Personal Log—Star Date 2025.1201

Most folks who know me endure my many ‘Trek and ‘Wars references. And yes, I often must explain the reference with a bit of consternation. I believe that they find that science fiction challenges too many of their beliefs about humanity. Yes, we have the potential to explore space, and yes, we bring a lot of baggage with us. But who doesn’t look to the future for guidance already? I don’t know. Maybe I am asking for too much.

I wonder if anyone really gets me. If ever given a chance to read my journals, will they think me too fluky or weird? Will they question everything they thought they knew about me?

I guess these questions stem from one incident. I met a girl. Smile.

It felt like that first encounter between Luke and Leia. Even though Leia was locked up, Luke seemed to intrude into her space unannounced. I always loved the calm and composed demeanor she exhibited, questioning his imposition. I felt that way when I entered my office and saw a woman studying my notes that were displayed on the electronic whiteboard.

She turned to me as if I had encroached upon her space and said in the now immortal words, “Aren’t you a little short for a Storm Trooper?”

And my classic response came naturally, “Huh, oh, no, I’m Luke.” And yes, my name is actually Luke. Though I did not grow up on Tatooine, travel in the Millennian Falcon to the Death Star, I felt that the young blond adventurer and I were kindred in our first encounters with the women who had the ability to render us stupid.

She laughed at my fumble and walked over to me, extending her hand. “I know who you are, Luke Atkins.” Her 5’9” frame stood a foot taller than mine, and she filled it out nicely. She was fit, and I became self-conscious of my laps in an exercise routine that had served me well. Mental note, get your butt back in the gym. Of course, the gym was downstairs in my house. Shaking my head—no excuse, man, no excuse.

Distracted by my own thoughts, I stood there like an awkward teenager meeting a girl who was way out of my league. She laughed again, a rich alto that sang up and down my spine. “They told me you were quick on your feet. Hmm.” Her sassy tone pushed me into action. I had a rep to uphold, so I stuck out my hand, and she took it, her deep tawny skin tone almost matched mine, save the shone from the care she had given hers. I locked gaze with her brown eyes that sparkled with mirth. Before shaking my hand, she said, “My name is Danielle Winters.”

I don’t know how the cosmos got that wrong. This woman was summer all over.

Personal Log—Star Date 2025.1205

The last few days have been a blur. I try to reconcile Michael’s insistence that I accept help because I needed someone to get me back on track with my project and my growing affection for Danielle. Don’t get me wrong, she is very good at what she does. In a matter of days, she had managed to comprehend my method for organizing and had structured my notes so that they are easily accessible to me. And, believe you me, that was not easy. Especially with me lording over her terrified that she would arrange my notes in a way that would be useless to how I operate. But she didn’t see it that way and sincerely welcomed my numerous inputs.

Though Michael insisted that I have an office where he could engage with me, I work mostly in my home lab. I am no Tony Stark, but I admit my workspace was inspired by his design. The few who were privy to see it appeared awestruck and her response mirrored theirs. And yet it didn’t. Maybe more accurately, it was my observation of her response. Other people’s reactions never registered with me, for I built this space to aid me in my inventions not for aesthetic value. But her admiration made me swell with pride in its design. I impressed her, and it filled me with delight.

Personal Log—Star Date 2025.1210

I found myself wanting to know more about her personal life and was pleased that I did not have to explain to HR why I needed such information. Danielle loved to talk about her life—her goals, her aspirations. She convinced me on the second day of her job that lunch is a requirement not an option. She made me stop what I was doing, sit down, and consume the sandwich and crisps she had brought for us. It felt good to sit and chat with her—though, at first, I found myself listening more than talking.

She is not married. Actually, she has never been married and didn’t have children. Like me. In that way, we are both oddities, as many of my colleagues at 35 are working on their second or third marriages. I don’t know. I just never could see the need to just have someone in my space. I needed more than companionship and sex, having observed for others that both were fleeting and unsatisfying.

I enjoyed learning about her at our hour-long lunches. By day five, however, she had noticed that I offered very little about myself and began prodding me with questions of her own. Surprisingly, her questions didn’t feel intrusive at all, and I found myself sharing certain aspects of my life that I had not with anyone, not even family. I love my family dearly, but they just didn’t get me. So, I accepted their admiration of my accomplishments as their way of showing their love. I believed that it was the best they could do.

Personal Log—Star Date 2026.0814

I shared the first simulation of the portable water treatment system with Danielle. She watched intrigued as the system took in the lake water to clean and purify it. Slowly, the lake water that was once algae covered changed slowly until it was pristine blue.

After the simulation ended, Danielle turned to me with a wide-eyed look of wonder that stirred something within me. Why am I reacting this way? Her questions thankfully distracted me from my thoughts. She wondered would the system really work in all conditions. She asked if the system was sustainable and for how long. Of course, the answer to both questions was simply yes. I found myself expressing my deeper concerns. As I did, unease etched across her face, and I stopped mid-sentence. I have no intention of causing such an expression on her beautiful face. She insisted that I continue, so I told her that I was more concerned about how the systems would be delivered and maintained. I built a system that could be maintained by the community, not by some government agency with ulterior motives and unrealistic demands.

Her response was insightful and refreshing. Politics and inventions are strange bedfellows she had said. Their motives are often incongruent and hard to reconcile. She then smiled at me—that smile—and said that inventors are often so wrapped up in their projects that they don’t seriously consider the impact of their inventions on the hearts and minds of regular human beings. But she thought that I was different. And she liked it.

As I basked in her words, I almost missed what she said. She would help me achieve the goal for which the system was designed. I had no idea how she would reconcile the strange bedfellows, but I welcomed her to try.

Personal Log—Star Date 2026.1201

The simulations of the portable water treatment system have been a rousing success. Michael and I have explained the system and its viability to the board, and they are thrilled. Soon the system will be built and set up in McKellar Lake. That was my choice, my way of giving back to my hometown. Danielle admired my thoughtfulness. Smile.

Personal Log—Star Date 2026.1215

My thoughts were troublesome today. I know in my heart that Danielle cares about my work. And that work is moving along even better than we anticipated. But there is something else. I can feel it though I dare not ask her. Does she care about me? What if I am wrong? What if I am misreading her gracious nature? I don’t think I could lose her right now.

Personal Log—Star Date 2026.1220

It is not in my nature to delay the completion of a project, but I feel like Galen Erso, stalling the work on the Death Start just enough to give freedom fighters a chance against insurmountable odds. No, my work is not akin to the flaw he placed in the Death Star, but I believe it will have the same effect and bring hope to those who need it most. Okay, I know it will. But this feeling of foreboding will not let up.

Personal Log—Star Date 2026.1230

I flew down to oversee the installation of the system which should take about five days. Five days of missed lunches with Danielle. I had gotten used to sitting across from her and taking in her presence—her joy. But Danielle said she had already scheduled meetings with lawyers to make sure that I was able to fulfill my goals for the system. Still.

Personal Log—Star Date 2027.0130

The system has been installed and is working properly. We are all set to arrive in Memphis to check on its progress. Steady reports reveal that the lake already shows signs of impressive improvement. I had no doubts, of course. My assessment will confirm if indeed it is sustainable not only in arid situations but even in urban centers that have been neglected.

It was good to be home; I missed Memphis and my family. I was delighted when Danielle accepted my invitation to join me for the assessment. Mom and Dad, even Janice and Dean, seemed excited to meet Danielle though I had told them little about our arrangement. And she fit right into their crazy cacophony of questions and laughter. You would think that she was a part of the family and I was the visitor. I didn’t think it possible but could not ignore the tinge—alright more than tinge—of envy. I did not like feeling that way about Danielle and decided to work on getting it under control.

Personal Log—Star Date 2027.0215

Danielle is a miracle. Her cunningness and hard work with the lawyers have made my dream a reality. I will not only hold the patent for the system but also control implementation of it as well. Michael and the board were not pleased. They had not anticipated this inventor wanting more out of his invention. And to be honest, until Danielle, I had not really thought it possible. I had been willing to settle for designing the life-giving machine and leave the responsibility to someone else to make sure that it was used well. Now, with Danielle, I will have a fighting chance of ensuring that the system is also affordable and accessible to those communities that really need it.

She is magnanimous, paving the way for me to do what I once thought impossible.

Personal Log—Star Date 2027.0412

Danielle is leaving. It is hard for me to write these words, for I did not foresee her leaving. We had bonded so well, and she seemed to like me as a person. That is no small feat, mind you. I often fixate on the work I do—sometimes at the expense of my family and friends. It is a gift and a curse, but I believe that my family and maybe some friends have come to terms with it.

But this woman, Danielle, has managed to help me bridge the fixated worker in me with the person who wishes for more. She sat across from me, sipping on her Diet Coke relaying her plans after her contract ended. But all I heard was that she was leaving.

Personal Log—Star Date 2027.1201

Danielle’s contract ended two days ago, and she left. No, I let her leave. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Why didn’t I say something? What could I have said? All right, who am I kidding? I know why. My stupid fear and dread got the better of me. What if the only thing holding us together was the shared work we had done? What if my flukiness and weirdness were not compatible with her openness and empathy? Ah, the dreaded what ifs. They will be the death of me.

Speaking of death. Maybe I should take Queen Victoria’s lead and make provisions to burn my personal journals. I don’t know if my brother is as trustworthy as the queen’s daughter was. He has been known to chase a buck.

I wouldn’t want Danielle to learn of my feelings for her in some public forum. Even in death, I don’t know if I could take being rejected by her. But why should I care? I’ll be dead and out of reach of heart break.

Something to think about.

Personal Log—Star Date 2027.1202

Ugh. This is not going to work. Danielle had ruined noon for me. I can’t think about it without wishing she was here eating lunch with me and telling me something new about herself. And insisting that I tell her something new about myself. I miss her laughter. I miss her smile. I miss that mischievous look that made me nervous every time. I miss her.

I wonder what she would say if I called her tomorrow. Why not today? Why not.

THE END