And so begins the grind, a day ahead of the work week. We expect more overtime. Frustrating revisions may pop out unexpected, and maybe even a dress down from the director if we royally fuck-up this side project. We try not to be eaten alive by the pressure, but we can't help it. Time is of the essence.
We will open the week, with the project three days behind schedule. And out of our desire to make a sub-light leap and seal that gap, we will move mountains to complete the tasks.
Given our penchant to make things possible in a unilateral fashion, we won't ask for help. We will try to deflect the pressure away from the escorts. In return, we will expect the unwavering compliance of everyone.
We confess that we're never used to long hours of work. And in paving a trail for others to follow. But with our untried skills, and resolve to respond to urgency, we will sink into the unknown with a lantern to light the abyss.
When this is all over. When the holy enterprise has been won, we will retire into our tiny corner knowing we have done things beyond our duty.
And when the Patroness returns from her oceanside journey, we will once again send the emissaries: to seek new realms to settle, and perhaps reign over.
We go into the depths, knowing too well that we are approaching the climax. Because within the wordless chambers of our being, we read:
The pages of this life's chapter is coming to an end.