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Dec. 7th, 2005 09:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebyeThe night before going to war in what he has come to think of as Andrew's World, Ray sits down and writes out a letter.
He's getting quite good at these.
Dear Romana-
First of all, we really gotta stop meeting like this. Okay, that's out of my system. Sorry. It just popped in there. . .
Anyway. I hope this letter finds you well, because it finds me a nervous wreck. Partly because of the first big thing I wanted to say, which is that I'm going to Andrew Wells' version of Earth to help him and his friends fight off a demon army. I'll be back, I'm sure, but I don't want you to worry about me. I'm going with Peter, and we've armed a bunch of people with proton packs, and I've been training like a lunatic when I haven't been with you. Andrew's bringing along several people from Antar who have battlefield and tactical experience, and they'll be bringing along a small army, so that should take care of an awful lot.
That's not so much what makes me nervous, although I won't lie to you- the prospect does unnerve me. I owe Andrew, though, and it's an important thing- there's evil involved, and it's sending the demon army to attack people Andrew knows and loves. I'd do the same for you if the situation ever arose, and I sincerely hope it doesn't.
No, the really gut-wibbling part is that . . . well, I seem to have developed a daughter.
I assure you, the choice of verb is deliberate. She isn't biological. As part of a great many upgrades and improvements to my car, Ecto-1, Bonnie Barstow installed an insanely complicated computer system to monitor all of the hardware changes and protective measures. That system proved sufficiently intricate two and a half weeks ago, and Ecto 'woke up', achieving sentience. Her first word was 'Daddy'; she considers me her father, and I'm not inclined to disagree with her.
I don't know how you feel about AI other than K-9, but even though Ecto outmasses me by a factor of about sixteen, I still feel that I ought to treat her as my daughter. I thought you should know, and. . . well, if that changes anything, then. . . well, I guess I can understand. I'd rather it didn't. I'd seriously rather it didn't. There were all kinds of things I wanted to ask you before this happened, but I was too freaked out by the prospect of the answers, and now I don't know if you're even going to want me to ask them- anyway, that's the big thing. I'd love for you to meet her, if that's okay with you. And if it's not, I understand. It's kind of weird to other people, I guess.
Anyway, that's the big thing. Like I said, there were other questions I wanted to ask you, although Tim Hunter answered one of them for me. Assuming the whole thing with Ecto hasn't thrown you a bit, I'd. . . still like to ask. It's up to you.
Get hold of me when I get back, and we'll talk.
Love,
Ray.
He's getting quite good at these.
Dear Romana-
First of all, we really gotta stop meeting like this. Okay, that's out of my system. Sorry. It just popped in there. . .
Anyway. I hope this letter finds you well, because it finds me a nervous wreck. Partly because of the first big thing I wanted to say, which is that I'm going to Andrew Wells' version of Earth to help him and his friends fight off a demon army. I'll be back, I'm sure, but I don't want you to worry about me. I'm going with Peter, and we've armed a bunch of people with proton packs, and I've been training like a lunatic when I haven't been with you. Andrew's bringing along several people from Antar who have battlefield and tactical experience, and they'll be bringing along a small army, so that should take care of an awful lot.
That's not so much what makes me nervous, although I won't lie to you- the prospect does unnerve me. I owe Andrew, though, and it's an important thing- there's evil involved, and it's sending the demon army to attack people Andrew knows and loves. I'd do the same for you if the situation ever arose, and I sincerely hope it doesn't.
No, the really gut-wibbling part is that . . . well, I seem to have developed a daughter.
I assure you, the choice of verb is deliberate. She isn't biological. As part of a great many upgrades and improvements to my car, Ecto-1, Bonnie Barstow installed an insanely complicated computer system to monitor all of the hardware changes and protective measures. That system proved sufficiently intricate two and a half weeks ago, and Ecto 'woke up', achieving sentience. Her first word was 'Daddy'; she considers me her father, and I'm not inclined to disagree with her.
I don't know how you feel about AI other than K-9, but even though Ecto outmasses me by a factor of about sixteen, I still feel that I ought to treat her as my daughter. I thought you should know, and. . . well, if that changes anything, then. . . well, I guess I can understand. I'd rather it didn't. I'd seriously rather it didn't. There were all kinds of things I wanted to ask you before this happened, but I was too freaked out by the prospect of the answers, and now I don't know if you're even going to want me to ask them- anyway, that's the big thing. I'd love for you to meet her, if that's okay with you. And if it's not, I understand. It's kind of weird to other people, I guess.
Anyway, that's the big thing. Like I said, there were other questions I wanted to ask you, although Tim Hunter answered one of them for me. Assuming the whole thing with Ecto hasn't thrown you a bit, I'd. . . still like to ask. It's up to you.
Get hold of me when I get back, and we'll talk.
Love,
Ray.
