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Through a Stranger's Eyes

Private journal of Molly Ossman

Excerpt 1

Crap…what's the date? It's tough when you're living on a moon with a different day-night cycle, not to mention the relativistic effects of space travel. Could probably find that out somehow, but my Avatar can't exactly fit in the main base, can it? It's hard enough to even hold this pen, considering that I can't get a laptop in the compound.

I don't know how long I have left here. Dad's in a coma and will no doubt be shipped back to Earth at some point. Do I regret that? Yes. Do I regret helping Nok? No. Do I worry about the fact that without dad here, his barging with the RDA is effectively rendered null, and there's no obligation to keep me here anyway? Yes. And I don't only regret that, but I fear it. There's only so much that I can do, and since those things don't involve biology or ballistics, chances are that I'll be disconnected for the last time, placed in a coma, placed in stasis, then be placed back in a coma until someone back home manages to get me out of it.

Wonder if my Avatar can come along? Probably not. Doctor Augustine has managed to convince Selfridge to let me use my body at will, and Falco's willing to tolerate it as long as I don't go "fucking with the blue monkeys," but adding a whole body to an ISV? Doubt it'll happen. And besides, I don't think walking around on Earth as a blue giant would go down well.

I feel like a stranger either way. Wherever I am.

Maybe the coma is the only real home I have left.

Excerpt 2

Found a hole in the fence. I can get out now. Maybe I can see Nok again.

Excerpt 3

Maybe not. Crap. I'm only now realizing how big this moon is. Without a Samson or Scorpion to fly me around, I can only get so far. And how would I get into one either?

I envy the na'vi. They got to fly for thousands of years, whereas we've only been doing it for a few centuries. Time seems so short for us.

Speaking of which, ISV Amaterasu will be here soon. Chances are I'm going with it.

Time's always too short.

Excerpt 4

Actually got a ride in a Samson today, with Doctor Augustine no less. Some last hurrah, in light of the Amaterasu arriving? I don't know. There's another one coming though…Prometheus. And that's got Falco interested for some reason, namely in regards to a signals specialist. Augustine didn't comment on it much bar an offhand mention of Venture Star. Some bigshot anthropologist that's supposed to be a new face for Avatar-na'vi interactions. In the end, we're all waiting for something.

But what? Something's happening…happened…I won't be here for it. Don't know if I want to be. The entire base feels different, even if I'm only seeing it from the Avatar Compound. We've been here around twenty years and people are still dying, both humans and na'vi, there's still more demand for unobtanium and from what I've heard, Earth's still getting worse. Maybe the coma isn't so bad.

Time's getting shorter…maybe that's why she took me to see…a boulder. That's right, some boulder in the middle of the jungle. A boulder with its top shaped like a bowl. Natural weathering? Perhaps. But apparently there was a tradition amongst the Omaticaya at one point. Once a day, one of their own would sit on the boulder, meditating, and afterwards, pouring water into the bowl. Letting weathering do its thing. Adding to what nature had provided.

And I can believe that. People built structures on foundations of stone in the distant past. Pyramids, ziggurats…why not do the same thing here? Even if it takes forever. As she went about collecting plants, I tried it.

For a few blissful hours, time seemed to stop. The jungle silent. The wind gone. I can see why one would want to do this. Here, anywhere…almost like sleeping, yet being awake to appreciate it.

But in the end, you always have to wake up.

Excerpt 5

Well, it's been done. I'll be on the Amaterasu. A few days, a few weeks…hard to say. Grace is trying to arrange that I be one of the last to leave (or better yet, none at all), but I know what's coming. For me.

Given the amount of hardware Falco has imported, I can see what's coming for the moon as well.

Excerpt 6

I wonder what drugs are like?

Doesn't matter. I've got my own. Almost.

Excerpt 7

Nearly done it. Grace is worried. Max is concerned. Selfridge is complaining about power fluctuations.

Screw him. Screw 'em all.

Nearly got it…

Excerpt 8

What is the mind? What is consciousness. We transfer it from our bodies to our Avatars, but what is really making the transition? Nothing physical, that's for sure. But something is making the journey. Close your eyes, open them in another body. Not that I do the eye closing part from my wasted human form, but…

Meh. I wonder. What happens if the transfer is interrupted? Suppose it stopped in the middle. Where is the mind then? People have suffered brain damage from emergency jack-outs before, but the consciousness has always remained. And yet I ask…what lies in-between?

Some say that's where dreams are born.

Excerpt 9

…Got it.

No, there's no "eureka." No apples…though they're quite tasty. Managed to get a few in the compound. No…my dream. My first dream. Hacked into my pod, set a time delay to shut it down. For a moment, I was in-between.

I was the light on the edge of the leaf. The clouds in the night. For a moment, I'm in my human body…free..flying…I was everywhere, and everything.

Strange dream. Strange method too. But you don't dream in an Avatar body. You always come back to your human form. And in my coma, there's…nothing.

I need to do this more.

Excerpt 10

They found me out. I'm to board the ISV tomorrow. I'm allowed to stay in this body until tonight, then it's over. Not even Grace will stand up for me, after finding out what I've been doing. I want to jeopardize my mental faculties? Maybe a coma is right for me. Regardless, I'm writing this last entry before giving this journal away. It's written rather than typed, so there aren't many libraries that would accept it, but if history makes its judgement on what happened here, who knows, maybe my ramblings will be interesting. Either way, I have one last thought.

We're aliens. All of us. The term betrays our us and them mindset, but this isn't our world. And nothing I've seen gives me any confidence that it ever will be. I see on the tarmac…the Dragons, the gunships, the Swans. Never mind the number of mercenaries being employed to use them. As much as I see darkness for myself, I don't see it being much different here.

Maybe it's the benefit of having a stranger's eyes.

Eyes that soon will see no more.