The abridged and translated journals of
Dr. Daniel Jackson Ph.D.
With all the boring technical crap cut out by
Vala Mal Doran
(You're welcome)
Translations from Arabic:
Jack O'Neill
Translations from Ancient Egyptian *cough* Goa'uld
Vala MalDoran
Published via SGC's (unofficial) daily newspaper
by installment
Editor: Walter Harriman
*All dates written European-style per Daniel's original
A dusty leather journal sits on the shelf of Daniel's apartment. It's the first one, the most expensive one.
The first 14 pages of his journal are rubbings of burial masks, done in crayon, but with the precision of a professional anthropologist. Field notes, in Arabic on the side, mostly copying down what he'd heard his parents say; a few, semi-original thoughts of his own.
Then there is a long silence, five months, but in the journal it is only a single blank leaf.
Then, nine year old Daniel Jackson begins to tell his own story.
11.06.1973
Dr. Moon says I should talk to you. Well, fine, but I'm not going to do it in English. Ever since I've come to this place, they've said I was shy and quiet. I didn't speak because I didn't understand their language. I didn't speak it.
So I'll write this journal. But I'm writing to you, my parents, not them. So it's happening in Arabic.
I'm pissed. Yep, I know a swear word. That's what you get for letting me hang out with the village boys. So you took me away from community, from home. From a place where we take care of anyone who needs it.
You took me to America for two weeks and left me here forever. I don't know anyone here. They don't take care of me like they did at home. I am all alone.
I asked you to play with me, and you worked, and then you died. That damn stone.
Turns out I know two swear words. I'll learn a few more, and get back to you.
13.06.1973
You guys know I wasn't really mad, right?
I mean, I am mad, but I'm not mad at you guys. I love you guys. I would do anything to have you back in my life.
I'm mad that you died. And if you guys are in some place where you could actually know what I'm writing, whether we're talking about the field of rushes or heaven, I think you would probably agree with me. It sucks that you had to die.
Before you died, I used to think you were so old, ancient, but you weren't, were you? Your lives were just beginning. You went to school for such a long time, and then after school you got married, and went off for your adventures.
Then you waited for me. Yeah, I remember that sweet story Mom used to tell me about how you waited eight years for me to be born, hoping all the time.
I figure you probably wished I had siblings too. But I don't (which is probably just as well now).
I think you were robbed, because you only got to do half of the raising of me, but you know what else? I think I was robbed, too, because I only got eight years with you.
So I'm mad, but not at you. You guys were great parents, you just deserved a whole lot more.
15.06.1973
You want to know what I miss the most? People talking to me like I'm a human. I'm tired of people speaking to me like I'm a baby, or like I can't understand them. I think some of it is because I wasn't familiar with the language for so long, but I think most of it is this American culture where people think children are stupid. Where I came from they were treated like little adults.
I liked that a lot better.
I'm tired of people talking around me not talking to me. It's gotten worst since they started making me go to Dr. Moon. They seem to think that I am some delicate little flower who is going to break at any moment.
What they don't understand is that gold gets stronger when it is tested by fire. People are the same way. When a person has been through something that is truly awful, and they don't fall apart, well, then they are never going to fall apart.
I'm fine. I didn't talk for three months after you died, but that was as much about the language as it was about the trauma.
So I guess I did want you guys to know that I was fine.
18.06.1973
I thought Dr. Moon was going to be mad that I was writing the journal in Arabic. Actually, I wanted him to be mad, that was kind of why I was doing it. I wanted him to give up on me, because if he gives up on me because I'm naughty, then at least I am going to know why he gave up on me.
He wasn't mad though. He just looked at the journal, sat back in his chair, and looked at me for a good long moment before he said, "This Arabic?"
I nodded, somewhat impressed that he was able to identify the language that quickly. Maybe he has some of that natural linguistic ability that Momma was always accusing me of having.
"Why do you feel like you have to hide, Daniel?" Dr. Moon asked, and damn it all anyway, but it sounded like he actually gave a crap.
I shrugged my shoulder.
He smiles, "My dear, you may be able to fool those people who take care of you into thinking you are selectively mute or whatever they brought you in here for. I know that you just don't feel like telling them anything."
I squirmed. He looks into my eyes with a smile, patiently waiting for me to spill my guts.
I didn't, but I really wanted to.
Psychology = black magic.
24.06.1973
I've studied for this meeting. I read everything in the elementary library about psychology. Then I walked the two miles to the public library, and continued reading. He is never going to trick me again.
25.06.1973
Dr. Moon is learning Arabic.
Well, you jerk, no more writing for you.
-0-
Jaffa Joke of the week:
A guard of Set, and a guard of Apophasis met on a neutral planet. The guard of Set's mouth drools.