Dearest,
Things have been in great turmoil here, nerves on edge, tempers tempestuous, raised voices have been heard on more than one occasion. Of late though things have calmed, perhaps we have realised that there is nothing at present that we can do, and all our heated words will serve as naught; instead we have perforce resigned ourselves to a sort of quiet, but dreadful, fatalism. This is perhaps how it must feel to be on a sailing ship at sea, waiting on glassy seas, knowing that soon the storm will come and rend and tear every sinew and fibre with it’s unstoppable ferocity.
It seems quite probable that many of us will be called into service, our unique talents giving us special abilities that might help turn the tide in our favour, or one hopes towards peace and favour for all. There has even been some talk among us of trying to remain together as a unit, during our time here together at the Almayer Inn we have bonded often strangely, but strongly nonetheless. It would seem almost unnatural somehow to separate, like saying farewell to ones family in the certain knowledge one would never seem them again. This is yet to be seen though, although we are not without our connections. The upper echelons of the political and military leadership seem to have been thrown into some disarray, hopefully they will accept any reasonable idea suggested to them.
This will also see us going off-planet, many of us, myself included, for the first time in our lives. My stomach is still unsure whether to host butterflies in excited anticipation or cramp tight in fear at the thought of going up that seemingly fragile space elevator, at the other end to blast off into the dangerous unknown… One we may never return from, one which could mean I can never deliver these missives into your waiting hand. Troubling times indeed.
For now there is not much else of any import to report, Mrs Pistachio the baker has finally given birth to the bun in her own oven, it’s a girl weighing in at a magnificent 9lb 2oz, the poor woman was rather overwhelmed at all the attention, it seemed the whole village came round to coo and cuddle, a very pleasant reminder that even in times such as these the miracle of life goes on.
Now I must go and pack, we must these days be ready to leave at a moment’s notice if need be.
Hoping you remain safe,
Bartleboom, Phd.