Journal of the Genius's Daughter
Stargate Atlantis
By Teenangel
Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.
Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.
I only mention the year once, unless it changes.
Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't due me, waste of time.
July 13th 23:34
I am the daughter of a Genuis
Carson just kicked me out of the lab! Shot me with sedatives as I tried to grab onto a shelving unit and (with the help of Kira, naturally) dragged me to my quarters, where they left me face first in my pillow. But they're gone now and I transferred the program I was working on to my room computer--even without the device I can get something done. But somehow I ended up opening this blasted journal and started typing. Did I mention I'm apparently immune to sedatives? I figured it out when I was like six and Carson shot me up with some so he could stitch my chin...I felt every minute of pain, but it wasn't that bad, and I didn't shed a tear.
I was really little once...wow. Doc, I think we're making a break through, my inner childhood. Again joke. As if any child psychology would've worked on the first wave. Dude, how do you cope with a six year old who can do differential calculus, program and fix ancient technology, and speak four languages? I don't think my parents even knew the answer. They treated me like I was a Godsend.
Damn it! What did you expect would happen when Genius procreates, you'd end up with a Shemp or a Kira? Honestly, was it really that weird having a kid that understood what was going on in the ancient city she grew up in? Although, I can not take the full arrogant credit of being a Godsend: Kar is as equally as gifted and intelligent as I -- and has more common sense.
I remember when they first figured it out. My parents. I was four and such a handful, constantly getting into fights with Shemp or making obscene comments to people. Mom blamed Dad for my mouth. Dear Daddy, always shrugging me off for later, always having something more important in his lab. I can forgive him; I forgave him even back then. He wasn't good with little kids. The one time I'd been left with him longer than an hour I ended up getting those stitches (I'm a naughty little escape artist). Oh, he loved me plenty, but I was so fragile to him, so precious. Maybe, he was afraid he couldn't hold his temper with me. (My mouth was proof I'd already heard too much of his out bursts). But I was gonna force a compromise of sorts. I was gonna put myself on his level--and live out being the daughter of a genius. Mom had left me with him one afternoon in his lab. Zelenka was there, too, along with some lab techs; so, dad was off the hook of having to actually watch me. I stood on a chair, watching as my father and Zelenka argued over calculations for a power converter. I covertly picked up the equations, worried that daddy would yell at me, but he was too busy to notice. He was too busy to notice when I started making marks on his calculations, too busy to notice when I put them in his hands, too busy to notice immediately where the correct answers he was holding had come from. Then, it dawned on him, a full minute after it had dawned on Zelenka, and my father was staring at me, not as if I was a fragile crystal girl, but as an equal. Suddenly, I had an adult mind in his eyes, I had his mind, I was without a question a product of his genetics and he loved me for that. And he hugged me so hard that day that it made up for the last four years.