[Note: These are not meant to be anything other than a brain dump. I write them (them being the Daily Musings) to get them out of my head and to keep writing every day. They aren't edited for content or grammar or spelling or anything.  Perhaps, depending on how the story goes, I will one day clean them up and ship them off to my editor. But not yet. And no, I have no idea where this is going :)]

Journeys : Rejection
"So you feel that designating you as having divergence would be incorrect?"


"And why would that be," asked Doctor Saul Tempelton. The doctor sat in an over sized chair built specifically for the Sychitri frame. Whether or not the fact that most Corps members were human was a matter of prejudice or habit, the fact was that all Corps members had to be examined by a member of the Sychitri. No one really knew why anymore, it was one of those things lost to time.

Sychitri could be described as graceful giants. Their extremely long arms and legs made them look graceful no matter what they did. Even knocking over lamps looked graceful. Because of the length of their appendages, they always looked like they were moving very slowly but it was highly deceptive. They could easily cover twice the distance as a human in a quarter of the steps.

This ran through Michael's head as he contemplated just escaping through the office door. He didn't really think the Doctor would give chase, but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Michael sighed, "Because, I haven't really don't anything wrong."

"According to reports, you have been investigating members of the Va Ar Citi. Specifically members that attacked and killed patrons at an event you were observing. Is that not correct?"

Michael shifted forward in his seat, "I'm not sure 'investigating' is the right word. Yes, I made inquiries about who they were, but only in the interests of being through."

"But you are an Observer. That goes above your mandate." 

"And I'm sorry, but that is stupid. I don't want to be an Observer forever. I'd like to get promoted to Implementer or perhaps even Investigator. But Corps members get marked divergent for developing creating thinking skills and independent thought and curiosity, attributes that those advanced positions require. How does anyone advance if they get cut down in their prime and before they've had the chance to develop them? That makes no sense."

The Doctor leaned back in his chair making notes on a pad. "It also says here that you are a member of the Northern Expansion Recon Division. As well as the Geo Explorers of Eqatine, K Series. Is that true?"

"What does it matter," said Michael getting defensive, "They are just groups, labels. They don't make me subversive or twisted. They definitely don't make me have Advanced Divergence Disease."

"We are all labels Michael. Labels are perhaps the most important thing we have. They let us identify and categorize others. They allow us to feel comfortable because if we don't understand something, we can label it as similar to something we do understand and put it in a little box. Labels and designations are vital. Never shun a label."

Michael looked away, afraid that the Doctor would see the anger and frustration building on his face. "So what, you're just going to label me as 'divergent' and ship me off the the Ri'Taluin Institute for rehab?"

The Doctor made more notes on his pad, "Actually no. I am however going to schedule a few more interviews. I want to hear more about what you think having divergence means."

Michael stared out the window as his mom pulled the car into the driveway. She put it in park and just sat there, the car still running, Michael continuing to stare into nothing.

"Michael. Talk to me please. How was your session?"


"Michael, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"Help me? You think I'm broken and damaged, why would you help me?"

"I do not think you are damaged! Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Why else take me to the doctor's if you aren't trying to 'fix' me. "

"Because, I'm trying to help you. I don't know what else to do and I'm hoping Doctor Templeton can help figure out a way to get you to focus and concentrate so you don't day dream in class all the time."

"Maybe I day dream because class is so boring!"

"If it's so boring then why aren't you doing your homework!"

"You don't understand," Michael shouted and flailed at the door handle. He eventually managed to get the car door open and jumped out of the car, running up the sidewalk and around the back of the house.

His mom just sighed and lowered her head onto the steering wheel.


"Lord Michael." 

Michael continued staring out the balcony of the castle, not hearing his advisers call. He stared out at the darkening hills off in the distance, watching as the demarcation line between the light and dark crept slowly forward towards the castle where he stood. He watched as giant pale skinned Striders played in the last few moments of sun light.

"My Lord, " said the adviser as he gently laid a hand on Michael's shoulder, causing Michael to turn, his mind still on the image of the hills.

Slowly Michael began to focus on the tall, well dressed adviser standing before him. "Dahl my old friend. What is it?"

"Nothing vital sir, just that you need to sign a few more papers before you leave on your trip."

"Of course," Michael said as he made his way back to the large wooden desk in the room. "Remind me what these are again."

"Most are nothing more than standard allocation and provision orders, wheat, water, cattle… etc. The bottom one is a note you wrote for your mother about your trip. You wanted to go over it one last time before you left."

Michael read the note again, refreshing the contents in his memory. When he had finished he glanced up and saw that Dahl was still standing next to him, hovering slightly.



"Don't 'sir' me old friend. You have something to say. Out with it."

"Are you sure you want to do this? Leave like this?"

"Do I want to? No. But we both know that I can face Lord Ritalion on my own."

"Perhaps sir…"

"Drop the 'sir' Dahl, it's just us."

"Fine. Running away isn't going to help anything Michael. You know that. Lord Ritalion isn't going to disappear just because you leave the castle. In fact, leaving will probably do more damage than staying."

"How? As long as I'm here the castle, the country is in danger."

"And if you leave? What's to stop him from just taking over everything. Nothing. Seek out the Council, learn the ways of the Shino. Maybe it's time to stop being, and start doing."

Michael picked up the note he has just read, and read it all over again. He flicked his eyes back and forth between his friend and the note explaining everything to his family.

Finally he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and crumpled the note in his hands.

"Perhaps you are right Dahl."


Michael's mother stared out the window over the kitchen sink watching the flickering light in her son's treehouse.