June 18, 1980 - Wednesday
Vincent tried to get me breakfast again this morning. I told him no again and added that I don't eat breakfast (lie), so I hope he takes the hint and stops asking. I will go crazy if he does this every morning.
I didn't talk to him very much on the way to the lab because I was still thinking about the Jenova cells and how I wanted to read every file I could get my hands on about them.
They set up my account on the network today, so I was able to start browsing through the archives I have been granted access to. Supposedly I won't have access to Jenova files until Dr. Faremis comes back and signs off on it, which is disappointing. Dr. Hojo was kind enough to let me browse under his account. I've heard rumors about him - that he is unpleasant and such, but he seems to be all right under that top layer of spines.
I spent most of the morning browsing the Jenova files, which are truly bewildering. Most hypotheses until now had imagined the Ancients as much closer to humans in their physical anatomy, based on the old artwork. I suppose it makes sense, as the structure of the Jenova cells suggests an extreme adaptability. According to the records and Dr. Hojo, the actual physical form of the specimen is humanoid without truly resembling a human. It is far taller than the average human, and the skin has a greyish hue, while the hair is white. None of these features match the depictions of Ancients. However, we must also account for the fact that the specimen appears to be over 2,000 years old, and we can't yet speak to the effects of time and exposure to the elements.
I am extraordinarily grateful for this project, which is already filling me with a new sense of purpose. I am starting to feel better about the future.
June 20, 1980 - Friday
Since it is Friday, Ilona invited me to go to the pub after work with some of the lab techs. I invited Dr. Hojo to come along, to which he raised his eyebrows and told me he lacked "the requisite affinity for vapid conversation." Ha! I should have taken his word for it, but I decided to go because this being my first week, I was on easy street, and I imagine I will be spending many future Friday evenings in the lab (and, honestly, I hope I do! There is really nothing else to do around here).
I also thought it might be nice to get to know some of the techs, although I must report back that Dr. Hojo had the right of it. They are simply not on our level - purely punchclock, with no apparent interest in intellectual pursuits after 5PM. Furthermore, what passes for a pub in this town is an absolute joke. It's truly closer to a greasy spoon diner with a few weak beers on tap.
The main topic of what Dr. Hojo aptly diagnosed as vapid conversation seems to be Dr. Hojo himself. The techs have christened him with all manner of insulting names, and Ilona apparently thought it was appropriate to ask me, somebody she just met and her superior, how I was enjoying working with "Dr. Creepy" so far. So disrespectful and ungrateful. Honestly, I lost it a bit with her and told her that I had great respect for Dr. Hojo's work, and reminded her that he is her supervisor, and so am I, and perhaps she ought to spend less time talking about him and more time listening to him, because she seems like she has a lot to learn.
I can't stand these normal girls. I can just picture her in high school - curling her eyelashes in class, gossiping in the hallway, blowing her boyfriend in the parking lot during lunch. She never paid attention, never put in the work, then at the end of the semester, she hunted down some girl like me, some loser girl who stayed in every night and studied - the same girl that just spent months mocking at every opportunity - and begged for a copy of her class notes, bullied that girl into giving her those notes, which she then spent just enough time with to barely scrape a passing grade. Then Daddy paid her way through some mediocre college, where she managed to pull half a science degree out of her ass in between vodka shots. These girls, who make fun of men like Dr. Hojo, who call them creeps and weirdos just because they are nerds, because they understand that there are more important things than standing around smiling and listening to some empty-headed bitch simper. I can't stand it.
It's like Mom always said: Great minds discuss ideas, small minds discuss people.
I doubt I will be going back any time soon. Praying that the gods of science will drown me in work, and quickly before I lose my absolute mind in this backwater.
Vincent didn't try to get me breakfast the last couple days. I guess he got the memo.