[Name Subject to Change]

Chapter 2 - During the Eighth Pioneering

-Chapter II

"Distance"

Chronological Record - 25 - During the Eighth Pioneering

>Effective Bio-Age, 17Y

>Cumulative Bio-Age, 23Y

>Estimated Chronic Displacement : 38.5Y

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And, once again, I put my pencil to paper as I strive to create a story that I can enjoy; an act of creation performed by the gentle light of a candle, a soft glow that I've grown used to, and one that I find just a bit more natural than even the lights of my childhood. This wouldn't be the first time that I've written a story on a mission, and it certainly won't be the last: all things considered, it's one of the few luxuries that I can still allow myself that. Then again, it's more so a luxury that, even now, I'm still able to use my mechanical pencil to write on paper. It's a habit that I cultivated in school, and one that still serves me well in the lands through which I travel. At the same time, it's more energy efficient than using a Screen, and by the same token, I'm using a candle as opposed to my suit's lamp. It's probably best to conserve energy, even if we don't necessarily need to worry about it. But I digress. And I draw the letters onto the page.

"Yeah... Hello? It's me again. How're you? ... Ah, I see. Well, I'm just calling to see if everything's alright on your end. How's Vei doing? ... And the kids? ... That's good to hear."

The ache in my chest complains to me that the words aren't flowing like they're supposed to, but I can't bring myself to remove the graphite from the paper. I put my pencil back to the sheet, hoping that the words might just flow on their own, but its movement stalls the second I try to write another letter. In the end, I set aside the notebook and pencil and draw up my knees to my chest, an attempt at a buffer against the cold.

Even if I've set aside the paper and pencil, my mind continues to track various possible ideas for the continuation of the passage. It's a phonecall of some sort, that much I can conclude. Also, despite the main character saying "It's me again", it's very likely that she hasn't called the recipient in a long time. She could be leaving a message, or she could be conversing with whoever picked up the phone. "Vei" might be the husband of the person she called. Or wife. The name's adequately ambiguous for it to be either way, now that I think about it. On that note, Vei could also be a sibling of the recipient, and the "kids" could belong to either of them.

But then the last sentence is somewhat designed to be somewhat... resigned? Spoken in a sigh, with a sad smile that will never be seen by the recipient of the call. A bittersweet scene.

So it goes like this: The main character, the caller, is an old friend of the recipient, either someone who loved him but either was turned down or never confessed to him, or just misses him greatly. She hasn't spoken with the recipient in years, and is more or less happy to be able to hear his voice. Vei is probably the recipient's wife, and she asks how Vei is doing out of courtesy, but she isn't really interested in her; The same situation for the children. She doesn't wish ill on them, however, because she knows that the recipient cares for them, thus the "Good to hear". However, the person she cares about the most is the recipient.

"An immense amount of subtext data for two lines, don't you agree?" I look up from my knees to see Azure's familiar figure as she stands in the room's doorway. As she proffers a visibly sympathetic smile, I respond with a hopefully clearly lopsided one. "Hello, Azure." With an amused sigh, she steps out of the doorway and towards me as I bury my face back into my arms, but not so deeply that I can't see her anymore. I keep my eyes unobstructed as I watch her analyze me, then the room.