12 Jan 1344

GeneticsMary.....
Yes?
I don't mean to pry, but....well, are you colourblind?
No.
I was just wonderring. Your clothes.
Oh. Ha! No, I come from a homogenous population.
A what?
We all look similar. Similar build. Black hair, black eyes. Same blood.
We had a mutant a few hundred years ago. She also happenned to invent our stardrive. She had most of her neurotransmitters scatterred all over the place. It was amazing she lived as long as she did.
It killed her?
Protein incompatiablity. Her children were okay, but then it hit her grandchildren. There were some other genes floating around the population which counteracted the incompatiablity, but they didn't combine until the sixth and seventh generations. And then they took off.
Those genes now dominate our population, so we're all Patricia's children, in more than ways than one.
Who's Patricia?
The mutant. So we're essentially all one family, all similar looking. That's why we dress in strange colours, to stand out at a distance. I have to admit I was surprised the first time I saw you.
Why?
You're the first blonde I've ever seen in real life.
Hmm, so you're one of those bug-eyed mutants.
Do I look like I have bug-eyes?
Well, all the comic books.
Mutations are why you walk on your feet instead of hindhands like the other primates. A mutation is just change. Changes are necessary for life.
How are you changed?
My neurochemistry is different.
How?
Well....I'm sorry, but part of it is still just out of reach. I'm still being blocked. I'm here because of a drug I took. I was probably overstimulated. It erases short term memory among other things.
Why are you telling me this?
I'm trying to explain. I don't remember all the ways I'm different because the drug is still interfering with some parts of my brain.
You seem to remember everything. Either that or you're making up some great stories.
Ha! Maybe neither. Maybe you're still lying on the kitchen floor, bleeding. Maybe me and everything is just a show your mind is putting on while your body finishes dying.
Mary, please. Don't say that.
Sorry.
You're frightening me.
Jenny, do I seem real?
Yes.
Then assume I am. You can never know the absolute truth about me or anyone else. Just your best guess.
That's what you're always saying, it depends on your point of view. 
Suicide is painless/it brings on many changes/...

the fire warms the face of night
the candle shares its calming light
the lamp will show the lane in dark
the flame defends with flash and spark
the hearth prepares the humble bread
and windows shine from waiting stead
Still, it makes me uneasy. I need to know there's something fundamental, some base to build upon. I'd rather stand on a rock than sand.
You want me to prove God exists.
Not God. Something real.

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