by J. S. Volpe
* * *
T-mail transmission:
From: Solace Tenant
To: Reynard Fuggs
August 23, 6692; 6:00 PM:
Reynard,
I’m sorry I just disappeared without an explanation. I really am.
So here’s the explanation:
Some things came up in our dialogue—things you said, comments you made—that made me realize just how little we really know each other. I am not going to tell you what, and I know how unfair that sounds, but I really don’t want to restart a dialogue.
Just because we’re both Elders and have run into each other a handful of times over the last six thousand years, we used that to foster a false sense of familiarity. We don’t really know each other at all. The times we met added up to, what, maybe a few days? A few days out of six thousand years.
We are strangers. That’s all there is to it. And I think it’s best and healthiest if we stop deluding ourselves that we know each other in any significant or meaningful way.
I will, of course, cherish the time we spent together, both in reality and over the T-Net, and perhaps someday we will meet again. But right now, we must bid each other adieu.
I hope your days are plentiful and bountiful.
—solace
