Friday 22 November 2013

**no transmission date**

**private diary note**

**AAA security**

I know that this is unusual for me; a private diary entry. Privacy, like morality is a things of the past, and the past is dead to us. Isn't it?

But things aren't usual, and I feel ... I feel ... I need secrecy. Perhaps that too is the wrong word. What I'm trying to say is that I need to clarify my thoughts to myself, to examine what I'm thinking. To write it down and then examine it back. I feel I'm missing something, that I'm aware of something but not conscious of it. Perhaps it is just a side effect of the Caprican Learning Narcotics. Is there anything even wrong.

For the last few weeks those of us chosen as part of the engineering team have been erecting (sorry but I love that word) part of the shielding apparatus that will protect Worthing from the heat death of the universe. The work is demanding and it's been necessary to develop new soft flesh simulacrums. They are like dumb, giant children, designed purely to lift and assemble the dense metal shielding components. They're made the same way our sex bodies are made, but blunt. They are without major nervous systems, so they feel very little; taste, smell touch are blurred like their semi human faces. Pin pricks for eyes and ears, two ragged torn slits to allow nasal breathing and a mouth. Communication is still required between us. That's right, we have to essence jump into them. And if there is something wrong, it's something to do with that.

There's something familiar about them. Like a memory that haunts you or a phrase that's on the tip of your tongue. No matter how hard I try; I can't say the phrase or recall the memory. But what frightens me most is that I'm not alone. When I raised the idea with Ramjet, he alluded to the same thing.

Why would we both share the same fear?

There's a production meeting soon. I'll have a word President Savage and see what he thinks.

Anyway, I have more learning pills to consume. And I feel tired. Which is unusual too.

Goodnight. Secret Diary.

**end transmission**

**network closed**

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