Post
by cats » Sun May 21, 2017 9:49 pm
Name: Michael Harold Stein
Short Description: Mike, or Harold, or (preferably) Dr. Stein, is a tall man of 34 with a sharp, angular face, greying brown hair, and the physique of an elongated, malnourished skeleton.
Role Aboard Ship: Medical Doctor, Researcher
Personality: Dr. Stein won praises for his bedside manner in med school, but that's just because he's a good actor. He feels bad that he's a good actor. He'd prefer genuine emotions, but you learn to block those out, at some point. He wonders when he learned to do that.
Skills: Medicine, statistics, lab procedure, psychiatry, chemistry, pharmacology
Flaws: He's sensitive about his flaws.
Short Bio: Michael H. Stein graduated with honors from the European University, and went on to obtain several additional undergraduate degrees, two doctorates and one masters in various scientific and medical fields. He went on to achieve great things in the world of medicine. Unfortunately, such great minds are often the most delicate. Below is a selection of voice transcripts which I have recorded and believe represent the mental condition of Dr. Michael H. Stein over several years.
[SENT] It's getting me up every four months now, and I stay up for as long as possible. I only need to be awake long enough to tend the plants, but I wish I could be up longer. They're really growing! And Sam is too! I can't wait to meet her in person
[SENT] I heard Mom's not doing so well. I'll be sure to shoot her plenty of messages. I've seen this kind of thing before. Sometimes, it works itself out, but make sure everyone's prepared.
[DISCARDED] Mom and Sam. I don't... I wake up and... I should have been there. I should be there now with you and Jaq and Dad. . .
[DISCARDED] Jaq, I guess we're both on our own now. I didn't think she could ever do something like this. She was strong, but... God, I don't fucking know what to say. It's my fault, you know. Not yours. I need you to know that. You're still family, Jaq. To me, and to Spencer, too. And... Uh. What was I saying? I should...
[DISCARDED] This might be the last time I send... I'm not going back in there. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. [break] Hey, Dad. My judgement's been failing me recently. The meds help sometimes, at least for long enough to do my work. I'll be okay. It really means a lot, what you said. I'll be okay, and I know it's hard for you too, but we'll get through all this. . .
[DISCARDED] Hey Dad! I'm pretty sure it's after me, but that's okay. I had to be fine with dying on this fucking thing anyway. Sorry, excuse the language, I've been on edge lately. . . [break] I'm hiding. [break] [sobbing] I'm not going back in there. I'm not. I can't. I can't. I can't . . .
[SENT] Hey, Dad. Looks like I found some pills that work, finally get a fucking lucid moment. Only thing is it lowers my inhibitions. I'm sure I can find something to counter that, too, I'll have to if that Indian * doesn't want me grabbing at her *. Hah. Oh, heard you found yourself another girl! You know, about Mom, I. . .
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from a completely ad-hoc plot device"
— David Langford