<< BACK TO RELAY ONE LOG # 1: a new page in my journal The first entry is always the hardest. The anxiety over staining the first page, stealing its virginity only to mess up, blot three words out, the entire page becoming one big scribbled mess. You cry in frustration, in remorse, balled up on the floor. A computer might alleviate some of these symptoms, but the anxiety still remains. I sit here, perched on my stool as if I were shifted and pecking all of the keys on the keyboard right now, and I look at the blank screen in front of me, and I wait. I hesitate. If the first entry isn't perfect, then who will excuse the inevitable mediocrity of the second? The third? I can't keep up this perfectionist act forever. But now that I think about it, not even the best actor can keep up an act forever. Outside of the window in the captain's quarters, in the pine tree towering overhead, are these two birds with red heads and gray bodies flitting about in mating. Hummingbirds, I think, from their fast and delicate moves, but Father never taught me to properly identify birds other than myself. Father... Today we're stopped in Iawei in Sector Two for a package pickup. The ocean roars not too far from here. Most of this blasted planet is covered in ocean, just little crags of islands here and there to break up the blue monotony. It used to be like Earth, some say, but the ice caps were *gigantic*, and they melted hundreds upon hundreds of years ago and flooded all but the highest peaks. Mountains became poor imitations of tropical islands. Not much grows in the craggy soil. Not that it matters, since most of the former inhabitants either drowned in the flood or packed up their riches and fled to other planets in the Orchidia System. Seffie and I will only be here for a few more hours, and then we're off to Vuebos to deliver whatever the heck he's picking up this time. And I *swear*, if it's another assassin, *I'm* going to be the one doing the hurting.