by J. S. Volpe
* * *
T-mail transmission:
From: Solace Tenant
To: Reynard Fuggs
July 9, 6692; 6:22 AM:
Good Morning Reynard,
The heat here is still terrible. I keep hearing about how in some places the Syrkranian gum in people’s shoes and car tires has been melting, though some say that’s only because the companies that manufacture them cut corners by not treating the rubber with certain chemicals that make it more heat-resistant. Don’t know if that’s true or not, but…wow, it sure is hot!
On the sort-of-bright side, the weather forecasts are saying we’ll get a massive thunderstorm soon, big enough to end the drought, though the heat might linger on.
Yes, those new incubators are indeed a lot like Interon’s Gestation Units. It’s incredible how quickly the innovations are coming these days. I mean, they’ve finally put folks on the Moon, and they’re talking about permanent moon-bases. Those were old news in Interon, but Eridia’s catching up fast! I think all the input from different species, with all their different ways of thinking and seeing, really helps to foster progress. It’s a shame it took a few thousand years before they trusted each other enough to really work together.
Thanks for the nice words about my description of Cara’s birth, and about Cara herself. She was indeed a remarkable person. Have you ever had children? I can’t remember (or maybe you never told me). I do recall that you were married when we met in Colbon, but you told me you were thinking about splitting up with her. Then you vanished—though I’m sure you had your reasons. ;) Whatever happened with that girl? I mean, I know she’s gone now, but how did things work out? I don’t think we ever talked about that, did we? If this is too personal for you to discuss, I’ll understand, and sorry in advance if it is.
Peace be with you.
—solace