Appetence

Archive Log: 18

"I don't understand," which Minerva didn't as she stood in front of the desk back at home. Of course, as if her father was going to stop working just because they had got home. As if. Pigs would fly before that man stopped working. He just never stopped. She had said about rest, and he had just flippantly looked at her. Nice to see that he cared that she worried for him, she didn't see his other daughter giving much of a damn.

"Minerva, look at me." So she did, she stared, she stopped blinking and just stared at him. "What do you see?" Weyland stood the opposite side of the desk and even stretched his arms wide for dramatic affect.

"A person." She said quietly. "A...person who looks extremely tired."

"That's because I am." He admitted quietly to her with a sigh. He sat down and brushed a hand through his hair before flicking his eyes over the items on his desk. He looked up slowly, "Minerva, by the time all of this is finalised, who knows what could happen." This caused her to frown at him, Weyland just looked at her simply. "I must admit to you, that I have not been well for a while. I didn't want to concern you, but this hospital stay just proves it."

"Proves what?"

Weyland smiled somewhat cynically at her, "I am getting old."

Minerva tilted her head, she looked about the office before slowly seating herself too. Weyland watched her with hardly an expression on his face. She placed her hands in her lap, and opened her mouth to say something, before shutting it. "You fear getting old?"

He laughed, Minerva raised an eyebrow. It didn't sound like a humorous noise, blunt sounding and a little patronising. "Do I fear getting old? No. It's inevitable."

"What you fear is dying? Or...dying and not being remembered?" Minerva asked while fidgeting a little in the chair. "Do you know, that I remember dying? You didn't exactly do a brilliant job at censoring what you programmed back into me."

Weyland looked at her frankly, leaning forwards he rested his arms against the desk. "I did it purposely. So then you would understand."

"Understand the unknown of dying?" Minerva shook her head and looked at her lap. "There is nothing after, unless...you want to come back?"

"No." Weyland said flatly.

"Didn't think so." Minerva ran a hand through her hair before sighing. "So, your idea to be stashed away on this ship is so that when it comes to us finding answers, you can come in at the last moment and see for yourself?" Weyland just looked at her, the silence was an answer enough. Minerva sighed, "You could just come aboard with everyone else."

"Minerva, I am dying." That was so sudden it caught her off guard. She looked at him with wide eyes. "Age catches up to everyone and by the time this mission comes to fruit, it has been estimated that I would've already been back in hospital several times. The likelihood of another episode appearing is high, and when it does, it's likely to do more damage to me."

"Isn't there something you can do?" Minerva frowned, "With all this technology, what use is it if it can't help you now?"

Weyland sighed, standing he walked around until he was beside her. He crouched down, looking at her hands in her lap, he reached out and took a hold of them. "I am not afraid, Minerva." He said instead, giving a rare smile upwards at her. "Why don't you go and find something more productive to do. Surely trying to lecture me wasn't what you intended to do with the rest of your day?" Weyland raised an eyebrow as he unsteadily stood back upright and walked slowly, with shuffling like steps, back to his desk. He grabbed a small handful of papers off another table as he passed before sitting himself down. Unrolling the plans which he seemed to have picked up, he flicked his eyes up to her.