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July 2008
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drtamsdiary [userpic]
Tuesday, January 26

Cabins decorated: 1 (not by me) - Monologues listened to: 1 (endless) - Sisters cured: 0 (and holding)

When I left to do research, River was still talking in her sleep. When I returned with her breakfast, she was writing on the walls of my cabin with a brush and ink (with perfect penmanship, of course). The walls were nearly full.

"Are we fingerpainting now?" I said. Note to self - in future, please disengage mouth until brain has begun operation.

"I need to get the words out," she mumbled. She took the calligraphy brush, dipped it in ink, and started dragging it around the corner and into the hallway.

I grabbed her arm. "Mei mei, I think it will make the Captain angry if you write on his entire ship."

She looked frantic. "The words need to get out," she said, tapping her head and then her throat.

"So, talk," I said, taking her hands.

"They need to go somewhere!" she said, frantically.

I pulled her back to the bed and sat her down. "Talk," I said. "I'll listen."

I've been listening for eleven hours, now. She's followed me to the infirmary, to the passenger lounge, and even to the kitchen, where she gave Jayne and Wash a stirring lecture on the mating habits of the sipuncula. (Jayne, for once, seemed too stunned to speak; I should sic River on him more often.) Any time it seemed I was not paying attention, she would develop an ominous fixation on the nearest writing implement and flat surface. I hoped that she would tell me something about what had happened to her, but unfortunately she didn't. The experience was like listening to someone vomit an encyclopedia; she gave immense amounts of information, on a jumble of topics linked by who knows what connection.

Kaylee was kind enough to spell me for a while, a few hours ago. When they came back from the engine room, she shook her head and said, "I sure know more about the elements in a fuel cell than I did when I went down."

River's words are starting to slow down, and a few minutes ago, she said, "You don't need to hold them anymore," and sat down with her back to mine. She's leaning against me, reciting trigonometric tables quietly to the ceiling, while I make this entry.

My walls give an exceptional explanation of the evolution of Asiatic languages on Earth; it even has lingual family trees. It's informative, and, of course, every character is beautiful and perfectly drawn. I just wish she'd written something more useful to our present predicament, like large sections of the DSM XXXI or perhaps the contents of "Surviving the Outer Colonies Without a Gun on 35 Credits a Day".

I think she's fallen asleep. Tonight I'll carry her into her own room; if she has another urge to redecorate, she'll have clean walls from which to start.


great entry! i had been hoping for one soon...