UVGE
This is a test to see how easy submission is on a few different sites, taken from the beginning of an abandoned NaNoWriMo novel that I hope to go back to some day! Because I am nerdy enough to write a story about a generational ship populated by animal people. :)
We carry our past with us. I don't mean just our memories and emotions, but our heritage. Our genes are full of rudimentary code, our bodies designed for anything but the void of space.
There's no need to have a tail, no need for claws or canine teeth, and certainly no need for whiskers, especially not on a generational ship between the stars, but I have them none the less. Maybe that's what it means to be a fox, that we still carry those ancient tools and implements and bodies, for pouncing and hunting and fighting and fucking. If we lost all that, what would be left? What worth is pure consciousness?
Sorry, I tend to digress on these long moments. I don't know who might be reading this, whether a fellow middlist, or some far-future person actually standing on real rock and soil tearing apart the ship for parts, or even some alien race sifting through our bones. In any case, I'll try to explain what I can. Ha, as if anyone will read this.
The doctor said I should keep a log, though of course, she meant on the Library. The hell if I'm going to leave my innermost thoughts for her to peruse at her leisure. She's already made up her mind, fit me into her diagnoses, all the rest is to make sure my progress follows her little chart.
They'd probably have me Recycled if they knew everything I thought about what they deemed important.
I really don't give a damn what she thinks of me. Makes my ears itch whenever she looks down her long nose over her tablet, as if I were just a malfunctioning circuit to be repaired, a delay before she can end her shift and join whatever friends or lovers she might have.
It's alright, I've learned over the years what they want to hear. I'm attempting to cope, I'm trying to make friends, I'm studying the materials I'm assigned. I'm even learning to channel my feelings into productive measures.
Fuck that shit, I don't need to visualize my life. It started, is, and will end on this fucking ship. We're the fucking middle children of history. The Launch was so long ago, exactly twelve generations for me, and there's many more generations to come after I'm gone before we finally make planetfall.
We're all just temporary gene expressions.
She mentioned again that I should be more social. What she really means is I need to find a wife to fuck and impregnate and continue the precious genetic material under my fur. What the fuck is the point? Oh yes, I remember all they taught us in middle school. We're all genetically diverse to keep as many genes and species alive. They say the Old Timers were all one race, one species. Pretty silly if you ask me, but I suppose is that any sillier than looking like a creature that died out millenia ago on a dead planet?
Maybe it's in my genes to be antsy. Maybe part of who I am is to not to babble blindly about unimportant things.