-- 8 FEBRUARY 2267 --

There is something wrong with the sky again. Most likely this is due to the war, but the officials won't admit it. The UV readings were so high this morning I didn't risk going overground and so had to leave two hours early to be sure of a place on the transer. I often wonder why the Institute issues "priority passes" to its staff because the public transport system hasn't recognised their worth in over 20 years.

I read in the news that the last gorilla died three days ago. Thus there is an almighty bureaucratic tussle going on between the scholars, the environmentalists (what's left of them, of course), and the travel agents. Time Travel Corp sees only dollar signs and not the outrageous suffering. Makes me sick thinking about it. Almost makes me ashamed to be a scientist.

Twain Zeelan is making romantic overtures again. This is unfortunate in many ways. I simply don't have the time and certainly not the inclination. There's talk of promoting me to a Clearance Three and sending me back to just before the First Purge, which would be the third time they will have sent me there, if they do it. Twain should have his visual cortex fixed (there's a new booth at Main Station that does it for only $4k, in 20 minutes, although I should think for that money it would be a rather boolean job). If he did he'd realise there are at least half a dozen other researchers in the department who would be delighted to spend time with him. Silly old Twain. I wasn't interested four years ago and I'm still not.

I've been approached by the Purity Commission (the heritage department of the official library) to submit part of my personal journal for a time capsule for the uni's vaults. Something to do with the bicentennial. I thought there were more important, more urgent things to plan. Silly old bureaucracy. No, it's worse than that, but if I start taking it seriously I fear I will traff my faculties and burn my occies on UV, whereby I will be out of a job. I have too many debts. I rather need this job (never mind that I like it).

Why they chose me I don't know, but I made some enquiries on my break and learned that whoever accepts, gets their account housed in the most prestigious capsule of the twelve - the one with the late 20th century journals that were only recently released from the Presidential Archives, plus the late 20th century fiction pieces. I was puzzled as to why they'd want to put a very ordinary C.23 piece in with irreplaceable C.20 pieces, until I threatened the query database with a nanostack and found that there is no real mystery to it: as usual, it's down to poor organisation, as they intend to store the C.20 inserts in frock modules. Why? Nobody knows. Sloppy programming is my guess. I don't know of any official body who has used frock modules in the last 50 years, thus there are millions of them just lying around, waiting to be "salvaged". They are cheap to power and their supposed infinite viability makes them seem a secure medium, although I am assuming that someone will remember to put at least one decoder in the capsule. Otherwise it's a complete waste of time. So, ultimately, no mystery to it: they can't fit much else in alongside the C.20 pieces but frock modules need to be maxed before they will seal (one of the reasons they are obsolete), so they want someone to slot in a bit of light entertainment, written in nano that can then be "puffed" to precisely match the remaining piddly bit of space.

I may as well agree to submit something, "for the greater good", but frankly I don't have time (hush) to extract appropriate material from anything I've written so far; if they make me a Three and tip me down on 2004 again I won't have the opportunity to keep two journals (one for general consumption, one for my peer archives), so (I'm thinking, I'm thinking)...

I guess this is as good an entry as any other. Apparently I don't need to submit a full year's worth, just whatever I am happy to part with. I've been assured that my account will be censored only of anything that is considered a threat to "national security" (a bit of a joke in the present global circumstances); obviously they've forgotten that by the time the capsules are opened, nearly 120 years from now, any records that haven't been destroyed by another nuclear war will already have been in general release for between 40 and 70 standard years.

But they promised. Thus I am allowed to say "silly old bureaucracy". Don't you just love freedom of speech?

Proper introductory traff next entry.