Jean, mon cher,…

Jean, mon cher,

It was pleasant in a way to see you while I was back visiting the Academy.  I truly wish you well, I do!

But I think it is time for us to acknowledge what is already true, yes?  I come to see you, and you are in pain.  I am une capsuliere, and you did not make the cut, and you can not live with the differences, and you can not live with me being gone.

I am truly sorry.  But it would be best for you to find a woman with two feet on the ground, and a few less stars in her eyes.  Yes, I have access to wonders, and I also pay for it on a regular basis.  It is a lonely life in many ways, one I can not really describe.  Even as we used to complain that the pilots would not share their experiences with us, I find I now can not really describe what I experience daily to you.

I can tell you it is not all good:  that having a shell of tritanium steel blown from around me and fleeing in my pod is terrifying in the moment (not yet have I been required to rely on my clone, but I shudder!).  It is not that I am not brave, but even with all the chemical soup and implants and training, so long as we are not totally machines, the terror of that moment will always grab the entrails and twist.

And, I can tell you there are things that I wish I could share.  I can not express how the feeling of extending myself into all the systems of my frigate is like growing a new amazing body, that the math is like hot sex playing in my brain as I fight, and my senses are heightened and made strange.  It is a miracle to me every day, regardless of the cost.

But in all, it makes us different, it drives us apart, and you, mon cher, are not only hurt to be parted from me, but frantic with jealousy of my ship, my life, and the stars.

Please, I wish you all happiness.  Find another sleek and fierce girl — they are out there.  And not all will become capsulieres and fly away.




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