Personal Journal Entry, Dr. Jade Jen5 March 2038Location: AL-U #7
"I miss tanning. That's right. Tanning. Not freedom. Not beaches. Not margaritas. Not sleeping past 0500. Tanning.
I am essentially a cave lizard now, a highly educated salamander with a medical license. The real sun is something I experience only during the occasional MP (Moral Pass). I've earned exactly two of them so far, each lasting a glorious sixty minutes. CiC keeps promising more, but there are reports of thermal-detecting GAI drones operating in the next province and nobody wants to become a cautionary briefing slide.
Most of our facilities are buried underground. Some are engineering marvels. Others look like they were built by indigenous armed by villages, in fact they were. Both types work but the downside is that almost nobody sees the sky. We live down here day by day.
The vitamin D lamps in quarters do their job. According to Medical they're perfectly calibrated. According to my mirror, however, I now resemble a Victorian child who just recovered from consumption. If I powdered my face and stood very still, somebody would probably try to hang me in a museum next to a marble statue. A few crew members have actually complimented the look. Apparently there are people who find "subterranean crypt keeper chic" attractive. Good for them.
But every time I catch my reflection, I don't see pale skin. I see restrictions. That's why tanning became my thing. During surgical residency my life was consumed by twelve-hour shifts, endless studying, and enough caffeine to qualify as a controlled substance. So naturally I rebelled. Not with drug or bad boys (no time no how) or drinking but with…tanning…with a tanning booth.Was it real sunlight? No. Did it make any sense? Also no.
But for 60 minutes at a time I could pretend I'd just returned from Aruba with some ridiculously handsome boyfriend whose only responsibilities involved looking good in vacation photos and ordering tropical drinks with tiny umbrellas in them. The tan wasn’t really the point, it was the mark of freedom and the secret little fantasy it held for me. For a little while it gave me room to breathe. Room to dream. Room to remember there was a person underneath the scrubs.
On rare occasions I do score a sun session, under the required camo netting. I will take what I can get. There's alaways a GAIT or two nearby doing maitnenance. But I know they're really there protecting me. Though it's not Aruba, I'll take what I can get. Only one person at a time btw is allowed topside.
If you're reading this, you're probably thinking, "Wow. The flight surgeon is shallower than a puddle.” Trust me, I've had the same thought. But this isn't really vanity. Sure, I like how I look with a little color. Runway here I come. But when I used to see tan Jade in the mirror, I saw someone steering her own life. That's what I miss.
Don't misunderstand me. I am incredibly fortunate to be here. Even now I occasionally wake up and think: Really? Me? I've worked hard every single day, committed to shedding self doubt. I've seen things most people my age never will.
And that they sought me out, that I passed the vetting, that they want me in this key position is mind blowing to me. It still feels impossible. This assignment is the greatest privilege of my life and every shift I work as hard as I can to prove they made the right choice.
I feel needed here and I love that feeling. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Well maybe Aruba ha ha and that’s my final offer. I'll happily keep the complexion of a refrigerated mushroom if that's the price.
If you haven't read my previous entries, I've been selected as one of the Doctors in ESI, one of 3 Stella-3 assigned Flight Surgeons. Because of that, this journal is one of the few places where I'm allowed to indulge a little harmless frivolity.
Dad would have laughed at that. "Lock it in," he'd always tell me. "Think how you'll be and you'll be how you think.” I still hear him every time I badge up. I know he'd be proud of me and probably shocked too. The fact that I volunteered for a one-way trip would have given him at least three consecutive heart attacks.
When I was little he'd sit me on his knee and comb my hair while singing ridiculous songs. My favorite was "Jade Got It Made," a song so objectively terrible that I can still remember every word. He called me his little princess, his “pride side” and then later he’d quip “my little ambulance chaser.” How he held everything together after Mom left, I'll never understand.And where would I have ended up if she'd won custody? Honestly, that's a terrifying thought.
Dad never wanted me to become a doctor. Eventually he came around, though. He helped however he could, supported me financially when he was able, and remained my loudest cheerleader and most relentless critic. Those memories are difficult now. I keep them tucked away because thinking about his death for too long still hurts.
EarthGov raiders kicked in his door and killed him. The media called him a rebel. A non-compliant citizen. A dangerous man resisting lawful authority. They said he fired first but I know better. The truth is they targeted him because he refused to comply. Like many others, he was selected to become an example. The overt team assault wasn't necessary. I learned about his death at the end of an especially brutal surgical shift. A fitting ending to a day I will never forget.
Oddly enough, it wasn't Dad's arguments that changed me as I’d spent years resisting what he told me. Years insisting he was wrong, years believing the world was basically fair. His death changed that. It's funny how different I am now from the daughter he knew.
Most people would probably describe me as cheerful. I laugh often enough. I joke around. I function. But underneath all that is a resentment I rarely discuss. This world took my father. And it wasn’t some random accident, it was murder. That sticks with me. And while what I'm doing now is undeniably extreme, a one-way trip into the unknown, never to return, I feel something I haven't felt in years: certainty.
I know I’m where I need to be. In the end it’s a strange bargain I've made with the universe. It took something valuable from me but it’s giving me this in return. Maybe that's why I miss tanning so much. It was never about looking better. It was about choosing something for myself. And I’ve chosen this, one of the most important things I could do with my life (motherhood anyone?). I have a mission here and they call me “Doctor.” and look to me for important answers. That feels good. That doesn’t replace the loss I’ve had (or give me a tan!) but from above I know Dad approves."