wish I could read more of your words, and see more of your photos and videos. I wish that I could touch you, and smell you. I wish that we could spend real time together. My dad didn’t take all that from us, but he took a lot, and I don’t know if I can forgive him. I just hope that you forgive me for being associated with him. Try to write back as fast as you can, because they don’t think we’ll see very much of the year 2180 before we become utterly isolated again.

Officially and hopelessly in love with you,

Velia

Microstory 2208: Steep Physical Decline

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Weird and unexpected news today. Do you remember that high school student that I worked with at the nursery? Well, after she graduated, she went straight into an intensive program to become a lifecare assistant. It’s a lot more socially acceptable on your world to forgo a college degree, instead focusing on training for more specific fields of study or work. The reason it works here is because of how careful and methodical you are with your children’s skills, and learning schedule. You see, where I’m from, every student from before first grade to when they become an adult is expected to learn pretty much all the same things. You do that too, but you don’t take it quite as far. By the time a kid is fourteen years old, you should have a pretty decent idea of where their strengths lie, and instead of forcing them to struggle and struggle through the topics that they have a harder time with, you encourage them to concentrate on what they’re probably going to do with the rest of your life. Sure, you hear a few stories here and there on my planet of someone ultimately becoming a brilliant scientist after failing chemistry class, but really, how often does that happen? Anyway, I don’t have to tell you people this, you obviously already understand. My former co-worker has now become my lifecare assistant. It wasn’t even planned that way, it’s just a coincidence. I’m her first patient since she aced the final exam. She’s going to live with me in my extra bedroom. Due to my steep physical decline, while I don’t need a whole lot of help yet, the doctors believe that it’s only a matter of time. By the end of this, she’s going to be doing pretty much everything for me, including the gross and awkward stuff that no one wants to need help with. It’s a little embarrassing, yes, but I can handle it. She’s a highly trained professional, and I still prefer to be treated by a woman. I’ve always been like that. Sexist or not, it’s the way I am. I see no reason to request a new assistant either way. Be prepared for the next installment in which things get incredibly depressing and sad.

Microstory 2151: But Not Covertly

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Nothing has officially changed since we last spoke. I spoke with my boss, and my boss’ boss, and my boss’ boss’s boss. I may be limiting my hours in the future, but only if I end up doing other things with my website. If I don’t, then there would be little reason to leave. I’m not struggling to keep up with my site schedule right now. I’m kind of embarrassed, but as we talked it out, we realized that the only reason my blog has been at all successful is because I do other things with my life besides writing the blog. If that’s all I do, then I’ll have nothing to write about. Sure, I’m still intermittently going to jail, but that will end eventually, and I already have to be careful with my details. Speaking of which, that business opportunity I’ve been teasing is moving forward. We have a meeting later this week. Normally, a new partner would come to them, but I can’t leave the area, so they’re flying in to my location. I told you about those offices in this apartment complex, so I think I’ll be able to actually make use of that amenity. It won’t be until Thursday, though, so everything else is going to be about normal until then. Jail was normal too. People are getting used to me, so I’m no longer the center of attention, which is nice. I was worried that that would never happen. People are still asking questions, and sometimes making snide remarks—often literally behind my back, but not covertly—but everyone experiences some of that. It’s hard to lay low in a place like that, because it’s ironically easy to notice anyone trying. Boy, this installment wasn’t very interesting, was it? I sure hope I don’t lose readers for this. I’m sure I will. That’s okay, I’m not one of those content creators who is going to beg you to “like and subscribe”. Do what you want, I’ll just be here.

Microstory 2118: Tiny Little Baby Boy

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I had a physical examination today. Some laws in this world are weird, and some of them are better than they are where I’m from. For others, I’m not sure one way or the other. I think my world would do this sort of thing sometimes, for when there were specific reasons to believe that the accused was in need of it, but here, they do it for everyone. There is an entire branch of medicine dedicated to making sure that people like me are fit to stand trial, or even just this small hearing. They call it Judicial Fitness, making this my Judicial Fitness Evaluation. I’ll go through more by the time this is over, and maybe more while I’m being monitored by a parole officer. This Earth, and this country in particular, is very concerned with the physical and emotional stability of their accused and convicted. I would be interested to learn what happened in history to turn this into a common practice. Were there too many bored doctors? Were there a ton of patients who were later discovered to have been unfit for legal proceedings, which resulted in severe damage to their welfare? Or maybe there was one highly publicized case that shifted perception. Either way, I don’t have a problem submitting to it. I have nothing to hide. Y’all already know, I don’t mind admitting to my medical issues; I’ve done that in multiple instances on this site. I believe in medical privacy, but I’ve personally never run into a situation that I felt I couldn’t tell anyone about, even if it would be “embarrassing” for a neurotypical. I’m trying to think of a story like that to prove to you that I don’t care, but nothing comes to mind. Perhaps I just don’t understand what other people’s threshold would be. I’ve had a few ingrown toenails, which required minor surgery, does that count? They sent a scope up my urethra to try to figure out my digestive issues. That’s not great, a normal person would probably keep that to themselves. Let’s see, I used to vomit from anxiety whenever I did something new. I guess that can still happen, it’s just that less is new than it was when I was a tiny little baby boy. I just called myself a tiny little baby boy, should I be embarrassed by that? You tell me. If those aren’t juicy enough for ya, I’m afraid that my current condition isn’t gonna help you either. I earned a clean bill of health from my physician, which means that I can attend my hearing tomorrow. What exactly the purpose of it is a bunch of legalese that I don’t understand, but I’ll try to recount it tomorrow, unless they throw me in prison right away, and don’t give me access to a computer. If that happens, my blog will just end. I don’t have any backup posts waiting on the schedule this time. Welp, it’s been real...or rather it hasn’t, because I’m making all of this up, ain’t I? Or am I? I am. Wait...oh no, I was right, this is all fiction.