a rush of blood

…You arrogant ass! I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so damn appalled. It’s a movie reference, thespian. You’re less a man of the silver screen than a man of the stage, huh?

I realized the reference, though, hardly the time for one. But, yes, I am a man more of the stage than of the "silver screen." Less computers involved in the theatre. 

Oh. you needn’t worry about that. Your darling Freyja is just fine. She’s just gotten a bit— I mean, I have just gotten a bit caught up in everyone else’s gloomy attitude. Shall I try to reclaim my optimism for you?

You've never been influenced by gloom before, though, most of it came from me. Yes, please, if you could be so kind. If both of us are pessimistic we'll just be such dreadful company.

…Well, nobody’s perfect.

Well, I am.

Look at me, going on like this like some worried hen. And I’m supposed to be the optimistic one.

Look at you indeed. When did you get all dark and gloomy about the future? That's supposed to be my role. Who are you, and what have to you done with my darling Freyja?

It may be foolish of me to put much faith in your assurances, but I have to believe you are right. There have been so many close calls already… Who is to say next time we won’t be so lucky? You can’t control it, but I am going to believe you can to keep from going mad.

We've been lucky up to this point; what's to say that luck will suddenly come to an end? I can try, and I swear I'll succeed. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Freyja; if I did, I-I don't know what I'd do with myself. 

But it would explain a lot about this journal thing— are you sure you’re not just deeply in character right now? We’re at the end of the 2090s, in case you didn’t know.

No I'm certain this is no character. It is simply what I've enjoyed and grown used to from the time I was a young boy in England.

If you say so, dude. That was really my main concern, but, tell me, if this whole medical doctor thing doesn’t pan out, have you considered a career in historical re-enactment? I know a few museums that would love to have someone on hand who knows how to use a quill.

Oh that would be absolutely delightful. You know, I did have a rather successful acting career at Cambridge. I'm sure historical reenactment would be right up my alley. 

Then I suppose that makes me a little foolish. You can be a wonderful role model when it comes to certain matters. Oh really? Well I’ll have to remind you of that the next time I irritate you to the point of madness with my worrying. I prefer seeing the two of us as equals, even if my teasing would make you think otherwise.

Well, perhaps when it comes to memorizing Shakespeare. In that case, I may as well be a deity. Darling, your teasing wouldn't make me think of us as anything but equals. Though, if I were forced to choose which of us is the better, I would, without even a moment of hesitation, choose you.

How— how is typing into premade forms more tedious than hand-writing everything into journals the rest of your staff then have no access to? Dehumanizing? I can’t— parchment? Look, there’s nothing wrong with old fashioned, but you gotta— those need to be digitized, no matter how you’re taking your logs down. You are absolutely sure you do not need lessons on recording or scanning in your work records?

Clearly you weren't listening properly because I said I knew how to use the medical equipment, that includes the database. Of course I'm not simply going to hand-write everything and make it inaccessible to my fellow officers. That would be horrible practice. I simply prefer the records for myself; it's far faster. I'm certain. I've been working this way since before med school, and it's how I'll work until the day I die.

Wait, filing? Journals? As in on paper? They gave you storage for this? What do you, have a records clerk on retainer or something? I’m maintaining shared databases for medical so medical can put data into them. You have a doctorate. Good God, man, what century are you from?— You do know holotabs have the same basic function as a notebook, right? There’s a stylus and everything.

Yes, on paper. A journal is filled with paper. I know how to utilize the database, I simply prefer not to. Far too tedious, with less of a personal touch. Dehumanizing, really, all this technology. Just call me old fashioned, then. I've been told they have that feature, yes, but the light bothers my eyes, throws me off. It's just not the same, the feel. It lacks the sound and satisfaction of a pen scratching on parchment. 

What you’ve earned with that education is responsibility. You are supposed to be a role model for society! Though I can’t object to a tiny bit of mischief when the time is right. I appreciate that, but you needn’t thank me. That is just what friends do; especially friends like me who have a bad habit of worrying overmuch.

Now where's the fun in that? If anyone sees me as a role model, then they're rather foolish. There, that's the spirit. Well, I wouldn't call it a bad habit. Though, you are certainly the better half when it comes to this friendship, my dear.

How the fuck— how did you not notice it was on? There’s a light. You have to hit a switch. It prompts you to enter an access code. I just— did you have that going off on all channels? …Do you understand just the sheer amount of paperwork I would’ve had to do if anyone reported that? Do you need lessons or something?

What do you mean "there's a light?" Wait, that's what that was? I thought I was recording a personal log. Freyja, or Dr. Bennett rather, is constantly pressing me to record personal logs rather than write them down in journals. She says it's essential, but I don't believe her. God, I was wondering why it was asking me for an access code. How should I know? I'm a doctor, not a computer technician. And no I don't need lessons. I know how to use medical and survey equipment, and that's all I need.

I don’t think I should grace such a foolish question with an answer. You know very well you get into trouble more than any man with a medical license ought to. As for worrying about you, I’m afraid I can’t help that. So you just remind Dr. Hargrave that if he even thinks about suggesting a challenge like that, we will be having a nice, long chat in the surgical room.

I think quite the contrary! With a medical license, I think I should have a warrant to get into far more trouble than I actually do. After all the education, I think I've earned it. You care so much, love; I suppose a thank you is in order here. Mmmm yes yes of course.

…Noted. And you’re so welcome? I mean, there’s pleeeeeenty more where that came from. And you “managed” yourself straight into being left behind on an away mission— based on that, I didn’t figure our little chat for being a privileged look behind the covers of Dr. Isaac Richardson’s book of secrets. Next time you need to vent, just stay off the fucking wire and stay out of my hair.

  How wonderful. Marlow simply couldn't handle my differing opinion, and that is why I was off the mission. In my defense, I didn't realize the com was on, and I was raised being told it was rude to simply ignore a start of conversation.

Good— I fully expect to hear one next time you ask for a favor. Now be a dear and try not to get into any trouble. I want you in a decent mood for the party, without the need of alcohol. 

Mmmm, only if you're lucky. Though, you seem to be lucky enough, so, perhaps, you'll get your request fulfilled. Now when do I ever get into trouble? Now you know I don't drink like I used to, so there's no need to worry about that. Unless Hargrave challenges me, then, well, it's on.

I was just trying to help you watch your stupid back, since you don’t have sense of a rat’s ass to do it yourself, talking stink li’dat on an unsecured intercom network. Excuse the fuck out of me for trying to be nice and save someone else some damn grief from our watchdog employers. I don’t care how you feel about Marlow, one way or the other. But I’m not a babysitter; you’re so determined to get in trouble, don’t bring me into it. I’ve got enough problems of my own.

You certainly have an interesting way of being nice. Thank you, I suppose; though, I'm afraid your efforts are for naught. I've very always managed myself and kept a cover over the things I say. I'm better at it than you may have concluded. I appreciate the concern though, sweetheart.