Database: Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories) - Revision history

Soranin at 01:47, 17 June 2026

2026-06-17T01:47:33Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 03:47, 17 June 2026
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	Yours, as always,		Yours, as always,

			Cay
	[[Category:Animus EGO database entries]]		[[Category:Animus EGO database entries]]
	[[Category:Database: Vault]]		[[Category:Database: Vault]]
	{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}~~Cay~~		{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}

Darman36 at 01:43, 17 June 2026

2026-06-17T01:43:58Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 03:43, 17 June 2026
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	Yours, as always,		Yours, as always,

	~~Cay~~
	[[Category:Animus EGO database entries]]		[[Category:Animus EGO database entries]]
	[[Category:Database: Vault]]		[[Category:Database: Vault]]
	{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}		{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}Cay
	~~<!--[zh:数据库：奥蒂斯致他妻子的信（回忆）]-->~~

Soranin: Text replacement - "\[\[zh:(.+)\]\]" to ""

2026-05-13T13:45:35Z

Text replacement - "\[\[zh:(.+)\]\]" to ""

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:45, 13 May 2026
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	[[Category:Database: Vault]]		[[Category:Database: Vault]]
	{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}		{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}
	[[zh:数据库：奥蒂斯致他妻子的信（回忆）]]		<!--[zh:数据库：奥蒂斯致他妻子的信（回忆）]-->

imported>Darman36 at 05:25, 18 December 2025

2025-12-18T05:25:52Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 07:25, 18 December 2025
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	I do not have the words to express how much you are missed. Without you, I've been making mistake after mistake. I'm lost without you.		I do not have the words to express how much you are missed. Without you, I've been making mistake after mistake. I'm lost without you.

	In an effort to keep you close, I began a tradition with my [[Junko Maeda\|colleague]]. We were to engage in meditation, albeit a very specific brand given our surroundings. It was an attempt to recall our own morning ritual. I thought it would calm my colleague who, lately, has been so distressed.		In an effort to keep you close, I began a tradition with my [[Junko Maeda\|colleague]]. We were to engage in meditation, albeit a very specific brand given our [[Abstergo Industries Hallen's Bluff facility\|surroundings]]. It was an attempt to recall our own morning ritual. I thought it would calm my colleague who, lately, has been so distressed.

	I'd only planned for us to spend ten minutes living inside of a cherished memory, so that we might start our day on the right foot, but I could not see ten feet in front of me. I did not know that this dream would turn into a nightmare. I fear my attempts at keeping all of us safe—you, my colleague, the ~~kids—has~~ only served to further imperil us all. The guilt I feel now is without measure. I don't know what to do.		I'd only planned for us to spend ten minutes living inside of a cherished memory, so that we might start our day on the right foot, but I could not see ten feet in front of me. I did not know that this dream would turn into a nightmare. I fear my attempts at keeping all of us safe—you, my colleague, [[Javier Ortiz\|the]] [[Rodrigo Ortiz\|kids]]—has only served to further imperil us all. The guilt I feel now is without measure. I don't know what to do.

	I've spent much of my time thinking about [[Genetic memory\|memories]], the nature of them, their malleability, their poignancy. They can hold horrible episodes (I'm thinking in particular of that one time we decided we would try our hands at cooking for the dinner party we were hosting; what a mess!), but those memories, Sunita, they are salvational.		I've spent much of my time thinking about [[Genetic memory\|memories]], the nature of them, their malleability, their poignancy. They can hold horrible episodes (I'm thinking in particular of that one time we decided we would try our hands at cooking for the dinner party we were hosting; what a mess!), but those memories, Sunita, they are salvational.

imported>Soranin at 13:01, 31 October 2025

2025-10-31T13:01:32Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:01, 31 October 2025
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	~~{{Spoilerhd\|29 October 2025\|[[Animus Hub]]}}~~
	[[File:Animus Hub DB Image 5.png\|thumb\|200px]]		[[File:Animus Hub DB Image 5.png\|thumb\|200px]]
	-- TRANSCRIPT OF COMMUNICATION PENDING APPROVAL		-- TRANSCRIPT OF COMMUNICATION PENDING APPROVAL

imported>Soranin at 15:33, 12 October 2025

2025-10-12T15:33:30Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:33, 12 October 2025
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	{{Spoilerhd\|29 October 2025\|[[Animus Hub]]}}		{{Spoilerhd\|29 October 2025\|[[Animus Hub]]}}
			[[File:Animus Hub DB Image 5.png\|thumb\|200px]]
	-- TRANSCRIPT OF COMMUNICATION PENDING APPROVAL		-- TRANSCRIPT OF COMMUNICATION PENDING APPROVAL

imported>MikonoshinobiCE at 05:35, 13 August 2025

2025-08-13T05:35:06Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 07:35, 13 August 2025
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	[[Category:Database: Vault]]		[[Category:Database: Vault]]
	{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}		{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}
			[[zh:数据库：奥蒂斯致他妻子的信（回忆）]]

imported>Darman36 at 03:57, 13 August 2025

2025-08-13T03:57:49Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 05:57, 13 August 2025
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	In an effort to keep you close, I began a tradition with my [[Junko Maeda\|colleague]]. We were to engage in meditation, albeit a very specific brand given our surroundings. It was an attempt to recall our own morning ritual. I thought it would calm my colleague who, lately, has been so distressed.		In an effort to keep you close, I began a tradition with my [[Junko Maeda\|colleague]]. We were to engage in meditation, albeit a very specific brand given our surroundings. It was an attempt to recall our own morning ritual. I thought it would calm my colleague who, lately, has been so distressed.

	I'd only planned for us to spend ten minutes living inside of a cherished memory, so that we might start our day on the right foot, but I could not see ten feet in front of me. I did not know that this dream would turn into a nightmare. I fear my attempts at keeping all of us ~~safe - you~~, my colleague, the ~~kids - has~~ only served to further imperil us all. The guilt I feel now is without measure. I don't know what to do.		I'd only planned for us to spend ten minutes living inside of a cherished memory, so that we might start our day on the right foot, but I could not see ten feet in front of me. I did not know that this dream would turn into a nightmare. I fear my attempts at keeping all of us safe—you, my colleague, the kids—has only served to further imperil us all. The guilt I feel now is without measure. I don't know what to do.

	I've spent much of my time thinking about memories, the nature of them, their malleability, their poignancy. They can hold horrible episodes (I'm thinking in particular of that one time we decided we would try our hands at cooking for the dinner party we were hosting; what a mess!), but those memories, Sunita, they are salvational.		I've spent much of my time thinking about [[Genetic memory\|memories]], the nature of them, their malleability, their poignancy. They can hold horrible episodes (I'm thinking in particular of that one time we decided we would try our hands at cooking for the dinner party we were hosting; what a mess!), but those memories, Sunita, they are salvational.

	I keep returning to that moment, ~~stading~~ outside the hall, while your dissertation defense was happening, ~~uunable~~ to see or hear anything. I swear, they had made those walls soundproof. And oh how I was pacing! I must have chewed through all my fingernails twice. I remember the color of the jacket I was wearing. I remember the scuff of my loafers against the tiled floor. I remember the portraits of the esteemed provosts hanging overhead, staring imperiously down on me as I worried and worried and worried for you.		I keep returning to that moment, standing outside the hall, while your dissertation defense was happening, unable to see or hear anything. I swear, they had made those walls soundproof. And oh how I was pacing! I must have chewed through all my fingernails twice. I remember the color of the jacket I was wearing. I remember the scuff of my loafers against the tiled floor. I remember the portraits of the esteemed provosts hanging overhead, staring imperiously down on me as I worried and worried and worried for you.

	And then there is the moment when you emerge. The door had opened so softly that I did not hear it. I was snapped out of my fantod by the sound of clapping and there you were in the doorway, applause at your back, smiling as if you had just stepped out of the most refreshing ~~showe~~, not a care in the world, gently itching your temple, your beautiful hair bunched around your fingers.		And then there is the moment when you emerge. The door had opened so softly that I did not hear it. I was snapped out of my [[wikt:fantod\|fantod]] by the sound of clapping and there you were in the doorway, applause at your back, smiling as if you had just stepped out of the most refreshing shower, not a care in the world, gently itching your temple, your beautiful hair bunched around your fingers.

	I know you will tell me it all happened differently. You were nervous, though you did not look it. You itched your scalp with your left hand, not your right. And there was no glow; in fact, you were freezing. But I like my version. Which do you think a machine might preserve? Give it all the information necessary, the time and place, the temperature of the rooms, the names of the people present, and what would it reconstruct? I cannot say much (if anything) of [[Project Mnemosyne\|what]] we are working on here, but perhaps, by the end, I will have an answer to the question, "what is truth." Forgive my hubris. (A habit I have not yet shaken.)		I know you will tell me it all happened differently. You were nervous, though you did not look it. You itched your scalp with your left hand, not your right. And there was no glow; in fact, you were freezing. But I like my version. Which do you think a [[Ego\|machine]] might preserve? Give it all the information necessary, the time and place, the temperature of the rooms, the names of the people present, and what would it reconstruct? I cannot say much (if anything) of [[Project Mnemosyne\|what]] we are working on here, but perhaps, by the end, I will have an answer to the question, "what is truth." Forgive my hubris. (A habit I have not yet shaken.)

	I cannot wait until the day we have finished this wondrous, infernal work and I am returned to you. Please give the children my love. And pray that I do right by my ~~collegue~~.		I cannot wait until the day we have finished this wondrous, infernal work and I am returned to you. Please give the children my love. And pray that I do right by my colleague.


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	Cay		Cay

	[[Category:Animus EGO database entries]]		[[Category:Animus EGO database entries]]
	[[Category:Database: Vault]]		[[Category:Database: Vault]]
	{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}		{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}

imported>Soranin: Created page with "{{Spoilerhd|29 October 2025|Animus Hub}} -- TRANSCRIPT OF COMMUNICATION PENDING APPROVAL -- SUBJECT CAYETANO ORTIZ EMP. No. 09/324 -- REQUEST REVIEW Dearest Sunita, I do not have the words to express how much you are missed. Without you, I've been making mistake after mistake. I'm lost without you. In an effort to keep you close, I began a tradition with my colleague. We were to engage in meditation, albeit a v..."

2025-08-11T15:07:21Z

Created page with "{{Spoilerhd|29 October 2025|Animus Hub}} -- TRANSCRIPT OF COMMUNICATION PENDING APPROVAL -- SUBJECT CAYETANO ORTIZ EMP. No. 09/324 -- REQUEST REVIEW Dearest Sunita, I do not have the words to express how much you are missed. Without you, I've been making mistake after mistake. I'm lost without you. In an effort to keep you close, I began a tradition with my colleague. We were to engage in meditation, albeit a v..."

Páàjì titun

{{Spoilerhd|29 October 2025|[[Animus Hub]]}}
-- TRANSCRIPT OF COMMUNICATION PENDING APPROVAL

-- SUBJECT [[Cayetano Ortiz|CAYETANO ORTIZ]] EMP. No. 09/324

-- REQUEST REVIEW

Dearest [[Sunita Ortiz|Sunita]],

I do not have the words to express how much you are missed. Without you, I've been making mistake after mistake. I'm lost without you.

In an effort to keep you close, I began a tradition with my [[Junko Maeda|colleague]]. We were to engage in meditation, albeit a very specific brand given our surroundings. It was an attempt to recall our own morning ritual. I thought it would calm my colleague who, lately, has been so distressed.

I'd only planned for us to spend ten minutes living inside of a cherished memory, so that we might start our day on the right foot, but I could not see ten feet in front of me. I did not know that this dream would turn into a nightmare. I fear my attempts at keeping all of us safe - you, my colleague, the kids - has only served to further imperil us all. The guilt I feel now is without measure. I don't know what to do.

I've spent much of my time thinking about memories, the nature of them, their malleability, their poignancy. They can hold horrible episodes (I'm thinking in particular of that one time we decided we would try our hands at cooking for the dinner party we were hosting; what a mess!), but those memories, Sunita, they are salvational.

I keep returning to that moment, stading outside the hall, while your dissertation defense was happening, uunable to see or hear anything. I swear, they had made those walls soundproof. And oh how I was pacing! I must have chewed through all my fingernails twice. I remember the color of the jacket I was wearing. I remember the scuff of my loafers against the tiled floor. I remember the portraits of the esteemed provosts hanging overhead, staring imperiously down on me as I worried and worried and worried for you.

And then there is the moment when you emerge. The door had opened so softly that I did not hear it. I was snapped out of my fantod by the sound of clapping and there you were in the doorway, applause at your back, smiling as if you had just stepped out of the most refreshing showe, not a care in the world, gently itching your temple, your beautiful hair bunched around your fingers.

I know you will tell me it all happened differently. You were nervous, though you did not look it. You itched your scalp with your left hand, not your right. And there was no glow; in fact, you were freezing. But I like my version. Which do you think a machine might preserve? Give it all the information necessary, the time and place, the temperature of the rooms, the names of the people present, and what would it reconstruct? I cannot say much (if anything) of [[Project Mnemosyne|what]] we are working on here, but perhaps, by the end, I will have an answer to the question, "what is truth." Forgive my hubris. (A habit I have not yet shaken.)

I cannot wait until the day we have finished this wondrous, infernal work and I am returned to you. Please give the children my love. And pray that I do right by my collegue.

Yours, as always,

Cay

[[Category:Animus EGO database entries]]
[[Category:Database: Vault]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Letter from Ortiz to his Wife (Memories)}}