Changes: Zoë's Journal

Revision as of 14:23, 28 December 2019

“Where have you gone to, Dreamer.
Whose dreams are you dreaming?” — Spoilers for Dreamfall Chapters follow.

In Dreamfall Chapters Zoë starts keeping a proper journal at the request of a doctor. This is in contrast to the simplified task list she kept on her mobile in Dreamfall.

Note from the editor:

Sometimes, the journal text depends on the choices that Zoë has made. To make it clearer which parts are different and which parts are the same across the choices, we do not repeat the equal parts. Instead, we start the entries with the choice-independent part and use subsections to indicate choice-dependent sections.

Pre-existing entries

2220-04-04

Tuesday, April 4th

Awake. Alive. Amnesiac.

Doctor told me to keep a journal, said it might help me deal with not remembering. Because this might be temporary, but it might also be permanent. A whole year, lost.

So, journal. Dictating, voice-to-text. Expect some rambling.

How to begin? Hello diary? Hello dear reader of my diary? No, I'm the only one who could be reading. I made sure of this. All the encryptions. And I'm certain I'll never read this because awkward.

No matter. This is about the process of recording my thoughts, my days, my life. The days of my life. This is about remembering.

So. Key points.

Been awake for a few days now. Still in bed most of the time but drugs and implants and robotic appendages are helping make this a rapid recovery. A rapid physical recovery.

Getting used to food. Food is lovely. They bring me the food, and I eat the food. All of the food. And I eat all day. Weight gain will not be a problem.

Dad wants me to join him in Mumbai. There's nothing for me in Casablanca. An empty apartment, painful memories. I can't stay here.

But live with Dad, after all the things?

As for my memories, not a whole lot of those. Not since before the whole ordeal. But Dad filled in a few of the gaps when I woke up.

Reza vanished, I went searching for him. I discovered the WATIcorp dreamachine project-slash-conspiracy, the story Reza was chasing. I also found out that my mother was involved, except I didn't know she was my mother. Also, I didn't know my mother was alive. Also, she put me in a coma.

Summary?

Went off after investigative journalist ex-boyfriend on silly rescue mission. Discovered corporate plot to control people's dreams. Found out my father's been lying to me all my life and that my mother isn't dead.

In short, I thwarted a global conspiracy and in return Mummy Dearest injected me with an experimental drug.

It's a sordid story. I could probably sell it for a billion NuYuan.

But hey, bonus, I saved the world. Made some tasty lemonade from those pesky lemons.

No, following Dad to Mumbai is not an option. I'll have to do this on my own. Without Dad. Without a safety net.

Without memories.

I'm Zoë Castillo: Awake, alive and amnesiac.

2220-04-10

Monday, April 10th

DEAR DIARY, etcetera.

One week. On my feet and feeling fine. Scary how quickly you can get over being in a coma for a year with the help of modern science. I bare have bed sores.

So what now?

Reza and I are talking about getting together again and I've been thinking. He's living in Europolis. I'm rootless. No roots. I can go anywhere, it doesn't matter. I'm starting a new life. I get to pick where to begin.

Yes: relationship. I work fast.

Is this a good thing? It feels like it could be. Reza visited me almost every day when I was sick. He never stopped talking to me. He was the first thing I saw when I woke up.

Okay, yes, so we broke up because it wasn't working but that was Before. This is After and I'm different. We both are. We've both turned a page, begun a new chapter.

It is a good thing.

I think I will join Reza in Europolis. Why not? It'll be an adventure.

2220-04-14

Friday, April 14th

I've decided to cut off contact with Dad. At least for now.

This may turn out to be A Bad Idea, but I'm angry and disappointed. I can't forgive him for keeping so many secrets from me for so many years.

Telling me my mother was dead when she so clearly wasn't? Even if she was an evil bitch (and she is) and even if she ended up trying to kill me (and she did), that's not something you do to your only child.

You don't lie, not about THAT shit.

I hope these feelings will pass. Or maybe hope isn't the right word. I'll keep an open mind. But for now, and for the foreseeable future, he will not be a part of my life.

My life right now is all about getting back on my feet (emotionally, I'm walking just fine) and moving to Europolis to live with Reza.

That's enough. For now.

Gameplay entries

2220-04-17

Monday, April 17th

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, by-bye Casablanca, hallo Europolis.

Europolis! That's so...European. I've barely been to Europe. Not a huge fan. Rampant poverty, crime, pollution. Awful food. And yet, that's where I'm going. Europolis. Prague district. Propast.

This was an easy choice, since that's where Reza's working. Yes, he's still with the Hand That Feeds, still an investigative journalist, still taking that whole 'saving the world' thing seriously.

I love him.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

If nothing else, at least I had a very good idea of what I wanted to do with my life the moment I woke up.

I don't know why, but it was crystal clear in my head. Going back to school, continuing my biengineering degree. My mind's set. It's almost like I made that decision while I was in the coma.

Which, I have to admit, is convenient.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

I still don't know what I'll be doing once I get to Europolis, aside from playing house with Reza.

When I woke up, I knew I didn't want to go back to school to continue my bioengineering degree. It was crytal clear to me, like I'd had that whole argument in my head while I was in the coma and it was settled.

That's fine, I'm not going to fight it. I'm just curious why my mind was set. It was odd.

2220-04-22

Saturday, April 22nd

Iris: capital letters, please.

I HATE EUROPOLIS.

Thank you, back to lower case.

Five reasons I hate Europolis:

There's no sun. None.

It's always raining. Always.

There's no vegetation. No trees, no plants, no grass. None.

They claim to speak English but it's littered with slang words like 'mause' and 'bulle'. I don't understand half of what they're saying.

Did I mention there's no sun? Fuck this.

But, oh, it's fantastic and I love it.

Zoë, contradictions, you are full of them!

I'm starting a new chapter. I'm putting the past behind me. I'm growing up. I'm no longer defined by who I was or what I did or didn't do before the coma. That's why I love it.

We've already found a place, super close to Reza's office, and we're moving in on Monday or Tuesday. Of course, we haven't actually seen the place outside of the simulation, but I'm sure it's perfect. It can be a hellhole, and it'll still be perfect.

It doesn't matter how I feel about Europolis or about the apartment or about not having a job or about being shit scared, because I'm here now and this is the beginning of a new story for me.

2220-04-24

Monday, April 24th

I started therapy today. Dr Roman Zelenka, psychotherapist. Good head of hair. Dorky suit. Reza found him. He came recommended from someone at the Hand.

He's nice. I like him. There is chemistry. I can talk to him. He didn't push me or any of my very large buttons.

Of course, it's all therapist smoke and mirrors, but I don't mind. If I don't see strings being pulled, I don't care.

Also, it's a five minute walk from home. Convenient!

On that note, I do need to start working out. The food is pretty awesome here in Propast.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Dr. Zelenka she wants to remember

I'm still not quite sure what therapy is going to do. Help me remember? I do want to remember. How much and how fast, I don't know yet.

I'll take things as they come, I guess. I'm adaptable. Adaptable Zoë.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Dr. Zelenka she doesn't want to remember

As for therapy, I'm not quite sure what it's going to do for me. Help me remember? I don't know if I want to remember.

Isn't that crazy? It's a bit crazy. It's super crazy.

Still, it doesn't change the simple fact that I don't want to remember. I want to just move on.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

This morning, I got in touch with Cape Town University, paid my fees, reactivated my enrolment and submitted a proposal for my undergraduate project.

I had a productive morning.

With any luck, they'll let me stay here in Propast and do my degree remotely. I might have to go back every few weeks, but that's fine. Six hours on the Vactrax. I'll just load up on episodes of EuroTrash. My new addiction.

All I can do now is cross my toes and wait. I think the proposal is pretty good, all things considered. It's an extension of what I was working on before I dropped out, so it shouldn't be completely unrealistic.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

Tomorrow, I start looking around for something locally. A job where I can use at least a few of my skills. Or my head. Failing that, my body and no that doesn't sound right at all.

I'd prefer something in tech, but I'm not picky. Whatever comes my way, I'll manage.

2220-04-27

Thursday, April 27th

So here are three facts about out tiny flat in Sonnenschein Plaza Terraces:

1) It's tiny. It's the size of my bedroom in Casablanca, if you didn't include the balcony.

2) It smells wierd.

3) The window looks straight into a brick wall with neon signs on it.

But I love it! We have our own place. I couldn't wish for anything more. I feel liberated. I feel like myself again.

Well, sort of. A forgetful, amnesiac self. Half-Zoë. But a better half.

2220-04-30

Sunday, April 30th 2220

Project Find a Friend (or Five) has begun!

It sounds so desparate, but I'm going to give it a shot. I'm going to try and build a life for myself here, and part of that is having friends, right?

The lady with the food cart outside Dr Zelenka's office is one of my projects. She's really wierd and a bit too intense. But I like her. Nela, was it? Yes. Nela. She's on my list. My list of candidates. Friends candidates.

If anyone ever finds out about this list, I will have to kill them.

Sully's on the list too. Sully's a friend, but he's also Reza's best friend, so I can't highjack him and make him my best friend. Also, I'm starting to think Sully might have the teensiest crush on me. He's sweet though. A true mensch.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

My proposal was accepted! CTU said it was "interesting" and "potentially useful"! Cautiously positive reinforcement!

They've already suggested a supervisor, Adala bint Khalid. I remember Ada from Cape Town. Doctoral student back then; she's a postdoctorial now and she really liked my proposal. Apparently. She's already been working on related research.

She's coming up in a couple of days for a chat, and if we get along, and if she gives the thumbs up, we're GO for launch.

So the idea is to bioneer these new synthetic smart algae designed to clean up the river running through Propast. But not only do the algae need to 'eat' the pollution. They also have to process it and excrete a chemical that can continue to break down the pollutants in the water.

My ambition is to make the water drinkable. Doable? Maybe! CTU definitively seems to think there's "a small chance of applicable research emerging from the text project". Nice.

That happened quickly. Good, right? I'm sure it's good.

Oh, and I have a pun: don't be such a smartalgae.

That's it. Thank you.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

Well, that was easy. I have a job! I think?

I was in the Chinese market (what they call the Bricks, because...bricks?) browsing for tea, when my Iris popped up with a notification about a job posting just a few blocks away.

'Trainee neural engineer wanted ASAP! Unreasonably long hours, shit pay. Contact Mira @ Pandemonium'.

I don't know, I found that intriguing.

The place -- Pandemonium -- looked shady from the outside and even shadier on the inside, and Mira turned out to be incredibly offensive, but something about her reminded me of my friend Liv.

Also, the job sounds interesting. It's a trainee position, and I'll have to do a ton of non-neural programming stuff like deliveries and bot assembly, but I'll learn a lot. And it's a complete left turn for me, something completely different. Which is good.

At the same time, it's also like I'm following in Liv's -- Olivia De Marco's -- footsteps. Honouring her memory. She was always trying to teach me, and she kept asking me to start working for her. Of course, back then, I lacked the motivation and drive. But now, I want to learn. I want to do something with my life.

I don't know if this is it, but it's something. We'll see where it goes.

Mira didn't really confirm whether I got the job or not, but she also said to stop by at nine o'clock tomorrow, so...yes? We'll see how that plays out, I guess.

Her partner, Wit, didn't say a word when I was there, and Mira kept insulting him, but it didn't look like it bothered him at all. He seems like a gentle giant. But is he mute? He didn't even look at me once. I'm not sure I get him yet.

He is HUGE, though. Massive. A mountain.

2220-06-15

Thursday, June 15th 2220

I knew I wouldn't be able to keep updating my journal on a regular basis. I'm so predictable. And busy. Busy me, busy-busy bee.

So, an update. Yoga for my mind. An exercise in memory. Here goes.

1. Europolis is growing on me.

Okay, yes, the flat is awful. The ventilation system rarely works. It's hot. It smells weird. There's no sunlight and people talk funny. But I like the energy. I like the diversity.

Casablanca was like London. Beautiful, safe, prosperous. All shiny metal and glass and polished stone. But never particularly exciting. It's exciting here. And there's history in these streets. Filthy, stinky, crumbling, fading history. But history.

There are the art galleries and cinemas and a thousand million food carts. I had a pierogi for lunch and it was delicious. Sure, there are seedy sex-clubs, illegal dream emporiums and people urinating on the streets.

But at least it's genuine urination. Urination with gusto.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

2. I'm really enjoying the project, being back in school, ish. I feel like I'm picking up exactly where I left off, and that's good. It's great. This is what I always wanted to do with my life, so it makes sense.

Right?

I think that's right. And Ada is a great supervisor. Patient, smart, serious. I'm learning so much from her.

Also, algae are cool.- There it is. I'm a fanalgaerl.

That sounded a lot better in my head.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

2. I like my job.

Weird, I know. I'm not using my education at all, and I'm starting on the floor. Below the floor. In the sub-sub-basement.

But that's sort of refreshing. Liberating. I'm learning a lot. I feel like I'm actually evolving. Maybe in siz months, a year, I can use my newfound skills to get a GOOD job. But for now, I like this.

Continued (choice-independent)

3. I've gone political

So that's pretty weird, I guess? When did Zoë ever care about politics (I hear people say inside their heads, which means I can also read minds now, AWESOME) but I both do and don't.

Let me explain.

Dear diary, I'm now volunteering for a political campaign. I was browsing the Wire, looking for things to do locally, and there it was: an ad for a voluntary position, assisting the Lea Uminska campaign. Uminska is the mayoral candidate for Unity, the Europolitian social democratic party.

Hey, I throught, that's a thing to do which could also be rewarding and interesting. I read up on Unity's agenda and Uminska's track record, figured they were probably the party I'd vote for (if I voted, which I haven't) and sent in my application.

The next day I met Baruti (Baruti is great, more about him later) and thirty minutes later I was a volunteer with a mission. I was POLITICAL.

So why?

It's like waking from a slumber, I guess. (Or, hey, maybe A COMA?) Before all the things I lived in a protected bubble. I was spoiled. I was bored, I was aimless. I didn't care. But going through what I went through, losing everything and everyone, moving to a new city...

It's given me perspective, if nothing else. And even if I'm still not a very political person, I do see the need for a change to happen. Here. Everywhere.

Also, meeting Baruti and seeing his engagement and passion, that's infectious. It must be amazing to care as much as he does, to sacrifice and work hard to achieve soemthing for the greater good.

I want that. I want to be able to feel that way.

And the social democrats seem like the only ones who won't do any more harm to Europolis.

How's that for idealism?

4. As for project Find a Friend, I'm not doing a very good job.

Here are my candidates:

a) Nela, of Nela Bites. Food cart lady. Marxist. Firecracker. Very loud and energetic. Better in small doses. I can tolerate having lunch with her and maybe watching an old movie. Not a sleepover or a day of shopping. Or a night of drinking.

b) Sully. Love sully. Sully's the best. But he's Reza's friend and he likes me just a TINY BIT too much for us to just hang out on our own without it feeling maybe a teensy bit awkward? He's still awesome. Best guy.

c) Baruti, campaign manager guy. Yeah, maybe? He makes me smile and I have lots of fun working with him. For him. But he's my boss, and we're very different. We can be friendly. We can have drinks and talk about the campaign or Europolis or food, but that's as far as it goes.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

d) Ada?

Sure. We could become friends. She's hard to get close to, but I'm trying. I respect and admire her. She has hidden depths. We're very different people, but that's not a bad thing. It could turn into a beautiful friendship.

Or at least a pretty good one.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

d) Mira? Wit?

Yeah, no.

Continued (choice-independent)

e) ...Reza?

This is a depressing list.

2220-07-23

Sunday, July 23rd

I can't believe it's not sand!

I read they use imported space rocks that are pulverised, processed and exposed to radiation to hey! irony! remove radiation. And then they use that to make fake beaches.

Why not just use sand? Or Earth rocks? Are space rocks so much better than Earth rocks?

Anyway. We're not in Europolis anymore, Toto!

Trieste is exactly how I imagined Trieste would be like. Filled with Europolitans escaping the smog and fog and heat and rain and pollution in order to risk skin cancer on fake beaches while eating food that's a lot worse than the food in Propast in hotels made of plastic polymers.

Also, swimming is out of the question. You really need to wear a hazmat suit to go swimming in the Miditerranean these days. This is a far cry from the pristine beaches of Camps Bay or N'gor, or even Zanzibar. And now I miss Africa.

But this trip wasn't about all that. It was about getting away and being together and strengthening our relationship. It's been a bit rocky lately. It's been tough on Reza to have me in his space, and tough on me to jump straight from a year-long coma to a relationship. Tough all around. There have been moments when I've thought, hmm, was this a good choice? Did I really think it through? Can I deal with the consequences?

So, yeah, we needed this. We need more of this. We're both so busy and preoccupied in Propast that we sometimes get on each other's nevers. Here, we've been able to relax, find peace and have lots and lots of awesome sex.

I am still worried. I'm worried that we'll grow apart again. I'm worried that my instincts were right the first time around, that Reza's a good friend more than he's a partner. I'm worried, but I'll leave the worrying now for another day while I focus on soaking up these last few rays of wonderful sun.

Also, I can't complain about the sex.

Sunday night, an update.

It's really late and I have to be up really early. Reza's in the shower and I'm lying here in bed staring up into the ceiling. Thinking.

It was such a hassle getting back into Propast. There are EYE checkpoints everywhere now, and you need to show papers just to move between sectors, which is insane. So we waited in line for almost an hour and then we started arguing and suddenly all the good vibes from the weekend vanished and I felt like crying.

It got better afterwards. We made up. But I can't help but feel there's something off. Like we've started down different paths, and right now those paths are parallel but soon they'll diverge and then--

Here's Reza now. I think I'm overreacting. I'm so tired and grumpy and good night.

2220-07-24

Monday, July 24th 2220

Three months in therapy. Still bat shit crazy. Hello.

I'm not complaining. The doc's doing a good job. Probably. My head's a mess, I've lost over a year of memories, but I'm getting better. Ish.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Dr. Zelenka she wants to remember

And I do want to remember. That's probably a step in the right direction. Right? At least there's that.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Dr. Zelenka she doesn't want to remember

The fact that I don't want to remember anything at all probably isn't helping. But that's the honest truth.

Continued (choice-independent)

Anyway. I've spend enough time in my head today. No more psychotherapy.

Dear diary, let's move forward and focus on the present.

Note to self:

Stop saying note to yourself.

Even when I subvocalise, it sounds completely ridiculous.

Also, I'm remind myself to ask more questions about that EYE thing. It's a bit scary that they're going after people like Nela. She runs a food cart, for god's sake! What's next? A curfew? More arrests?

I don't want to be living in a police state.

Choice-dependent: Sausages

Dear diary, when I read this thing at some point in the distant future when I have absolutely nothing better to do, let this day be known as the Day of Organic Pork sausages.

Sausage consequences. Sausaquences.

I'm also taking a moment here to tell Zoë it's okay that Reza is so wrapped up in his work, that it's nothing to do with you, it's not your fault and that it'll be okay, really.

I mean, that's what this journal is for. Writing things that will give present-me perspective and future-me a good laugh.

Choice-dependent: Cheese soup

I'm making a note to self without saying note to oh fuckitty fuck.

A reminder, then:

No more cheese soup. My boyfriend must be more adventurous. My boyfriend needs to leave his comfort zone and experience other culinary delights, like maybe things that aren't cheese soup.

I'm also taking a moment here to tell Zoë it's okay that Reza is so wrapped up in his work, that it's nothing to do with you, it's not your fault and that it'll be okay, really.

I mean, that's what this journal is for. Writing things that will give present-me perspective and future-me a good laugh.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

Time to put our algae to the test. Nerves, I have them, and they're wracked. If the river runs pink I'm going into voluntary exile.

Also: we're so getting a bot like that. ADORBS.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

Monday afternoon. Hot. Humid.

Another day at the office. Mira yells at no one in particular and throws things at Wit. Wit doesn't give a crap. I'm given assignments that have nothing at all to do with my job description.

Oh, wait, no! This is the day I get to do something that's at least somewhat related to my job description.

Hallelujah.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

Run some tests, she said. Get a feel for the neural programming, she said. It'll be easy, she said.

Well, no, she didn't say that but I feel it was implied.

This bot really is shitty. Shitbot.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

Algae deployed, river stayed poo-coloured. Not a drop of pink. I take this as a personal victory of sorts.

Also, the algae appear to be responding well. Time will tell. Now we wait. We play the waiting game. This is one game I excel at.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

Shitbot was shit. If nothing else, it lived up to its name. Good job, Shitbot.

At least I saved it from the scrapheap. Not sure how that's a good thing, but who knows? Shitbot could end up saving the world, somehow.

Or, more likely, destroy it.

Continued (choice-independent)

Late afternoonish.

When I grow old I want to become Queenie. I don't just want to be LIKE her. I want to BE her. Flying teacup and all.

I mean, how awesome is that? Flying teacup! That's all I need when I get old.

Also she's incredibly perceptive and sharp as a cheese slicer. With her wit she slices the cheese of life.

I'm not sure how she got me to open up like that, so quickly. I pride myself on being guarded and hiding behind awkward jokes and words. But she just, BAM! got me within five minutes.

If Roman was anything like her, we'd be done months ago.

And when she asked me what's the most important to me...

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Queenie she wants to find meaning

I told her I'm looking for meaning in my life. And I guess that's true. It's why I came to Europolis. It's why I'm volunteering for the Uminska campaign. It's all about finding meaning in the mess that was my life.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Queenie she wants to remember

I told her I'm looking to remember. And I am. I hate feeling like I've lost a big part of my life. And I feel like there's something in those memories that I need to recall in order to move forward.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Queenie she wants to forget

I told her I want to forget. And that's the truth. I still feel there's something important that was lost, but at the same time I'm ready to move forward and leave the past behind.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Queenie she wants reconciliation

I told her I'm looking for some sort of reconciliation. And that's true. I am. With my past. With myself. With Reza and, eventually, with Dad. I hope. I need to find peace again.

Choice-dependent: Zoë tells Queenie she wants to belong

I told her I'm looking for somewhere to belong. And I am. It's why I left Casablanca and came here to Europolis. It's why I'm with Reza and why I'm volunteering and working. I'm making a new life for myself, one that's mine.

Continued (choice-independent)

Maybe it was just a clever parlour trick to make me pliant. After all of that, how can I say no to anything she asks of me?

So now I have A Quest. Like the Holy Grail. Except looking for girl instead of grail.

Quest for the Hanna Girl.

No? Okay.

I remember the last time I went looking for someone who'd vanished. THAT turned out well.

Who the fuck was that? What the fuck was that?

Excuse my language but honestly.

How did that girl know my name? I'm not in the Iris system. She can't possibly have faced me. So how did she know?

How the fuck did she know?

She must be mistaken. It's crazy talk. I haven't been in her dreams. There must be another Zoë out there who looks like me. My doppelganger.

But still. Still. She looked so familiar.

Choice-dependent: Interrupting Nela's argument

This is why you don't just barge in on private conversations, Zoë. Live and learn.

Not sure what that was between Nela and her friend, but it's none of my business.

Choice-dependent: Listening in on Nela's argument

I don't usually listen in on private conversations, but I didn't want to just barge in like I always do.

There was something about that argument between Nela and her friend. I can't put my finger on it, but it felt odd. Off, somehow.

Oh well, none of my business.

Continued (choice-independent)

Still. When I asked Nela about Hanna, she was very evasive. Why tell me to not ask any questions? What was that about?

I'll have to ask Nela again. When she's in a better mood. In a few days. A week, maybe.

Yeah, let's make that one week. Or two. Two sounds good.

Choice-dependent: Interrupting the assault on Baruti

I need to make a note of this. If anything, when they find my body floating in the river, they'll know who did it.

Choice-dependent: Just watching the assault on Baruti: no text

Continued (choice-independent)

Things not to do in Propast:

1. Do not drink the water.

2. Do not stay at the White Swallow past two o'clock in the morning.

3. Don't hang out on Kaprova, unless you want to be propositioned.

4. Don't mess with Mr London.

Choice-dependent: Interrupting the assault on Baruti

Today I can cross all four off my list. I couldn't let that coward 'London' beat up Baruti so now he's off my list and I'm probably on his.

Also, I should learn Cantonese.

Choice-dependent: Just watching the assault on Baruti

I've learned from my mistakes -- number three was not fun -- and so I stood by and watched as 'London' and his goons messed up Baruti.

But what could I do? Intervene and get beat up or find myself on London's shit-list?

I know Baruti would have wanted me to stay out of it, but I can't help but feel it was a bit cowardly of me.

2220-07-31

Hello, boiling hot Europolis Monday. You suck.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

On the somewhat positive side, I have the day off. Ada's in Cape Town and in meetings. Until she checks in tomorrow morning, I have absolutely nothing to do.

I get to wander aimlessly around Propast for a whole day and be bored out of my mind?

SCORE.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

So Mira's given me the day off, without explanation, for reasons I probably don't want to know about.

Can I plead complete ignorance? I probably can. I look very innocent.

Gift horse, mouth, etc. I'm not complaining. Okay, sure, it does mean less money at the end of the week, but a day of aimless wandering and boredom in Propast?

WIN.

Continued (choice-independent)

Of course, I do have therapy first thing. We all know how I feel about THAT. (Future Zoë or my nosy children/grandchildren/random hackers: I feel less than enthused about it.) Aside from the opportunity to gaze at Roman's lush and lovely head of hair (it is very lovely) I'm tired of talking talking talking about myself.

I can't even imagine how HE feels about it.

Choice-dependent: Zoë flirted with Roman in Book One

And let's not forget AWKWARD FLIRTATIONS which is a thing that happened. I'm sure there will be repercussions. Repercussions of my own making.

I don't know what I was thinking.

Well, I know what I was thinking. I know exactly what I was thinking. But, bad Zoë. Bad, bad Zoë.

Choice-dependent: Reza did not leave at the end of Book One

I'm sure there will be questions about Reza and our relationship or maybe I'm just paranoid because UGH I don't want to talk about Reza and our relationship right now.

I don't know what's going on between us, but it's not good. It's dysfunctional. And depressing.

Choice-dependent: Reza left the apartment at the end of Book One

Roman's going to ask me about Reza, of course, and while that's probably something I really should talk about, it's also the thing I do not want to talk about most of all in the whole wide world.

At least not yet.

Are we broken up? We had a fight, I let him walk out, I didn't make an effort to contact him or make up. Days passed. And now?

I don't know. I'm not sure why I'm not fighting for this. It doesn't bode well.

It's sad to think that after all we've been through, Reza and me, it might just end with nothing.

But history is not enough of a reason to stick together. So I guess we'll see.

Positive thoughts, Zoë! Day off, YESSSSS!

2220-08-10

Thursday. Really? Already? What, NEXT Thursday?

Well, shit.

HELLO DIARY. What's new? Oh, nothing, just spending every waking hour worrying about whether I did the right thing or not, that's all.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Sully

I've been going over things in my head for a week. Was handing the data to Sully and the Hand the right decision?

They're still working on the story but it should be ready for publishing tonight or tomorrow. I know they've been doing a ton of fact-checking and background information. Sully wants to have one more chat with me before he signs off on the thing. They know this is going to be HUGE once it's published.

So I guess I did the right thing? Right? Right???

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Sully and is still working for the campaign

Seeing as I'm still working for the campaign, at least in theory, I'm not looking forward to Baruti's reaction once this goes live. He's going to be livid.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Baruti

I've been going over and over this in my head. Did I screw up when I gave the data to Baruti? I haven't heard anything. I hope the story doesn't get buried.

Maybe I should have made a copy of the data...but then Baruti would have known and it would have felt so disloyal. I'm probably naïve; I don't even know Baruti that well. We never socialized much outside of work. I consider him a friend, but not a close one. How do I know I can trust him with something of this magnitude?

Was it all ruse to get hold of the data so that he could, I dunno, use it for his own personal benefit?

No. I refuse to believe that. Baruti's an honest person, he probably has his reasons for staying silent.

But I feel like I should check in with him and find out what's going on.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Baruti and is still working for the campaign

I am still working for the campaign, at least in theory. There hasn't been much campaign work the past week, true, but that doesn't change anything. I have a responsibility.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Baruti and Reza did not leave at the end of Book One

Then there's Reza. Oh, Reza.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Sully and Reza did not leave at the end of Book One

Reza must have left super early this morning. He wasn't there when I woke up, and he only left a perfunctory message: "Sully needs me, see you later." The very definition of 'perfunctory'.

Who even uses that word anymore? Who am I trying to impress? WHY ALL THE QUESTION MARKS

But, yeah, Reza.

Choice-dependent: Reza did not leave at the end of Book One

After our conversation last week, we decided to...I don't know, what did we decide? That things aren't working? That we need to evaluate our relationship? Did we actually decide anything at all?

Knowing us, we probably didn't. And so our relationship lingers, like a stubborn pigeon by a park bench, hoping for dry crumbs.

WHAT?

Choice-dependent: Reza left at the end of Book One

I've barely spoken with Reza since last Monday. It was such a horrible, awful conversation, stilted and artificial, like we barely knew each other.

How's that even possible after years of friendship and an on-off-on relationship? How can two people who still love each other be so uncomfortable together?

Because that's exactly what it was. Uncomfortable. I guess that's why neither of us has gotten in touch. But we can't let that continue. We have to talk, stay friends. That's possible? Right?

I'm being stupidly idealistic, I know, but dammit, Zoë, you need to try. After everything we've been through, we can't end up as strangers.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Sully

Anyway, I have an appointment with Sully this afternoon to go over some of the details in the story from the campaign's point of view.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Baruti

Anyway, I need to check in on Baruti. I'm getting a bit worried. I don't like the silence.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

I hope Mira will let me leave early today. I mean, I have a good reason. Not that this will necessarily sway Mira. She never saw a good reason she didn't hate.

I'm not sure how happy I am working there. I am learning. Slowly. But Mira's a bitch, Wit is brilliant but not exactly talkative -- as in, he does not talk, at all -- the pay is lousy and I'm not actually getting to do what I signed up for. There's precious little programming and plenty of running around doing shitty errands.

It pays the bills, barely, but I'm not happy, at all. Maybe it's time to move on and find something else? Maybe I should have gone back to school after all?

Decisions, I suck at them.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

I'm sure Ada will let me leave early to take care of that. She's never difficult and it's not like I don't put in the hours. The project's going well, I've definitely earned some flexibility.

I'm really proud of what we've accomplished. Hopefully, in another few weeks, we can get the go-ahead to release the final algae and, fingers crossed, clean up the section of the river that passes through Propast. If that goes well, we're guaranteed further funding and after that ALL THE RIVERS WILL BE CLEAN.

Hey, it's an accomplishment.

2220-09-28

September 28.

This year just keeps on giving. I'm going to call this the giving year.

We began with a coma. The second act climaxed with my friend turning suicide bomber and me back in a hospital. Hello fancy skin grafts, goodbye awesome ponytail.

I just CANNOT WAIT to see what the third act of 2220 brings. Great wealth, awesome sex and many, many fruity drinks, I imagine?

Yeah, it's been a long summer. And now I'm stuck in my apartment with restricted Wire access, shitty food rations and no way out of Propast.

Choice-dependent: The path that might be

Not only that, but I'm out of a job. Mira let me go, via recorded message. Classy. But I'm not upset. Propast's under total lockdown so there's no business. She couldn't afford to keep me on.

She could've still told me in person, though, but meh.

Choice-dependent: The path that was

Not just that, but I'm out of a job! Yes, there's a rotten cherry on top of my shit sundae.

With Propast under total lockdown, our project was shut down and Ada had to go back to Cape Town. At least she got out. She tells me we can pick things up again when the world returns to normal.

I don't see that happening anytime soon.

Continued (choice-independent)

I'm actually surprised I haven't succumbed to a deep and abiding depression yet. Maybe they've put something in these food rations? If so, thanks you, our magnificent corporate overlords!

Speaking of my mental health, I haven't been able to get in touch with Roman. They told me stopped by the hospital to check up on me, but I was covered in grafts and probably looked like shit. I guess he's left Propast. Must be the hair, that hair works magic on everyone.

Choice-dependent: Reza did not leave at the end of Book One

At least I still have Reza...even though he's not around. That's the one positive thing in my life right now.

Right?

Yeah. Yeah, it's good. It's been rough, but we'll make it. LOVE CONQUERS ALL ETC. (Puke.)

Choice-dependent: Reza left at the end of Book One

Relationship update: Reza and I are broken up for good. It's over. Finito. Haven't spoken to him in weeks.

And if I ever look back on this thinking, maaaaybe we should get back together? then stop that, Zoë, and move on. Third time's NOT the charm. Time to focus on making yourself happy, and also maybe saving the world. One of the two.

Continued (choice-independent)

So. What else. I'm forcing myself to record all this now, because if I don't and someone finds my decompressing corpse in this depressing apartment (most likely cause of death: choking on a half-baked, rationed synthetic chocolate cookie) they will never know the true me.

(Note to whoever finds my body: DELETE THIS JOURNAL STAT!)

Anyway, joking aside...

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Sully

Did I make the right decision giving the data to Sully?

I mean, it amounted to nothing. Baruti left Europolis. I lost a good friend. Reza fled to Iceland with the data, and the Hand hasn't been able to publish it yet. Sully's gone to god knows where, trying to pick up the pieces after the Syndicate shut him down.

It's a big mess and I feel responsible. Should I have given the data to Baruti instead? If I had, maybe the story would be out there by now.

But we'll never know. What's done is done. There are no second chances.

Choice-dependent: Zoë gives the data to Baruti

Did I kill Baruti?

I mean, I didn't actually put a bullet in Baruti's head, but if I hadn't given him the data, what would've happened? Would he be alive, would the data be out there, would the world know the truth?

I have the data now. Baruti left it for me and I picked it up after leaving the hospital. I can't send it to Sully, because the Wire's down, but at least I have it. Now I just need to figure out the next step.

I'm sorry, Baruti. I'm sorry for failing you and I'll do everything I can to bring those responsible for your death to justice.

Continued (choice-independent)

So, dear reader and finder of my decomposing body: it's been a shitty few months. I eat terrible food, I watch way too many reality shows, I sleep, like, fifteen hours a day, and I have no interaction with anyone. I might as well be dead.

On the plus side, I am getting a LOT of reading done.

Well, fuck, I didn't see this coming.

A quick note in case I 'disappear' and someone finds my IRIS:

WATIcorp are murderers and must be brought to justice. They're behind the suicide bombing on the EYE checkpoint in Propast. It's all part of a plot to control the city and to force everyone into Dreamtime.

I know what I have to do. I need to find proof and then I need to go back into Dreamtime, into that world. Into Arcadia.

Whatever's going on here, it's connected to what's going on over there, and the two events are intertwined. I've been called, and it's time to answer.

I don't know if I'll be updating this journal again. If this all that's left of me, I hope I was able to make some sort of difference.

(Also, if you're going to print a picture of me anywhere, try to find one WITHOUT those skin grafts?)

@@ Line 466: / Line 466: @@
 I mean, that's what this journal is for. Writing things that will give present-me perspective and future-me a good laugh.
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 '''Choice-dependent: Cheese soup'''
@@ Line 666: / Line 664: @@
 SCORE.
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 '''Choice-dependent: The path that might be'''