The Beaded Tapestry

Exploring the writing and inspirations of Elisa Weeber

Letters from Oxford – Letter 15

Dear Victoria,

I convey this written account from our old quarters on the top floor of mother and father’s home. We have just returned from the ethereal pageant conducted in the old Globe Theater.  The entire production was choreographed to the music found in the lost transcripts of Leonardo Da Vinci.  Although I regret my inability to narrate this incredible experience in the style it deserves, I have attempted to do my utmost best to define the encounter.

-The stage is obscured as we take our seats.  We are positioned only a few rows back from the edge of the orchestra box. Mother is wearing one of her more elaborate creations, putting the rest of the clientele to shame.  Bronze satin cascades around her seated position, covering the floor beneath her feet in a shimmering pool, giving the illusion she is encircled by a lake of liquid metal.  I also sit adorned, choosing the dark blue waterfall adaption she produced years ago for one of my awards ceremonies. Father sits between us, debonair as always, in his dark tuxedo.

It is not a long wait before the house lights dim, announcing the imminent start of the production.  A hypnotic melody flows from the back of the domain just as the thin veil of curtains slowly retreats to reveal the stage.  A single figure sits on a levitating cumulus, holding a lyre tightly to its form. The music originates from his seated form, a lone human carrying the history of the world. The haunting melody increases in complexity as more figures slowly makes their appearance encircling the lone player.  Planetary bodies from our own solar system float above the stage surface, each accompanied by an allegorical figure suspended below. They sway to the music, creating a hypnotic dance across the eyes of the audience. 

Deep in the background, other celestial bodies begin to appear.  Constellations and galactic representations of distant neighbors frolic in the distance, hinting at the vastness of the cosmos.  Orion and the zodiacs light up the background, as though they are choruses accompanying the main players. The orchestra slowly joins the solitary lyrist, building the combinations of frequencies as each galactic body is introduced. There were furies and demons, elves and centaurs, each more elaborately adorned as they were added to the onstage entourage. It was done artistically, never once distracting from the incredible music, but complementing and emphasizing the intricacies’ flowing from the musicians.

Watching the incredible culmination of Da Vinci’s imagination, prancing about in front of this modern audience, I was temporarily transported back to 18th century Florence. I had once read a narrative of the production Da Vinci produced called The Masque of the Planets.  The interpretation of that moment in time was so perfectly depicted in front of my eyes it was hard to imagine I was anywhere but there. With great difficulty I brought myself back to the present, focusing my attention on the moment, once again in the 24th century.  

I had to remind myself more than once that these frolicking characters had been adorned by our mother.  Her talent has grown exponentially since the last production I experience from her.  I could see her glancing at me as each new character was introduced, trying to determine my reaction.  I do not believe she was disappointed since my delight was evident throughout the performance.

The only thing missing was you.  I caught myself multiple times reaching for your hand as some new wonder entered my sight,  but I came up empty handed.  I have always compared your genius to Leonardo’s.  Your ability to combine the artistic arts with scientific study and utilization was so like the description of Da Vinci’s genius. The performance solidifies my vision of your work with the Anomaly.  By using the process of combining the ethereal nature of the creature with your own scientific utility, will allow you to bring its influence to Earth. As a scientist I was drawn to the performance tonight as I never thought possible. The music called to my inner self, watching the melding of science and the artistic to create a vision both real and otherworldly.

We left the theater in a daze several hours later, feeling as if only a moment had passed, or maybe a lifetime. I only hope I have done justice to the experience.

My love to you,


Letters from Oxford – Letter 14

The dawn horizon is a deep magenta, foretelling of a damp day to come.  The desert is hushed with anticipation.  Holding its proverbial breath as it waits for the rising of the sun.  The aroma of coffee fills the camp, drifting in waves past my silent silhouetted form, as I stand at the edge of civilization gazing out at the arrival of a new day.  The anticipation of discovering new wonders fills my thoughts and I cradle my cup of energy, impatient to begin.

The sun pops its head above the Earths rim and the temperature begins to rise exponentially.  Removing the protective covers from the equipment to be utilized for the chosen tasks, the work for the day begins.

Hours of measurements and adjustments follow, blocking out any thought outside the scope of my work.  A distant rumble jolts me out of my isolation and I pull my gaze upwards away from my readings to study the sky above.  Another deep rumble echoes down the arroyo, sending shivers down my spine.  A flash of lightening exposes the scene, revealing a wall of water barreling down the once dry creek bed toward my solitary figure. The approach is quick and hits before there is time to escape to higher ground. The deluge engulfs me, carrying my helpless form as it moves through the once orderly camp. The remains of my work surround me, buffeting my limbs left and right as pieces of heavy equipment and implements of my research travel he deluge as it travels its course.   There is a new sound above the roar of the water.  I struggle to raise my head above the water level, just making out figures outlined along the upper bank shouting at my passing form.  Up ahead a new group appears as I speed forward, tossing an object directly into my unalterable path. I feel my body catch on something and I scramble to find any type of hold achievable. My hands recognize the texture of fishing net as my grip improves and the material becomes taut as the rescuers begin the arduous task of pulling me to safety.  The progress is slow as they cautiously direct my rescue without dislodging my precarious hold.  I am within a meter from the edge of the water when a piece of the flotsam traveling past me collides with my left side. Excruciating pain travels through every nerve of my body, sending my brain into overload.  My only functioning limb releases the life line and there is only pain.  Pain and then dark oblivion.

Dear Victoria,

Slowly the narrative of my accident is unfolding.  I have found it easier to relate it as an outsider looking in.  It somehow keeps the experience from enveloping me and sending my emotions back to that day. The state of my subconscious has improved so much over the last few months that I am being cautious in my recollections of that day, attempting to record the events, but not to immerse myself too deeply in the trauma. So it helps to look at it as writing a drama instead of something that almost took my life. I had forgotten my visions of the figures on the banks of the canyon. I cannot recall their faces, but the voices of my rescuers are etched into my memory.  

This is but a piece of the total recollection, but it is enough to give you an idea of how the re-creation is going. This is also allowing me to give a timeline to match the scanned documentation. It still amazes me that I survived, but even more that part of the equipment was salvaged.  I received a written message with one of the units shipped back.  It was from one of the rescuers.  It stated, “We made a great effort to recover your surviving equipment.  Since the only words we could get from you after your rescue was, ‘Where is my spectrometer? Where is my equipment?’ We determined that these pieces were of great importance to you.  We hope they are repairable and will once again server you purpose.”  It is strange how perceptive this group was.  Anomaly influence or pure coincidence?  It matters not! I have spent a great deal of time rebuilding the mostly intact pieces and I now have a mirror lab complete at the college.  There is still the tailoring to be done for the new geographic location, but this will be the bulk of my task in the coming months. I do not know if this would have been accomplished without the salvaged units and the recovered data the New Zealanders made possible.  I would have had to start from scratch and there is now not time for that before my departure for the Phycodurus.  I will always be grateful to my rescuers for what to them seemed a minor task compared to my survival.

Now that the lab is assembled I have decided that now is a good instance in my preparations to take a short break and visit our parents.  The travel restrictions have been lifted by my medical team and the next steps of the project will take me through the remainder of my time on Earth. Thus I will leave Oxford tomorrow and take the train south to our childhood home in London.  Our mother has been to Oxford a few times during my convalescence, but I have not seen father since your departure. He was never one for dealing well when one of us was sick as children and my accident was no exception.  Since my limb is now almost indistinguishable from my other arm, he should be more at ease in my presence. 

Mother has arranged an unsurpassable experience during my visit.  Because of her extensive contribution to the costumes used in the production, she has acquired opening night tickets to the exquisite performance of Da Vinci’s lost music. The pageant will be performed at the old Globe theatre on the backs of the Thames.  The only thing missing from this joyous occasion is you.  We both were ecstatic when these lost transcripts were discovered after being lost for centuries.  It was thought that Mr. Da Vinci never transcribed any of his scores.  The historians thought his music was lost forever.  Then we read last year of recovered notes and a single notebook hidden in a monastery in Milan, frequented by the artist.  Such a find! It has taken almost a year for the preparation of their unveiling to be completed.  The content of these manuscripts has been a closely guarded secret until this planned unveiling in London. In just a few days an incredible Passion play extravaganza will be introduced to the world. They are keeping with the tradition of the huge productions that Da Vinci once worked on himself as a young man. What would he think if he could view his music scores transformed into an epic production?

I will give you a full account of my visit in my next letter.  It will be impossible to give a suitable account of the experience, but I will try my best.  My only consolation for you not being able to experience this with me is the hope that on New London there will be a chance to experience something as phenomenal. I hope you are able to have a similar experience on New London during your time there.  That is my only consolation for your absence during this incredible occurrence.

Love always,


Letters from Oxford – Letter 13

Dear Victoria,

I have just returned from my lecture.  There are only a few left before the winter break, so I decided to surprise the attendees with a progressive look at my previous project and the process of study that was used.  It started out with the evolution of my ideas on the nature of the Anomaly.  An explanation of how using interdisciplinary thought influenced the initial outline that developed.  The lecture delved into the relationship between the structure and emissions of the Phenomenon and the parallels that were made to the Fourier transformation of wave fronts.  Oh course this is old news to you.  Our progression into the understanding of the creature has moved well past this initial analogy, but the baseline for our conclusions is still sound.  This also allows me to stay completely in line with my agreed subject with the college and in no way compromise the secrecy of our current work for the Louvre.

Strangely, reminiscing about our old project has revitalized my current struggles and I have come to the conclusion that I should use similar methods to get past the conundrum of the similarities between the anomalistic signal patterns and the recorded brain song played by my subconscious during the desert debacle.  

Working in the lab, listening to the progressive sounds of Eno, has pushed my thoughts to reorganize. Creating an atmosphere to begin the process of pulling from different disciplines of scientific study to improvise the next conclusion.  How did the music of the Anomaly implant itself into my brainwaves? Was it trying to help? Hinder? Influence or console?  The question is open. 

These ideas once slipped my detection due to the hardwired way of processing within my chosen discipline. These archaic practices limited my sphere of thinking. I then built on this new process, combining different avenues of science, allowing my cognizant ability to create and solidify the new theories hovering at the back of the evidence. Coaxing then to reveal their secrets.

After placing this analogy in practice, my first breakthrough came yesterday.  I was sitting at the workbench with the data from the Anomaly projected on my left eye and the frequency pattern recorded during my accident positioned on my right eye.  You know very well that one of my constant struggles is the annoying habit my brain has of picking out the eights within data when I try to view it.  This occasion was no exception for this difficulty and I constantly struggled to divert my gaze away from this favorite digit scattered across the page.  I was re-directing my attention to relieve this habit when the projected image from the Anomaly slipped by ninety degrees. All across the page the view was still etched into my cornea, so the after image looked like this – 8888888-. So, if you turn the page dear sister, what do you see? My mind did a turn I can tell you. Realizing all this time I had been fixated on ∞∞∞∞ infinity. I only needed to look at it from a different angle.  Such a chance occurrence, but so profound to my thinking.  I wish you were here in the lab to hear my gasp of astonishment.  It was truly a mind bending event. It answers so many internal questions (and raises a few new ones) about how my mind works and why we have had such success in our work.  It is not all about the math and science, but how our brains evolve these items and converge them into a story.  Similar to the creation of the early universe and how the song was composed by the great improvisational composer and released to the cosmos.  

With this thought in mind,  I turned the projection of the song from my accident ninety-degrees in the opposite direction and got to work.  It made so much sense now. We will come to that later Victoria.  The play will have to unfold gracefully to give it the full drama it deserves.

Just as the theoretical physics community in the beginning of the twenty-second century realized when they used this multidiscipline process.  The evolution of the cosmos was not an analogy of a balloon as they once envisioned, slowly expanding in all directions.  Instead they slowly evolved their vision and determined it more resembled a bag of popcorn. Expanding in bursts, as kernels of trapped energy dissipated into the vacuum of their new space. Taking all the pieces and creating a picture that includes each flavor, till a new taste emerges, was the new way of study.

I feel an exhilaration I have not felt since before my horrific experience in New Zealand.  Now I will return to my kettle and continue to add ingredients and let you sleep. 

Love Annalis

Letters from Oxford – Letter 12

Dear Victoria,

The weather has turned bitter and the passage of autumn has been all too short.  The forecast for snow was announced early this morning and the campus groundkeepers were out in force, salting the many paths and walkways of the university.  The drastic change in weather is prominent in my regenerated limb and I just want to curl up in a sphere next to the library fire like a kitten.  There is of course too much to accomplish for this type of response, but the impulse is prominent.

The school term is almost at an end and I will not be returning to the lecture podium after the winter break.  The college has allowed me the extended use of the laboratory space without the added stipulation of continuing my lectures. I am grateful for this reprieve, but know it comes with added consequences. My association with the Louvre, combined with an added concession to allow limited access to my past research, plays a large part in this allowance. I have no regrets playing this card to relieve me of the bi-weekly lectures.  They will have tight restrictions on what information they have access to, but since that information will be nearly abolished after we reveal our current finding on the Anomaly,  I have no fears access to this outdated knowledge will return to haunt us.  I realize this decision should have been discussed with you as a shared owner of the data, but that is not possible now.  The cross permission father put in place for us covers this type of singular decision. as we foresaw a need to make certain autonomous rulings during this period of separation.  I just did not realize I would be using this clause so soon.

I am currently working on a complete overview of what occurred during my accident in New Zealand.  It is painful and traumatic to relive this episode, but I need to capture the timeline in order to correlate the data recorded with an episodically accurate timestamp. The compression and dilation of time created by my brain during the episode is fascinating.  The analyses of my brain responses during the occurrence that was systematically recorded by the equipment and how my brain documented it are vastly different. After I complete the narrative, a comparison of the different timelines will have to be completed.  How my brain actually remembers the incident and what the numbers indicate.  This should be visible by matching the synoptic delays caused by the flight or fight mechanism between and within the neurons.  It might explain the erroneous frequencies I noted on my first analyses of the figures.  Although I am leaning towards the hypothesis that the Nonpareil had an influence during the accident, the need to rule out all possible alternative explanations is paramount.  It may only be an unexplained arrangement of the signals caused by the endogenous neurochemicals inside my brain.  If the time stamp of the figures from the equipment correlates with the visuals stimulated during the episode, this will give a much needed boost to my conclusions concerning the involvement of the Anomaly. It will be difficult to filter out the temporal dilation and compression caused by the trauma, but it should be possible.


I should have done the narrative sooner.  Every day that passes since the onset of the flood causes the details to dissipate and become polluted.  Like the phenomenon of sfumata, losing the details of that dreadful day as they disperse like smoke into the mountain winds. When the narrative is through, I will share it with your presence.  I can no longer refer to this entity as a ghost.  It feels too premeditative.

We will have to see how  your logic interprets this retelling and what conclusions she comes to about the influence of our Black Swan.

Sleep well and with peaceful dreams.



Letters from Oxford – Letter 11

‘Salutations’ dear sibling on the eve of your birthday.
  Since you are now deep in hibernation aboard the Derringer, this one does not count.  We are now the same age since my November inauguration date and will remain the same age until next year when I turn thirty-one, right before the start of my own voyage.  Then I will be the older sister for only a short time before my deep sleep begins.  Once you arrive at your destination the clock starts again for you.  Sadly, once I arrive we will have returned to our normal hierarchy and you will once again be the older sibling.  I read back in your letter that you referred to us as the same age during the voyages.  I believe you forgot to calculate the change in my departure date.  Previously I was to enter stasis before the advent of my thirty-first birthday, but I am now leaving after that date.  I realize you are hesitant to allow me to be older, even for a short duration, but this is indeed the case.  A small conundrum for you to contemplate and a much needed distraction for my mind during the daily struggle with my regen. Although the technician assures me that it is going better than expected, I tire of the crawling time frame of my recovery.  Any diversion is welcomed, including projecting my thoughts out to where you are now and where we both will eventually be. 

The lab and historic data from New Zealand fills the rest of my cogitations and the conclusions of the later are nearing a resolution.  As close as was humanly possible, I have reassembled the setup that was present ‘Down Under’ in my research camp. There are of course the adjusted coordinates and environmental conditions to be considered, but I am certain these can be incorporated into the adjustments for the sensors’ array. The results from the next few months will not have near as much clarity as the numbers from the desert locations due to the increase noise from the moisture heavy atmosphere here in Oxford,  but I can still use this information to make a final background reading to do a comparison with the soon to come Alpha Centauri numbers. Our original plan did not include this step (since we both would be in stasis at this time), but we will have to work with what has been handed to us.  I originally hoped the lab in New Zealand would continue to collect Earth data from the Anomaly, but now it will have to come from Oxford for the final comparison.

I have now been given clearance to resume my physical training and I have set aside a few hours a week to ramp up my endurance.  The first few sessions were excruciating, but I have now increased my endurance to seven kilometers, three times a week. This is far below the forty-eight kilometers a week I ran before my accident, but I will be up to capacity before my scheduled departure for the space flight.  I hope once you get planet side that your recovery is swift and you can resume your running schedule at the studio site.  I had forgotten how euphoric this activity is.  It has decreased (although not eradicated) the night terrors I am experiencing and the erratic nerve signals my arms have been sending during the regeneration. It is required that I bind my repairing limb across my chest to alleviate the muscle strain,  but I have learned to adapt my gait sufficiently so the interference is minimal. 

I pulled one of your favorite music enumerates from our database to accompany me during my run sessions.  It was necessary to adjust the neural trigger for my cerebellum, but I was even able to use the same finger trigger you had developed to make the adjustments simpler.  The playlist is still too long for my current endurance, but I will get there.  It gives me a target to strive for and a small amount of competitive spirit to keep me motivated.  

There have been some new developments in the larger metropolises for this type of data retrieval. It is not clear to me if it is being done because people cannot recall their sub-routine to instigate their embedded programs or if it is only a new fad.  There are several pop up businesses that created a tattoo over the trigger location on the subjects body.  I have seen a few students here at Oxford with the reminder visible, but from what I have heard they are rampant in London.  One student in my audience last week had three different locations tattooed. One was a spiral on his small finger, another was a treble clef on his wrist and the last was a bullseye on his earlobe.  I assume the music symbol was to remind him of his trigger to initiate his music list, but the other two I have no clue.  Triggers for sleep on his finger or a book experience on his ear lobe, your guess is as good as mine.  It is enough to fill my synoptic memory with one program,  I do not need multiple disciplines cluttering up my already busy gray matter.

It is convenient to have the music subroutine available at all times though.  And what a clever cerebral trigger you created to prompt your run list. If I am out running and realize I need some additional motivation, I only need to tap the pads of my small finger and thumb together four times and envision the molecular formula for salt and water. (perspiration, funny) Then your play list begins.  Very expansive thinking! It reduces the chance of starting the music at an awkward moment, (say in the middle of a lecture) and keeping the convenience of instant access.  The music is also a very motivating combination of offerings.  I hope you are able to squeeze in time during your busy startup schedule to also experience this.  We will both need the added concentration to continue the myriad of activities need to continue our dream

I have rabbited on long enough.

Love Always,



Project 24 – Celtic knot earrings

Nice project found on facet jewelry site.

Letters from Oxford – Letter 10

Dear Victoria,

What an incredible experience I have to share with you.  I was invited to visit a pocket zone this weekend with one of the ecological research fellows tenured here at Oxford.  These areas are so closely guarded, that is it a rare treasure to be allowed access by anyone outside of the discipline. It is such a shame that this incredible vision is hidden away from the world. Unfortunately the necessity for this type of habitat and the extreme steps taken to protect them are a sign of our troubled world. The isolation of these delicate balanced environment has become a normality and their continued success has become an integral player in our continued survival. 

During the six hour drive to Loch Rannoch, Simona explained the history and details of the site.  Professor Simon as her research students lovingly refer to her, was full of knowledge and enthusiasm on the long trip.  Nestled between a small loch and a protective range of mountains, the two thousand acre facility houses one of the last remaining colonies of bees in the British Isles. Only the sister site located in Australia is larger and the combination of the two create over six thousand acres of protected environment.  Both are the brain children of Dr. Frances Sten, a twenty first century bioengineer from Sydney. His incredible vision was put in place to curb the disastrous decline of the bee population across the globe. If not for Dr. Sten’s diligence early in the twenty second century there would no longer exist a world as we know it.  It is disturbing to me even now how close we came to destroying our home.  There is still a delicate balance to be kept and all life teeters on the edge of a knife blade here on Earth. Only through the continued works of pioneers like Sten, along with innovators such as the World Balance Council and their  PH neutralizing endeavors, that has kept our world from failing.

As the transport neared the sight I could feel the excitement grow in the professor. Her enthusiasm bubbled to a crescendo just as the outline of the enclosure became visible on the horizon.  The only discernible indication was a slight distortion of the atmosphere. The isolating material used to protect the inner environment from the outside world is  a master of invention.  Using re-molecularized polymers that once polluted the Earth, the structural form was near invisible other than a rainbow hue to the surrounding air.  It gave the impression of looking at the backdrop of mountain ranges through a polarized lens.  Varying the hues of the background as the vehicle made its way down one side of the rectangular form.  It was immense and the road outlining it took us several kilometers around the perimeter before we came to a stop near the main entrance. A triple entrance system protected the delicate atmosphere within and we both were outfitted in specially designed coveralls before allowed entry into the inner sanctum.  The air was sensual when I took my first breath.  This is the only word to define it. Pungent with the smell of fertile loam and tinged with the sweet background fragrance of pollen. I do not know what I envisioned, but the first view of me new surrounding caught me by surprise. The interior was very utilitarian. Neatly planted rows of fragrant vegetation could be see, but the area inside the barrier was barren for several meters surrounding the inner grounds.  Not a blade of grass or weed was present within this strip of ground.  Simona explained the need for this isolation strip, creating a perfect line following the shimmering walls of the enclosure. As resourceful as humans are, bees are more resourceful and cunning. When the ground cover had been allowed to encroach on the walls of the facility, the bees became expert escape artists.  The researchers found that only if the bees were drawn to the barrier by attractive vegetation were they even aware they were held in captivity.  So if nothing attracted them close to the encircling material, they remained content within the confines of the rectangle. As soon as any growth was allowed to encroach on the edge then the bees became enticed with the processed wall material and attempted to break it down.  The creation of the barren strip was the final solution to prevent damage to the altered polymer and thwart any escape attempts by the inhabitants.  Simona explained that all ten of the pocket zones now in operation around the world used this same method.  Unfortunately many bee populations were lost before the process was perfected.  Devastated by the predators and contaminates creating havoc in their once native environment once they ventured outside.

We spent the day touring the vast acreage, stopping at each research station for a detailed description of what steps were being conducted in that quadrant. Simona also gave me a tour of the drone barracks.  These mass produced similes of the once prolific species of honey bee, are almost indistinguishable from their biological counterparts. Created by using drone and nanotechnology incorporated with the DNA gene splicing breakthroughs of the twenty second century, these cyber drones are the saviors of the current world crops.  Once the mechs have been created, they are integrated into the colonies within the biospheres.  They then assimilate the method of pollination and survival from there natural family.  Once this learning has been embedded in there gel network, they are removed from the enclosure and released into the designated areas of the outside environment. Once released into the agricultural zones of Earth they provide a sustainable alternative to their endangered brothers.  Beings that supply the same mechanisms needed for pollination, but ones that are not susceptible to the threats that almost decimated the true bee population.

The last station was the reason for my privileged invitation to join Professor Simon on her rounds. Directly opposite the main entrance to the pocket zone, near the far wall, forty acres had been reserved for a special project.  The plot of land stood apart from the rest of the surrounding soil and the top layer of ground had been removed and replaced with a slightly darker mix.  Strange plants covered the area in a rich carpet of fanciful colors.  Dark magenta, true blue and dark azure intermixed with the normal greens and reds of Earth foliage and blossoms. Here was the reserved area for non-Earth species.

Instead of the constant hum heard in the previous areas of the habitat, here it could only be heard from a distance. Simona took me along one row of brilliant azure blossoms, each adorned with a violet star in their center.  Halfway down the row she stopped, squatted down and motioned for me to join her.  Now at the same level as the blooms, I could see we were not alone.  Here was the creature I had come all this way to see.  A spindly form clung to the stem of the plant, just below the roof of vibrant flowers.  At the end of each of its six delicate legs, a small bristle like appendix sprouted. The moss tinted creature was gently caressing the tops of the flowers with these small yellow brushes, collecting the violet substance and transferring it to a pouch at its belly. Completing the collection, it unfolded delicate transparent wings from beneath a fold on its back and hoovered just beneath the cover of the blossoms to move to the next stem.  The creature never ventured above the floral canape, remaining invisible to the observers above.  This was most likely a defense mechanism, Simona explained as she rose to a standing position.  

This creature and others from its population will be my fellow travelers when I leave Earth for the Alpha Centauri system.  Destined for the surface of New London, they will be a controversial addition to the New London inhabitance of your new home.  It seems along with our own secret and precious goals, I will be guarding an equally important addition to the planet. They will first need to make a short stay at my new home, the Phycodurus 8, for non atmospheric exposure to the Anomaly, then a special transport will convey them the final leg of the journey. I only wish I could also join them, but that task is for someone else. My responsibility will be first to our research on the station.  The thought of being so near on my arrival and not being able to hold you in my arm is maddening.

This experience has given a lift to my spirits, a reminder that I will be able to continue our adventure soon.  Starting once again on the path I should have already started.

Love always,




Letters from Oxford – Letter 9

Dearest Victoria,

How difficult this letter is to write.  So many things to convey before our contact is broken for the coming years.  It will feel similar to corresponding with a ghost for the next year.  Sending out words without any hope of a response.

I have received your final rendition of the Anomaly and the figures from your last weeks aboard the passenger liner Derringer 8.  The information will indeed be helpful in finalizing my work on Earth during this year of recovery.  I have placed your final depiction of our research subject in full view within my temporary lab. This allows me to look up from my work and view it whenever there is a need. Whether to remind me of you or to inspire some new inspirational idea, it will be a constant reminder for our common goal.  Since my muse is now millions of kilometer from me, I will have to use the Anomaly as a substitute.  Of course when I refer to my muse that is you dear sister, although the Phenomenon is the focus of our research.  Indeed you see my attitude toward our subject is shifting. I refer more and more to a sentient being when describing our Black Swan in space. The idea of a purpose behind this oddity creeps into my thoughts and is taking over as the dominant force when thinking of its nature.

Your reaction to the stasis treatments is a little disturbing.  Your new friend’s response is understandable given the fact that he is optically enhanced, but the tremor in your hand is sending alarm bells to my neurological radar.  It is not a good idea to relay this concern at this delicate time as you are well into the treatments, but it does worry me. When I arrive at the end of my journey, the first focus will be on the changes to your brain scans.  The ones taken in the last week before your departure and the follow up scans completed at the new lab and subsequently on New London. I meant for these comparisons to be exclusively for the changes induced by the proximity to the Anomaly, but I will also use them to verify nothing occurred to your neurological footprint during the Gambol and stasis process. I realize it is not the ideal scientific process with different variables affecting the outcome, but there is no way to separate these two catalysts for analyses.  

After hearing your concerns about Nikolas, I am happy I chose for full regeneration of my arm and not an enhanced prosthetic.  Mechanical replacement would have shortened my recovery, but the complications were a greater risk.  This is especially prevalent with my eminent departure for the Alpha Centauri system on the horizon.  Six additional months delay is not much to ask in order to feel whole at the end.  I see now the extra time I have to finalize my preparations here slightly make up for my separation from you.

My thoughts travel to the end of our journey and where we will both be in three years’ time.  Your will have been a Neo Britannian for over a year by then, creating incredible pieces of interactive media and I will just be starting my work at the new lab on the Phycodurus 8. Completely immersed in a years worthof accumulated data on the Anomaly and multitudes of letters from you.  I can just picture myself sitting in the observation lounge with a mug of coffee finally in hand, starring out at the incredible sight of the Cosmic enigma hanging in the blackness of space.  I will hold on to this vision over this next year of isolation.  Knowing that at the end we will once again be together.

My Love always,


Letters from Oxford – Letter 8

Greeting traveler,

You are nearing the time of your deep sleep and I want to relate an ancient story from our past. A subtle reminder of a sacred promise made between two sisters in the dark forests of England.  Think back to the secret ceremony performed between two naïve souls, swearing fealty to each other and their envisioned dreams. Even though these dreams and aspirations were emerging from the minds of children, they remain relevant to this day.

We sat face to face under an ancient oak, our small forms cradled in the twisted roots emanating from its hoary trunk. We joined hands, gazing up to the stars, the seven sisters framed by the branches above.  We spoke the words to the eighth sister, knowing that although she was obscured, her presence and influence was felt. Invoking the power of the star, we promised to be ever fateful to our quest.  A quest for knowledge and creative endeavors that would better the world with the combination of art and science.  Giving strength to our minds to enhance our ability for discovery and inspiration.  We closed the ceremony with a sharing of gifts. Each of us forfeiting our most cherished possession to the other.

I sit here now, cradling the tiny frog you gave me on that epic day.  Its stone form now almost worn smooth from the constant handling over the years.  It has become my charm in times of stress and deep thought over the years since it was received. I hope my Ebby has done the same for you.  A strange companion for a child, a raven, but it was precious to me at the time. It seemed an enormous sacrifice to give him to you at the time and even though we never again spoke of these treasures, the comfort this sharing has given me is more than I ever imagined.

Obviously you are constantly in the forefront of my thoughts and this has become a bit problematic. During my lecture yesterday, I was staring across the auditorium at the far wall attempting to focus on a question from one of my students. Above the door leading out of the hall, there hung an enormous piece of art done by a previous scholar. It depicted the periodic table of elements done in the style of the Ionic monks of the ninth century or possible the Hiberno-saxon style.  My thoughts went immediately to you and your travels.  What amazing things will you discover on New London? Will you uncover some unknown material for our work?  Will we be adding new elements to this piece of tapestry?  Amazing components that will contribute properties to our final production.  Properties that cannot as yet be envisioned.

These and a thousand other questions sped through my mind as I stood mesmerized by the hanging.  I do not know how long I stood in this condition before I realized that everyone was dead silent in the audience.  Two hundred eyes staring at my entranced form standing on the podium.  I pulled myself back into the room, making the trip from New London to Earth in a matter of seconds. I slowly gave the anticipating faces an embarrassed smile and continued with my lecture from before the question was asked.  I still do not recall what question was asked, but I am sure it will return to haunt me.  The audience was so hushed in anticipation of my answer, it must have been something immensely controversial.  I guess I will need to review the lecture recordings as a precaution.

Well I hope this letter comforts you as much as it has me by writing it.  I was temporarily transported back to our childhood to a simpler time and a time when my body was whole.

Love Always,


Blog at

Up ↑