Saga ~ Who I am ~ - Dear Diary Challenge 2007, COMPLETED 12/21

Angst and mystery at the same time? I LOVE it. Poor bloke, he's in so much pain. I still don't get his whole backstory, though... but I'm sure it's just me.

Wonderful work, MsLanna! Exactly the kind of a well-written,'cynical' story that keeps you awake in the middle of the night, wondering what is happening, what was happening, and what will happen.

*applauds*

 

OK, c_a, you don't ever have to post here again, the comments in the betas, are all I need.

Hug him as much as you want, VaderLVR, maybe you can keep him in the end.

It is supposed to be a mytery, XANI. And the solution is still far away, it's a one year challenge after all. I'll keep scattering hints, though.

CrazyAni, I can only do cynical, or silly. And there is no back story I care to share as yet. You are not alone with your confusion.

---

[u]Day 7[/u]

I asked them why they kept me alive. I am nobody and it is expensive.
They say, that is what doctors do.
I do not believe them.

They said that I have such a dark tan, I must have been outside a lot. They are right. My skin is dark, almost brown. So I laid down and thought of outside. I take a walk in the park every-day. It gives me something to do.

I try to remember outside before the blackout. But I am not sure what I see, is it a positive or a negative? Is the rolling landscape around me made up from roaring waves in a black ocean, or is it made of sand dunes, bleached by the blistering sunlight? The sensation pouring over me, is it the heat of the sun scorching me, or torrents of rain in a storm whipping up the sea? Is it midday or black of night?

I don't know which image is right, light or darkness, night or day, positive or negative -- evil or good? Or is it that I am indeed standing between both sides, looking either way?

I can almost taste the rain on my face, this is important.
I can feel the dust grating between my teeth, this is important, too.

They say, just because I didn't see any land, it does not mean there wasn't any. They say, it does not have to be the whole planet, that is a desert. They are right. But if I do not believe that there was no land, because I saw none, I have nothing to start from.

I need the free use of a computer and they cannot give it. I will get it still. I don't know how yet, but I will. I need more information and they-

[i]They cannot help me -- this I know.[/i]

At least, they took the camera away. I am freer now in what I do.
I pace.
Realizing this, I stop myself and go to the gym. There I can walk for hours without end, to the end of the galaxy and back. It is sad that they have no simulations for walking between the stars. Not in real-time, of course, you'd never get anywhere.

They probably do it not to encourage megalomania. Imagine: the Queen of Coruscant walking amidst the stars. how soon would they all be her stars? Or tea kettles? I don't want to own the stars; I only want to own my past.

[i]One day I will -- this I know.[/i]

 

This was an absolutely haunting post.

I asked them why they kept me alive. I am nobody and it is expensive.
They say, that is what doctors do.
I do not believe them.



Lovely!

 

Thank you, VaderLVR, I do my very best. And it's always good to hear, I don't suck completely.

---

[u]Day 8[/u]

I read the journal - no, it's more than reading, it is looking back. The book has become something I remember, something I can relate to. I know that it is my memory. I seem to make progress in remembering, but it is too slow, much too slow.

Today they asked me about religion. They say that for some people it is the most important thing in life. I read some, I thought some. Getting access of a free computer is the most important thing for me. In a way, it is my religion. So until I reach this goal, the computer will be my sole God.

No, this does not look right. Sole God - sole god - solegod. That's about right, still not perfect, but I can't put my finger on the wrong bit. The computer is my solegod. Yes, it sounds right.

I found that religion is often about right and wrong. But as often it is biased. Some religions even claim that you cannot do any right if you do not belong to its followers. This cannot be right. That is nonsense. Right will always be right.

I remember --

I remember a teacher. He asked me the following: Imagine, in a room a man and a woman. the woman lies on a table and the man cuts her belly open?

I remember my answer. It was the right one and it was important to be right.

[i]Justice must think -- this I know.[/i]


[hr]

EDITED against annoying hyphenation

 

Short but nicely done! Especially loved this:

I found that religion is often about right and wrong. But as often it is biased. Some religions even claim that you cannot do any right if you do not belong to its followers. This cannot be right. That is nonsense. Right will always be right.

Bravo!

 

Thank you, Mama Vader. I found that I can easily voice ethics through him. The question is just, if he can keep his ethics, once he becomes himself again and has to venture out into the galaxy again.

---

[u]Day 9[/u]

They left me alone in the library.

I found a lot of data about computers. I also found out that I know a lot about them, too. I leafed through many data cards and it was as if a door opened in my mind and I came into a bright room of knowledge. It was almost like remembering.

I found I can convert my pad into a holonet receiver. I can also make it transmit. And I can do so without them finding out. But I must be careful, they must not notice.

Most things I need will be easy to get. Wire, insulation, tools - I can borrow those from the janitor's closet without him noticing. It is the transmitter/receiver that worries me most. I cannot steal that. It would be wrong.

I can ask spyboy. His whole room is full of broken electronics. He might be willing to give me what I need, if I can convince him that I am on his side.

It is sad to see him stare at empty monitors and tune broken switches. He welds with a broken piece of tube; he adjusts the frequencies on a broken cooking unit. If you go near him, he will accuse you of spying on him. But I have to go near him, I have to convince him.

I have a plan.


I asked them for a bag of stone-sweets.

They wondered why and I said I liked them. After exchanging meaningful glances, they wanted to know what else I like to eat, what I like to drink? What I don't like?

Living frogs, I said. I meant it, they taste disgusting.

They wanted to know how I knew. They had never served a living frog here.

I shrug. Most likely the same way people know that roasted boots would taste disgusting. But they are right. it is discouraging to see how I oscillate between knowing myself and being a complete stranger. But they made me think. I really do not know what I like to eat. The food in the hospital is okay, I guess. I do not know anything else.

If I am by chance a vegetarian for religious reasons, I hope the god in question would understand. I smirk. Right now I cannot think of myself as a very religious being.

 

If I am by chance a vegetarian for religious reasons, I hope the god in question would understand. I smirk. Right now I cannot think of myself as a very religious being.

I like this OC!

 

Wow, this is fascinating. I'd really like to be added to the PM list!

I'm not sure this has anything to do with anything, but is there a reason why suppose was spelled sup-pose? Or am I just weird and nit-picky? *Shakes head* It's probably the latter, but still.

 

Mama Vader. Again, I tell you, he is NOT an OC. Lancer is actually a canon character whom I chose to undergo this very special treatment. I don't like him very much. I think his identity will become clear soon. I have pictures involved in a future update...

Welcom DWB. (Why does that shortening sound so wrong?) Consider yourself added. And the only reason for an overabundance of hyphens in my updates that I often forget to disable the hyphenation in the document. Thanks for reminding me.

---

Day 10

They gave me the sweets today. I ate one immediately and offered them one, too. They declined. I can understand. They do not taste exceptional. But I have the first thing I need.

They asked me about the sweets of my childhood.
I don't know any. I am not sure that I don't remember or if there were none.
I like candy.
But did I get it when I was a child?
I do not know. I hope so, it would have made me happy.


I spent a lot of time around spyboy. I was not obvious about it. I am good at that. I found that nobody noticed I was doing things that would keep me close to him. He mutters to himself often. He is easy to overhear. I need to know what he fears most, I must know what he believes the Emperor is plotting against him. If he believes I am on his side, he will help me.

But it is a sad occupation.
Spyboy is living in a place I cannot enter. His universe is dark and sad, full of danger revolving around him like a maelstrom. Everything that occurs, happens to harm him, to cast him into oblivion.

I think many people think they are the centre of the universe, and for their small everyday life universes that might be true. But once you believe that to be true for everything - you end up here. I wonder why spyboy chose such a dark place.

Take the empress. Everything is revolving around her, too. She rules the galaxy, and her universe is full of love and adoration for her. Everything happens because she wants it to, everything is going as she pleases.In short, the universe she has revolving around her is good, while the universe spyboy created is bad. the truth lies somewhere in between.

I do not believe the galaxy revolves around me. Would it not have stopped, when I lost myself? Would it not have told me who I was, so it could go on?
There would be nothing much to revolve around. I'd sit in the middle of a million stars like a black hole.


I wrote a report about spyboy. I laid down a plan to poison him. Because I had spent the day overhearing his muttering, I could weave his own suspicions into it. Now I only have to present it to him in a way he will believe.

I laid aside a red stone-sweet to place in his jelly. Stone-sweets look like pills, or better, like people think pills look like. It is a joke, for children. In two days we will have jelly for dessert.

I kept the other sweets. I like candy, and even if it is not the best candy, I still do not like the thought of throwing it away. I eat another one.

 

They asked me about the sweets of my childhood.
I don't know any. I am not sure that I don't remember or if there were none.
I like candy.
But did I get it when I was a child?
I do not know. I hope so, it would have made me happy.

That section was short, but very poignant. Lovely!

 

Call me Dances. DWB, yeah, I get it sometimes, but I'd prefer not actualling being it. *Shakes head in horror*

So it turns out I'm a editing weirdo now! I can't catch my own mistakes, but I see others' minor things! I'm a literary hypocrite! I was trying to find clues to the person's identity, and I thought maybe you had hid things. But I guess I didn't really find anything, did I?

So Lancer isn't actually an OC? Interesting . . . Very interesting. Now, who might he be? It's after the Battle of Yavin, and he was talking about Vader, saying he was like him, but I still don't get it!

Anyway, wonderful post. Very poignant about the sweets, and the different universes spyboy and the empress were living in.

 

Thank you Mama Vader.


Welcome back, G__Anakin. Thought I had scared you away.

That's okay, Dances, I'm the same. But I'm always happy if I'm told about my mistakes so I can correct them.
Yay, let the guessing begin. I scattered hints through all posts, but I'm not sure how much EU you need to know to see them.

---

[u]Day 11 [/u]

I asked them the names of the other inhabitants. They never use them themselves, but they did have them, didn't they?

They say, I don't have enough names yet. I do not understand, so they explain. The woman who thinks she is my mother is called Linda, and the Queen' name is Anathena, spyboy is actually named Sinar, an the droideka is Landen.

But that is not all. Each of them has a second name. The first name is for the use of friends and family, the second name for strangers, and to keep them apart. They say, there are many women called Linda in the galaxy, but with the second name, the surname, it was clear who was meant.

I doubt them. There are so many people in the galaxy, certainly there will be more than one Linda Whatever around. But I hold my tongue. I nod.

They asked me which name 'Lancer' was. The second, I am sure about that. Even if it is not my real name at all, it would be my second name. I can't think of a first name, though. It feels strange, as if nobody had ever used a first name on me for forever.



At lunch I talked to spyboy.

"Psst," I called to him under my breath. "Don't look, just listen." From the corner of my eye I could see how he turned back to face his plate quickly.

"You are Sinar, right? I think you might be in trouble." I looked around and eat a little, trying to appear completely inconspicuous.

"I'll drop something when I leave, look under your chair before you go." Judging by his reaction, he believed me enough to have a look later on. My pseudo-professional spy affectations did their job well.

I finished my meal and when I passed spyboy's chair, I stumbled and dropped my tray. While I collected my plate and cutlery, I shoved the prepared report under his chair. Then I left and did not look back. If this worked, he would come to me.



I thought a lot about my lack of a first name. Maybe I really had none. But then, even the Emperor had one, though few might know it. With Palpatine, it was probably more difficult to get at his last name.

Maybe outstanding people have only one name, [i]need[/i] only one. If you said 'Palpatine' the probability that you meant the Emperor was much higher than anything else. The same was true for Vader. Emperor Palpatine, Darth Vader, and now Lancer? Where did he lose his first name?

 

Another great entry!

I thought a lot about my lack of a first name. Maybe I really had none. But then, even the Emperor had one, though few might know it. With Palpatine, it was probably more difficult to get at his last name.

Maybe outstanding people have only one name, need only one. If you said 'Palpatine' the probability that you meant the Emperor was much higher than anything else. The same was true for Vader. Emperor Palpatine, Darth Vader, and now Lancer? Where did he lose his first name?

Interesting....

 

you too, Mama Vader. Come and join the guessing. Though it will be very easy to guess from today on. Btw, I'm very grateful for your consistent commenting.

Warning, SPOILER! Click here to see a show-it-all picture of Lancer. I promise you instant recognition, even if it does not work for him.

---

[u]Day 12[/u]

Today they asked me about art. They showed me famous paintings, but I recognised none. Some were nice,; others were just blobs of colour and pint brush lines. I don't think all were made by humans, but they did not go into detail about it.

I looked at many paintings; they had several datacards full of them. I decided I didn't like abstract art. But neither was I fond of pictures that just copied what they depicted, mere replicas.

I liked pictures in between, those that showed things that were real, but with a twist; blue banthas, drawn with bold strokes with all edges and angles; or a Nubian garden cumulated from thousands of tiny smudges of colour. But best, I liked 'City in the Desert.' It was not really showing a city, because there was a sand storm, but if you looked from the right angle, you caught glimpse of the houses - yellow walls engulfed in the yellow swirls before and behind them, roofs almost visible through the curtain of dust.

It feels right to me. It feels like a picture of myself, all there, but hidden, almost visible but out of reach. I noted the name of the painter: Jasper Hen'da'dri. Maybe I can get a copy somewhere.


They gave me paint and a canvas to paint a picture of myself - of how I thought I should look. I stare at the white surface. I try to draw a sketch, but my drawing skills are nonexistent. It does not look like me, and even less like what I think I should look like.

I stare some more at the canvas and think. Maybe it is not important to be precise about this. Maybe it would be easier, it I tried it more in the way of the blue banthas. I paint the background first, it is all yellow and sandy, as in my favourite picture. I spend time on making little swirls of sand and thick brushes of paint.

Then I take the olive green paint and put an oval over the yellow, well, almost. I flatten the shape at the bottom, I need to add a neck and shoulders there. I use grey for the neck, and more olive for the shoulders. It looks abstract, not at all like a human, but so far I like it.

My fingers are splattered with colour. I wonder, and then -


I painted my face with the olive colour and then applied it to the canvas from there. The figure on the canvas is different now, a little more like me, and still less so. At least, I know where to put the eyes and nose now. I don't want to add ears at all, it seems wrong.

I used red and black for the eyes and nose, one line across the head where the eyes were, and one down in the middle. I painted the nose all the way until the head stopped, I didn't bother with a mouth. And then, I did add an ear, but only on the right side.

That was it. A swirly yellow background with a huge green blotch that was me with only one ear and no mouth. I read that the Nubian painter with the gardens cut off one of his ears, too. I wonder why, when it would have been easier just to paint yourself without it. That was me - more or less.



I looked at it for a long time and it was right, even though it was all wrong. I took a small brush and wrote in the low right corner 'Jasper Lancer's Alter Ego.'



I did not think of washing my face, so when spyboy came to my room, he was scared by my strange face paint.

"Disguise," I tell him secretively. "They cannot take a scan of my face when I obscure my features like this."

He nods and I hope I did not cause too much work for his guardian. If he insists on painting his face green every day, that might be trouble. I look up and down the corridor with much fussing. Then, in conspirator fashion, I closed the door, drew the shutters. Spyboy loo

 

I admit it! I'm one of those who reads the END of the book first. So of course I clicked! Loved it!

 

Glad you like the idea, Mama Vader. I'm sorry, I can't give you the end of this already,it's not written down yet.

---

[b]Day 13[/b]

They asked me why I had painted a Mandalorian.
I said, I had painted me.
Then I must be Mandalorian, they argued. The body armour was unmistakable.

I thought about it. I read about Mandalorains. The library is not very extensive, there was little about them. Apparently they are a race of warriors that had existed for a very long time. They sided with Sith Lords, had their own civil war - their whole lives seemed to centre around fighting.

I shook my head. It did not feel like the kind of life I wanted. Especially siding with Sith Lords did not seem to be a good idea to me. I had stumbled over a very dated essay about them on a lost datacard that I had found behind a shelf. The card had been so old, that I had to tweak the pad into reading it. It seems that with the New Empire, new technology had come, too.

When I read the essay, it seemed to be of little account. Only two Sith were known of at any time, and none had been seen for hundreds of years. In the light of this new information it meant something. My potential people did not seem to care about justice - not as long as it did not concern them.

It is not clear what became of them in the Clone Wars, the essay was too old to tell. Though they have their own planet, they are nomadic, which might explain why I am here and not home. Still it does not explain, why I am in no database. And nothing except the armour strikes me as really familiar. I will try to get some information about the language. But I will need the holonet for that.


Dinner went well. As announced we had jelly for desert, and spyboy, I must remember his name! [i]Sinar[/i] did not mind my company. I am not a danger anymore. So when I was clumsily reaching for the water and accidentally threw his fork to the floor, he just picked it up. And I had the precious moment I needed to put the stone-sweet into his jelly.

Of course, it was ridiculously obvious for a poisoning attempt. But it was just what he expected. I poured my water and offered him some. Instead he exchanged our glasses and I poured for myself again. We ate in silence, and Sinar kept glancing around nervously. Like that, he would not find the sweet, until it was too late.

"What is that?" I asked him when he started on his dessert.

Sinar stared at his jelly, his eyes turning to slits. Then he carefully put his plate down and poked its content with his spoon.

"Looks like a sweet," I went on. "Why didn't I get one, too?"

The look on Sinar's face was priceless. A mixture of incredulous disbelief and astonished annoyance.

"Stupid," he hissed. "That is not candy, that is to poison me!"

I fake surprise and immediately inspect my own jelly closely.

"There's nothing in mine." I confirm in the end. "What are you going to do?"

"I must pretend I ate it, otherwise they will force me." Sinar looked around furtively.

"What if you ate mine?" I suggest. "Then I give your back and it will seem that I didn't eat the dessert."

"That is a good idea," he agrees.

Quickly we swap our plates and he begins to eat with much ado. In the end he hands in empty plates and feels mighty relieved at having fooled his persecutors.

"Meet me tomorrow," he whispered at me as we leave the refectory.

I nod imperceptibly and we go separate way.
[i]
I will get my parts now - this I know.[/i]

 

Quickly we swap our plates and he begins to eat with much ado. In the end he hands in empty plates and feels mighty relieved at having fooled his persecutors.

"Meet me tomorrow," he whispered at me as we leave the refectory.

I nod imperceptibly and we go separate way.

I will get my parts now - this I know.

I hope everything works out.

A wonderful post!

 

Well, seems that revealing his identity scared everybody else away. I'm happy yopu're still her Mama Vader.
In the end things will work out. Just the how is depending on what actually happend to Lancer to get him into psychiatry....

---

[u]Day 14[/u]

I looked into the mirror today and did not shave my head. Now that I know it was the helmet I imagined, it does not make sense any longer. I had hair before, maybe growing it back will help me remember. Still the face staring back at me seems strange.

I went to meet Sinar after breakfast. He was sitting in his mess of broken electronic and tried to hammer an transponder into the outlet of a stripped down washing machine with a hydrospanner. When he saw me, he stopped and got up.

"Did anybody see you come?" he demands?

I shake my head.

He nods.

"Has there been another attempt on your life?"

Now he shakes his head. "Not yet, but I think they will try again." He points at the broken washing unit. "I'm working on an early warning system for poisonous gas, it is almost finished."

I take a long look at his construction. The barrel of the washing unit was stuffed with wires and electronic parts that were only partly interconnected. He had placed an old exhaust hood on the unit, cables were coming out of it at odd places, too.

"A good idea, but what about the meals?"

He shrugs and picks up a handful of circuit boards. "I must be careful."

I pick up an empty case for screws and a thin band of transparisteel, I argue with myself. It is not good to encourage Sinar's world view, but I need his help. And it could not become much worse than now for him, could it?

"If you have some sensors left, I could put something together," I finally say. "You would have to carry it in a pocket, but with a wristband, you should get the sensors close enough to your food to check it."

Sinar stares at me for a while. Then he nods. But instead of sensors, he gives me a colourful mix of capacitors, transistors and resistors. I take some thin wires and begin to string them together like a necklace, placing them in the case at the same time. I add an old energy cell and make sure a piece of wire looks out so I can connect it with the one leading to the wristband.

It's like playing. I wonder if I played games in my childhood, and which kind. Did I like to play Smugglers and CorSec or did I prefer toys and games inside? I can't remember. It is as if I had never played at all in my whole life.

I enjoy putting the fake poison recogniser together. And for an instant I can understand spyboy and his dark universe.

Finally, I close the case, check the connections of the wires and the clasp of the wristband. Sinar watches me, and I hold out the device.

Sinar turns the gadget over in his hands for a while. "You're good with your hands. Did you do this before?"

"I don't know. As I said, my memory is erased. But if I am hunted, I'm prepared. I found out that I am good with computers and weapons, too."

"Tell-tale signs," Sinar agrees. "What will you do next?"

I lower my voice and move a little closer to him. "I wanted to convert my pad to a transmitter/receiver for the holonet. Then I can search it for more information in secret. I have almost everything together, I need, too."

"If there is something you can use," Sinar said, indicating the mess in his room.

I looked around and soon had all the pieces together I would need. But all of Sinar's so called 'tools' were either broken or to coarse I couldn't borrow any of those. But I knew how I could get at the tools of the janitor, that would not be a problem.

After helping him put on his new poison sensor, I thanked Sinar and told him again to be careful. Then I eased open the door, looked around carefully and slipped out. I would wait until bed time to break into the janitor's closet. The security measures were not very strict. Another hint that this was indeed just a madhouse, not a disguised high security prison.


I have thought about being Mandalorian.
That would

 

Whoa! Great update. I love his thoughts as he considers his identity.

I have thought about being Mandalorian.
That would mean that I had worn armour, it would explain a lot.

It explains why my face always looked wrong to me. The helmet does a bad imitation of a face. I look at my picture and compare it to my face - the similarities are minimal. The size, the approximate shape, but you already need some fantasy to make the horizontal and vertical slits into eyes and nose. The helmet has no mouth, no ears, no cheekbones, no chin.

I wonder why I hide my face behind such a mask so much, that it seems to be more my real face than my flesh and bone features. I am not ugly or misshaped. Am I running? Hiding myself in plain view?

Wonderful! And that last line was killer.

 

Well, Mama Vader, the considering is far from done, actually, it's only about to begin. And finally, he has somthing to think about, too.

---

[u]Day 15[/u]

My name is Boba Fett.

I recognised my picture the moment I saw it. That man in Mandalorian armour, that was me. Only that I seem to be alive and going on with business as usual, as well as sit here in this institution. It does not make sense.

I got my pad working as transmitter/receiver and last night. I was then to tired to try it immediately, but this morning I went into the holonet right after breakfast. It is vast and though most of it seems censored heavily by the government there are pockets of pure anarchy, too.

I looked at the official records first. It seems the Mando'ade did not get out of the Clone Wars well. They were conquered by the Empire and annexed. I think that means enslaved. Now they work for the Empire and the most notorious of them is Boba Fett - me.

I cannot believe it. And it is not as if everything about my life came back top me in a blazing moment of epiphany. I remembered my name, my profession, my ship. I do have a ship, as I told them - the [i]Slave I[/i], and the reason I didn't see her among the other vessels is so obvious: she is a prototype, only six of them have even been built. I modified her heavily, and I even know where I put her down on Coruscant.

But she is not there anymore. The holonet is full of articles about my latest exploits, the bounty heads I brought to the Empire or a Hutt called Jabba. The name is familiar, though I cannot fathom why I should do something like this. Too much of me is still missing. But somebody else is prowling the galaxy in my armour, under my name, with my ship.

Who?

Did he erase my memory on purpose, to usurp my position? Is he an old rival I have forgotten? I need more memories. So I will read more about the Mando'ade and about me. I will read until I know everything. I want my moment of enlightenment, when everything in my past is suddenly making sense.

What bothers me, is that I cannot tell the doctors. They would not believe - this I know. I must research in secrecy until I have proof. And I need to go to the place where I was found. I know I will remember what happened then. Now that I know who I am, my life can begin again.


They asked me about Sinar today.
I said I liked him.

They say I must not encourage his delusions. They have seen the manoeuvre with the jelly. That must not happen again. I am forbidden to talk to him about the Emperor and his plans to kill him. I am not to help him build his electronic devices. They will cut off all contact if I don't follow their orders.

I nod; I say I understand.
But I am sad. Sinar will not understand if I turn my back on him now. And I do not feel like doing it anyway. Maybe, I should just tell him that the doctors forbade me to help him. At least, that would make sense in his world. I don't like to leave him alone in his world, it's dreary enough as it is.

But then, I couldn't have stayed forever anyway, could I? Now that I know who I am, I have to move on. Get my memories back, get my life back. I couldn't have stayed.

I sigh. I wish I could help Sinar.

 

They asked me about Sinar today.
I said I liked him.

They say I must not encourage his delusions. They have seen the manoeuvre with the jelly. That must not happen again. I am forbidden to talk to him about the Emperor and his plans to kill him. I am not to help him build his electronic devices. They will cut off all contact if I don't follow their orders.

I nod; I say I understand.
But I am sad. Sinar will not understand if I turn my back on him now. And I do not feel like doing it anyway. Maybe, I should just tell him that the doctors forbade me to help him. At least, that would make sense in his world. I don't like to leave him alone in his world, it's dreary enough as it is.

But then, I couldn't have stayed forever anyway, could I? Now that I know who I am, I have to move on. Get my memories back, get my life back. I couldn't have stayed.

I sigh. I wish I could help Sinar.

Each entry just gets more and more interesting! I'm loving this.

 

Boba is quite the character, isn't he? I like the regret he feels over having to leave Sinar back in his spy-world, all alone. It's a bit disconcerting, knowing somewhere deep down the scary armored man with the jet packs that freaked me out as a kid is really human. But I like it. It fill out his character.

 

This is great. Could you PM me when you update?

 

Haunting!

*shivers!*

And I am annoyed with myself that I check your bio so seldom, dear! You are brilliant!