Today was supposed to be fun. In the morning we had cooking lessons, complete with a noontime feast on the delicacies we helped to prepare, such as they were. Some were good, although overall there was an odd flavor profile. Unfortunately it appeared that most of the ingredients were either not available in my region, or would require many hours to gather. I could probably manage the braised frillstalks although perhaps without so much garnish, but other than that it looks like I'm stuck with boiled tangroot.
It went downhill from there. Talks on process were organized more like a roundtable, and the support crew began with a plea for everyone to economize. I guess core production wasn't ramping up quite as predicted, but not in a dangerous way. Well inside the red line.
The discussion had mostly turned away from conservation, so at an opportune moment I made my case for a third fuel cell, and the room collapsed on me. Predictably Bea turned rather bitterly ad-hominem, as much as suggesting that I was somewhere between selfish and traitorous. But instead of objecting to the rhetoric, everyone else piled on. Even Foel started going on (like he always does) about the power requirements of the two-person hab. and that clinched it. If a two person hab can get by on three fuel cells, then a one-person hab obviously only needs two.
Maija had been listening quietly, but now delivered her final verdict. "You've done well so far," she opined, "you should be fine."
And that was it. In one autocratic, arbitrary and evidence-free decision, our PI had denied me the chance to do the science properly. My power graphs, my fuel cell model, nothing at this point was relevant.
The world seemed very distant the rest of the day, as if anywhere I sat was several meters from where I actually was. I ran it over and over in my mind, trying to find where things had gone wrong. I didn't know whether to feel despair or anger, so I felt nothing.
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