(deeper, scratchier, pompous voice) The sun rises on us yet again. It’s a mixed blessing, to be sure. It’s nowhere near as warm as I would like it to be, but it’s certainly better than no warmth. And then this different skin… it almost feels appropriate. It brings a dozen feelings of perversion to mind. It’s all just very confusing. So, I often find that it’s easier to turn to more mundane matters. And so the sun has risen on us yet again, like clockwork. That’s what the resident people of this world say, and it’s a decent enough simile. Of course their clockwork is much less efficient than the sun, and much more primitively made than our own timepieces, but you can go about missing those too, if you want.
I’ve sent 14 operatives east, last I spoke. Things are getting nasty out there. Nasty in a “I think they’re going to try and kill all of each other again” sort of sense. The native folks are especially good at that. There are many things which are impressive about these homo sapiens, but their incessant capacity to despise each other, and thereafter slaughter each other… it’s definitely something else. Feels very different having to fight living individuals, rather than institutions or the laws of the universe. It’s… it’s a level of action which I can’t fully appreciate, nor do I believe that you can appreciate either. Although, from your mass reports it seems that you are better adapted to this skin than I ever could. We’ll get there someday. Although, I’m not sure if I ever want that “someday” to come, especially if it brings into me all the inclinations of the natives.
We’re hoping that the squad will be able to simmer down tensions before they result in a full blown war. I’m doubting that even our skilled peoples will be able to mollify these tantrum pitchers, but there’s hoping. We can count on one and a… half hands how many conflicts we’ve stopped. But that is crucially more than zero, and considering that we have not lost a single one of our kindred ot getting lost in their operations, which is always a problem… considering that we haven’t lost anyone yet, I feel like we have to commend ourselves for doing what we have done. Certainly, I’d rather prefer if we could stop these creatures developing their weaponry before they theoretically create something which could toast their ecosystem, which I feel they’re dangerously close to doing… hopefully we can stop that, but… it is doubtful. It’s a never ending struggle with these folks. We’re still drawing out the plans. We’ve chartered out fifteen different possible relations charts, and we’re hoping to get them into the right claws. Sorry, hands. If even a thousand of the wildlings are saved, I’d say we did a good thing. Always more than zero. If we don’t look to that, we will feel as though we are constantly losing. If we can control our own inputs of evil and destruction into the world, and propagate some of our own good… we must always be looking to push that balance over. And I would say that we are successful in that, and past that we shouldn’t really worry. We have done our part, and we will continue to do our part. Maybe someday we will come up with some stratagem that will allow us to end the conflict of this warlike species, and thus claim their trust, and possibly claim our old world in tow. We can always hope for that, we can always strive for that, but we shouldn’t feel bad about ourselves for failing to attain that end goal. Because there are plenty alternatives for what we could be.
Plenty of alternatives. Most of which I do not like, and which you should not feel angry at me for espousing such hate. It always strikes me as odd that the natives have a dislike for each other based on their physical characteristics. But then of course pretty much all of the hatred that this species espouses feels foreign to me. Not completely foreign, of course, but foreign enough that it makes my scales crawl. Feels extraordinarily odd, beneath the prosthetic. We could be like our hosts, or we could be like the ones back home, too. And, judging by the signals you’ve been receiving, I hate that I was proven right. I don’t know what… we can’t be jumping to conclusions yet, and I don’t want you making the information public if you can. IF I am right, I would prefer to take that information to the grave, and I hope you would do so as well. Nothing good can be gotten by having our lot informed. Then again, I have the thinking of this native race, grinding into my skin, in my mind again. I know of course that every moment is of the essence, and if we impair each other by forcing sadness on them by delivering this news, then how will we be able to establish our mission here? What good will we be able to do if we are racked by grief? Not enough, certainly.
But… I expect much from our kin, but I don’t expect so much that they would be able to take this new in stride, if it was true. But then there is much value, of course, especially if this is the truth, and we are… permanently… exiled… that is news that even though it might disrupt our mission temporarily, it is worth letting everyone know that our goals have changed. Because we can’t even detect a single signal from the star, besides that of natural cosmic phenomena… I can’t come to any alternative. We’ll keep it under wraps for the time being. Does that sound good? I think that we can justify this to ourselves by saying that the readings aren’t conclusive, least not yet. Keep your sattelites turned towards home, least for another… I don’t know how long. There’s always the possibility of a volatile solar flare having temporarilly knocked out their communications… but our star is not especially known for being volatile. And… if the communications were wiped out… you know how fast the eggs would wither. But the sun rose again today. It feels decent, even through the prosthetic, so who am I to complain. I hope you’re doing fine as well. And, if you feel like it, I would suggest running west for a bit, maybe into the mountains. I don’t expect the conflict to reach into there. Though their weapons grow more versatile and gruesome by the day, they are still held back by geography. Can’t really have tank treads on ice, now can you? I’ll give them another seventy years for that. I will always hope to see you safe and sound.