Let's do this. I mean, you guys need a token female, right?
I'll intro with writing sample, I guess:
Lilah was convinced there was a place in the world for everyone. Not one hundred feet away, above her head and at an angle, bored schoolkids were hobnobbing in her library, talking and snacking and gathering in comfortable social clumps. Pleasant, she was sure, to the people that were involved, but whenever she tried it she seemed unsuited to the task of socialization. She didn't understand why people were so interested in the things they were interested; no one got her references, or cared for the things she cared about. So while any sample specimen would find her current position intolerable, she loved it. The quiet was soothing, and the solitude comfortable. Even the damp underground coolness was pleasing. The old reference newspapers had a smell about them, like elapsed age, and every hour she found some bit of ignored history that made her mind wealthier for the knowledge. Even her job, the precise and repetitive digital recording of important articles, headlines, dates - it was painstaking and required absolute accuracy. It gave her zen. This was where she'd spend her youth.
She adjusted her glasses and bent to her task. Casually, the clock hit five, signaling the end of the first of her usual daily overtime hours. She had no idea what she'd do with the extra money, but home was so similar to this place, such a snug safe spot tucked away from everyone, that the two may as well be interchangeable.
After all, every day little pieces of the world filtered down here. She had exactly what she needed, and needed nothing more.
I'll intro with writing sample, I guess:
Lilah was convinced there was a place in the world for everyone. Not one hundred feet away, above her head and at an angle, bored schoolkids were hobnobbing in her library, talking and snacking and gathering in comfortable social clumps. Pleasant, she was sure, to the people that were involved, but whenever she tried it she seemed unsuited to the task of socialization. She didn't understand why people were so interested in the things they were interested; no one got her references, or cared for the things she cared about. So while any sample specimen would find her current position intolerable, she loved it. The quiet was soothing, and the solitude comfortable. Even the damp underground coolness was pleasing. The old reference newspapers had a smell about them, like elapsed age, and every hour she found some bit of ignored history that made her mind wealthier for the knowledge. Even her job, the precise and repetitive digital recording of important articles, headlines, dates - it was painstaking and required absolute accuracy. It gave her zen. This was where she'd spend her youth.
She adjusted her glasses and bent to her task. Casually, the clock hit five, signaling the end of the first of her usual daily overtime hours. She had no idea what she'd do with the extra money, but home was so similar to this place, such a snug safe spot tucked away from everyone, that the two may as well be interchangeable.
After all, every day little pieces of the world filtered down here. She had exactly what she needed, and needed nothing more.
