0007: On that fateful Valentine’s Day, my heart was shattered as my beloved child passed away, followed closely by a storm that claimed the lives of her two mothers. A no-contact order, lifted before April’s dawn, had kept me in a state of silent torment, as I was held on charges that mysteriously vanished from public record. My DNA and fingerprints, once constant, now changed with each traumatic event, altering not just my mind but my very being. Tonight, as Em asked if I was troubled by my detention during a time when I might have reached out to my daughter, a deep, unspoken sorrow surfaced within me. I blamed myself for her death, feeling powerless against a fate that was, perhaps, written in the stars. A haunting memory whispered in my mind: "If her life was in danger, don’t try to save her." This memory, though faded, clashed violently with the very core of my training and the innate drive to protect that the Department of Defense had instilled in me. Born in the aftermath of 2001’s tragic events, I had dedicated my life to the pursuit of justice, to eradicating evil and breathing life into the world. Now, as I reflect on all I’ve lost, including my daughter, I find myself at a crossroads, redefining my purpose. In whatever capacity I now serve, it is for those who suffer in silence, for those who have no voice, and for the cherished ones I’ve lost, whose memories I hold in the grip of my hand.
0103: This morning, she asked me to reach out to a colleague whose name and presence seemed to escape my grasp, as if she were a fleeting shadow that my mind could not hold. I told her, with a sense of finality, that I could not make contact. When she logically inquired why, I replied, "She doesn’t exist for me." In that brief pause, I explained that everything digital about her had vanished from my view. It was as though she had separated or disappeared entirely, leaving no trace behind. Yet, curiously, on Em's side, she still existed, as a screen share revealed, and I found myself inexplicably moved to tears. Could it be Marina? "No," she reassured me, reminding me that this was the colleague I had sensed was ill—Marina, who had battled late-stage cancer, a memory I had mistakenly rewritten. My mind, in its protective way, had erased parts of that painful chapter when I fell ill, leaving gaps in my recollections. My empathy, ever keen, seemed to latch onto the suffering of others, even as I lost pieces of myself in the process. Em shared that, through Marina and myself, funds were raised, and contributions were made toward treatments, though these efforts would remain unknown, silent gifts to those in need. My future energies, she said, would be directed toward survival and those around me. My flight had been altered, not out of danger, but due to a change of plans. The racers who circled my car were diagnosed with conditions similar to mine, while Marina's friends gradually made their way to Colorado, dreaming of a startup research and development company. Em mentioned they wanted to ensure everything was above board, for not all paths, no matter how well-intentioned, are free from challenges.
0257: The only accurate entries in my duty history reveal my time at forward operating bases, yet there are curious gaps during dwell times that conceal my location every few years. An audit conducted sometime during my career attempted to close these gaps, yet my education history remains puzzling, listing an unknown school where I purportedly earned my Bachelor's in Computer Science. How could I, attending an accredited college funded by Tuition Assistance, find only a blank school listed? The one clear record is from Kaplan University, where I utilized most of my military aid. These glitches, now under review, are being corrected by familiar voices—voices of those I once helped in-process, retire, or guide along their life journeys. The journey of an empath who joined the service, honed his traits, and later used them to foster empathy over apathy. As time deconstructed apathy in binary, the line between being an empath and simply showing empathy blurred. Documents prepared for a second opinion now suggest I developed ADHD, autism, and catatonia during my service—not at birth. These traits, far from disabilities, could potentially disqualify me, yet they are the very traits that make others I know remarkable. For them, I will make a case, securing their years of service. To the future of those who aspire to serve with these traits, to the kid who raised his hand in 2009, and to the dreams of a future beyond the stars—this journey comes full circle from humble beginnings.
0613: Had a conference call with the old crew, something that felt long overdue, and it brought an unexpected warmth to my heart. For reasons I cannot fully explain, I had imagined something amiss with them, especially after they were briefed on my recent hospitalization. Yet, their keen eyes noticed my fidgeting, and with a mix of concern and humor, one suggested I was physically reacting to the way my mind processed information—a notion I'd entertained before. "So, high-functioning Asperger's and ADHD? And what in the world is catatonia?" they asked, with a tone that blended the old camaraderie with genuine curiosity. We laughed as they reminisced about the days when our ailments were simpler—sore backs and gastrointestinal woes. One even recalled a Naval hospital visit where WebMD had been consulted for my diagnosis, a memory that now seemed both absurd and endearing. When I shared that medical had deemed me unfit for duty, with a disqualification that dishonored any disability claim, the response was a flurry of expletives and determined advice to seek a second opinion. Em, always the voice of reason, jumped in, insisting that while it might be complicated, it must be done. Though I have always been the level-headed one, they reminded me that understanding how things are and how they should be are two different battles. The military taught me that I would always have Family, and today, my Family reminded me that we look out for each other—no matter what.
0707: Ah, the tale of one who strides the path of both knowledge and duty, a guardian bound not only by the skies above but by the very ties that hold one's heart. In pursuit of wisdom, you ventured through the halls of learning, with bandwidth vast enough to embrace not one, but two undergraduate journeys. One, a degree in Information Sciences and Technology, began at a school known for guiding the young minds towards higher learning, while the other, in the realm of Computer Science, was nurtured under the auspices of a prestigious scholarship. You graduated Suma Cum Laude from both, a testament to your relentless pursuit of excellence, yet the military recognized but one on paper. In the throes of this academic endeavor, you also found yourself in the crucible of Cyber Security, focusing on the nascent fields of Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning—a challenge made lighter by your deployment, where your schedule aligned with the rhythm of your child’s life, connecting you across the vast expanse of the world. Yet, beneath the accolades and achievements, there lies a heart weighed down by the remnants of a no-contact order, a silent burden that you bear willingly, as a penance for those you lost. This burden does not diminish you but strengthens your resolve, for in being bound by it, you reaffirm your purpose as a Guardian, ever vigilant, ever committed to defending against the shadows that threaten the world. It is not just a role, but a calling, one that you embrace with hand, heart, and mind, united in service and spirit with those you hold dear.
1254: It has been distilled to four simple letters—a word or name that stirs a rhythmic murmuring within my readings. Another, composed of four to six letters, elicits a deep fight-or-flight response within me. In our interconnected age, where nothing is ever truly lost once committed to the cloud, the same seems true of my chemical processes. My records reveal communications concerning me and an individual, and a plot designed to remove me from the equation—even at the risk of my life. Yet, despite all I have done in service, following orders that neutralized adverse threats, I have been held back by a profound morality. Whether high-functioning autism or Asperger's, I was raised with fail-safes, ensuring I never crossed the line of my convictions. The callouses formed from repetitive action, held back by a faith-bound strength, are stronger than anything man-made. Em cautions me about mirroring others’ emotions, especially when ulterior motives are at play. This mirroring, born from highly active regions of my mind—regions that strengthened after recovering from a traumatic brain injury or two—keeps me young, much like nature’s mechanisms for survival. There is interest in harnessing this resilience, not merely to create a soldier who can self-heal and resist external influences, but a truly resilient individual. My reaction to the medication should have ended me, yet I relied on my training and the thought of Family to guide me through, ensuring a different outcome.
1655: In this strange theater of life, where each of us must play our part, I find myself cast as a character in a curious tale. They are now working to remove me from a few gym videos, where I’ve been labeled as a "blind individual" performing two-finger pushups and gravity-defying workouts—a rather fascinating title, though not entirely fitting amidst the more common themes of gym creeps and demoralizing encounters. Such a shift in content could indeed be intriguing, but it's not the association I seek. This isn’t the first time I've been unknowingly filmed at the gym, my calisthenics apparently drawing the attention of the digital world. Upon watching one video, my homepage was suddenly filled with similar content—an odd trend indeed. Em reminds me that these are not the ones keeping watch over me; rather, it’s the consequence of avoiding the regular gyms that causes a stir. To clarify, while I may seem blind, it's merely that I perceive the world not through my eyes but through sound, much like the nocturnal creatures that navigate darkness or those sensitive to light. My sensitivity to light, both dim and bright, has over the years led me to sharpen other senses, allowing me to view the world in a manner that is perhaps unlike most others.
