A Visitation

I have passed another day in this world. The hour is late, and I need sleep, for the day has been long and tiring. Most of it was passed in my flat and workshop, in the details and familiarity of my palaeontological researches, the work which serves at least to occupy my racing, perplexed mind. But near evening, I had a most astounding guest come to call. Yes, even after the strange and terrible tribulations of the last three weeks somehow I still retain the ability to be astounded! And I must find that fact, in and of itself, a truly astounding thing.

I will write more of these things later, for bed calls to me and I must answer. But I do not feel quite so alone in this foreign land as I felt only a day ago. When my guest had taken her leave, after patiently listening to such parts of my long tale as I could bring myself to relate, I was surprised the see that our conversation had outlasted the night. I left the building and walked alone across the little green at the southeast corner of Babbage, watching as the sunset behind the tall buildings and a crimson moon rose above the opposite horizon. The sea air smelled so familiar, I could almost imagine myself once again safe home in Rhode Island, standing, perhaps, near one of my beloved old lighthouses at Point Judith or Beavertail Island.

I can only hope sleep and dreaming does not ruin this newfound scrap of optimism. Somehow, all has been lost to me, utterly, and yet there might still be hope.