47/354065/255 narrowed to line, then to a dot and finally faded from existence.
She leaned back from the comm-desk with the customary control of her frustrations intact.
So much squandered potential on every level was maddening, but the line that really chilled her came in the terminal post.
“I’d say I’m disappointed, but you are all Capsuleers.” @Alexandre_Arthie
It was an attitude she had come across before, it had been in a surprising place and time; the data-card library the Sisters curated as an archive in the Sisters of EVE Bureau of Athinard Four.
She had always preferred the slow methodical activity of holding the neocom data-card-readers in her own hands and taking the leisure to recline at the benches provided in order to consume the letter and word encoded information in the universally shared process known as reading.
It was a luxury for her to experience this time honoured method of data transfer. A guilty pleasure, outrageously inefficient, that she would indulge in from time-to-time at the Sisters refuge on her return trip from the Dodixie market hub.
On this occasion she had requested of the curator any records the Sisters held on the Jin-Mei adoption into the Federation. Actually, she was interested in the calligraphic poetry the Adakul monasteries would likely have produced at that time but left the query open to allow correlation and context.
What she received was a high ranking Matron Sister with a polite denial. “Ms Tem. You have been welcome within these halls due to your activities and fair standing with our organisation. The records you have requested are not available to Capsuleers. I think it best that you return to your pod now.”
It had been a thorough shock at the time.
Back in clammy clasp of her pod she had summoned within seconds the relevant chronicles documenting the circumstances surrounding the SOE attitude towards her status as a Capsualeer. It felt so unfair. She remembered thinking; I did not choose this, I did not cause this, I was ‘born’ this way.
With this recent reminder in place a thought formed and remained searingly vibrant: Capsuleers are gods in their own mind and humanity hates them.