Memoir: 20410301

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I found this little drawing discarded in the Rec Room. I
almost didn’t keep it, but there’s something so sad about
it… I can’t help but thnk it was done after Picon.

How many of the officers and enlisted serving aboard the
Cerberus lost children? How many are from Picon> And
there’s been no word from the Colonies — at least no
word that’s rolled down for me to catch wind of. Even
Sawyer seems out of the loop.

I haven’t exactly made a lot of friends here. That’s the
danger of operating with a deadline and a bottom line.
Annoying the piss out of Ramon doesn’t seem to important
today. That’s probably only because we haven’t had a
conevrsation recently. Still. Ramon is all that’s left of
my family. I don’t feel this loss as deeply as some.

I received my telegram of suck some weeks
ago when Ramon phoned to tell me Promise wanted me
to come see her in the hospital — the hospital in which
she refused to let me step lest I see her ‘all messy’
without her hair and face done up. Vanity, woman. I
can’t tell you how terrified I was, in that moment, when
I walked into her room, and she asked me to make her
face one last time. Terrified of eyeliner. It’s been a
couple of weeks, and I still have a little trouble doing
mine.

I look at that little drawing of a tree swing, and all
I can think is that there could be hundreds of childless
parents aboard, having nightmares about empty backyards
and empty tree swings, and blasted and boiled, empty
little playgrounds. What good is serving the Colonies if
you can’t even keep your own children safe? This line of
self-questioning is getting depressing.

I only have a goldfish at home, and I’m not even that
attached to him. His name is Goldfish. He stares at me
all the time with those big creepy eyes. I’ve been think-
ing about flushing him.

I’d make a horrible parent.
Santi