Jan. 5th, 2009

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Today, she is making a long foray into the Classics, venturing into one of the darker, dustier corners of the Virtual Library.  She packs a rucksack with a packet of sandwiches, a thermos of tea, and her notes.  The walk is long and convoluted, mostly she thinks because this is how CAL thinks she wants it to be.  And that's alright.  A good long hike is always appreciated.  It makes her feel less like a collection of electrons and more like a real person.  (Awhile back, she had to explain to CAL about the smash cuts, and how disconcerting they were to a human.  She was not a soap opera character.  She wanted ALL the minutes of her life, even the boring ones.)

She admires the labyrinthine stacks, the old wooden tables and doors.  Her memories flow back to the real Library, the last physical place she ever existed.  And the last time she saw him.  Her eyes glittered with unspilled tears, but she smiled regardless.  His was a memory of love.  Nothing there to be sad about.

Up ahead she heard the ghost of voices, different dialects overlapping in a gentle sea of sound.  The books were talking.  She followed the voices, switching over between aisles, chasing them up and over cat walks, along the rim of a terrifying, bottomless chasm until she came to a door. 

Another day, another adventure.


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River Song

November 2009

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