Monday, November 12, 2007

Recollections of a Dangerous Youth

Dearest Anastasia,

I do offer my sincerest apologies for my tardy reply to your most recent letter. I have been busy detaining many country western singing stars and have been able to completely stop the espionage once detected. Although, the calluses on my thumbs from the banjo show no sign of relenting!

But back to your previous letter! I must admit that your detailed explanation of such glorious lunar endeavors have been on my mind since I first read about them. And I do so incredibly appreciate how horrid your snags must have been, but selfishly I found myself transported back to my younger days. I have been preoccupied with my childhood dreams of overseeing my very own space station.

You see at the time I was enrolled in the top secret NASA Enrichment Program for gifted tots. I have been overwhelmed by vivid memories of calibrating solar analysis systems, lunar specimen filters, and comet ice trail collecting modules. Can you image a better way to spend your pre-school and kindergarten years? Oh, and what a blow to my tiny formative ego when I was pulled from the program! It is both this joy and trauma that I have been fixated on as of late. You see my father's dear assistant Claire Clementine was hacking into NASA's mainframe to check on a grade I received for a simulated flight sequence test I was given. It was a “blind-landing” Mars simulation, touchdown, and then subsequent quick departure test sequence. You had to execute all commands and module programmings blindfolded within a fourteen minute span. You see Dear Dear Ms Clementine had helped me study for it and just couldn't wait for the results to be posted. Anyway, upon her covert hack she uncovered my perfect score, and an embedded document. This document outlined in great detail the true mission statement for the formation of the very organization that I was so thoroughly enjoying. It was not pretty.

It seems that NASA had plans of sending me and my classmates on real missions, which I would have been all for in all honesty. Looking back I can see the dangers involved. And what four year-old isn't going to jump at the change of careening through space unattended by nannies or bodyguards? However, we were all unaware that tiny children, tiny hands, and overly evolved brains in tiny heads (although my head has never been tiny) meant covert operations could be carried out faster and more frequently than simply using robotics and computer enhanced nanoprobic systems. With no care for our wellbeing NASA planned to keep us up in space permanently where growth would be stunted. We would therefore become workers. No longer budding scientists, but space station servants! Working our tiny hands, that would never grow any larger, to the bone! It seems that they planned to fake a crash upon reentry, faking our deaths, and giving our parents the notion that we were gone forever. Ms Clementine stopped all of that and certain NASA officials disappeared from the program and the planet I might add.

Oh childhood! Oh childhood conspiracies and scandals! Ripped from the joy of science and stars to an unknown fate! The pain is as fresh as any of Sultan Perriwinkle's hot lemon tarts he makes on Bastille Day for all the agents and assistants.

As we know nanoprobic systems are simply the bees knees now, if you will allow me to get giddy this once. Tiny humanoids are almost never used for space upkeep, and nanoprobes have been crafted for defense throughout the years. I personally have been using them for decades in our antiserum trails with our agents and staff. It seems that no matter how many times a dark element or secret agency tries to poison our camps the nanoprobic infused olives save lives! Science is a marvelous thing when you realize that all of the olives produced in the world have been laced with nanoprobes that fight newly developed concoctions of poison used by these unsightly regimes. Any time I find myself even with the slightest, most minute, near fluttering of malaise coming over me or just the general feeling of being unwell I go into action! I make a very cold, very dry, very LARGE martini with three olives. I drink the martini and then consume the olives. And upon doing so I feel as the world is right again. To me, in my life as of late, I find that all things come full circle. I also find that time passes faster than I ever realized before. And although I wish it would slow down. Suddenly, I find that a wish is not enough!

Urgently and with strict fiery fierceness I ask you: Do you remember the findings that plexibubble does not age, breakdown, or decompose, but that it seems to get younger? A distinction that was made by one of our scientists years backs? I wonder if we could harness this quality and potentially unlock keys to time travel or at the very least cellular rejuvenation? I realize that Lady Rosewater herself has the most knowledge on such information, of turning back the clock and what-have-you. Anastasia do you think it is time to go forth with such investigations? Please do give me your thoughts!

Always,

Darwin

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