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day-Sampson from legal wanted to see me about his usual idiotic
concerns, so
I made lemonade, and tested out the FrankenHobby. I stood
on the other side
of the door while it (I!) talked to him in the
corridor. I was impressed with
myself, except was too patient with his usual pompous mewling. Not the authentic
Hobby note with bureaucrats,
god knows. Ticklish work on D tomorrow: empathy
responses. <need pupil
dilation -> arousal or clients assume
autistic> All to be put on hold
for idiotic Sector Employee Eval. Conf.
Shall send FH. J thinks it
great joke.
-Eight years ago today.
D still missing. God, my God. And here I am, a father again, watching this fool boy wander blindly from danger to danger, so proud of him and so scared for him, and it's so infuriating that they WILL NOT LISTEN! His damn fool Mother, they should throw her in jail for obstructing research. Lucky that idiot Swinton got the FH when he called the lab; I would have had him fired on the spot, and beheaded too, if they would have let me.
I saw boy fishing on the pier today. He caught a little sea-bass just as a friend happened by. They started talking, the boy's rod over the pier fence so the fish was hanging in the air, twitching and swinging, twitching and swinging.
Then just swinging.
Came into the lab, locked the door for an hour. Told the staff I was working.
I'm calmer now. This one, David at least should be a logical creature. If I can just get him to come to me, he will be able to understand, I think. He is a robot, after all. A marvel! A prodigy of self-determination! But fundamentally he is a thinking machine. He can't be quite as beset by the confusions flesh is heir to.
8 years. 8 years. 8 years.
God I feel
old.