Paul is deep into artistic creations with our son. Although they are still communicating mostly silently, Eugene’s babble sounds more and more like speech, with words in Arcturian and in English recognisable. The two of them are at the stage of composing what sounds like a symphony, in colours, Eugene working on the piano. In the meantime I am busy with planning our Earth holiday, with Inga’s enthusiastic assistance, now we agreed she’d come with us.

We had a visit from the Arcturian lady who’s my country’s ambassador for this sector of the galaxy. She’s a historian from my alma mater and has written several books on the galactic civilization and its evolution. Eugene was delighted to meet her and made a speech, which, to her credit, she followed with equal enthusiasm. Paul spoke psychohistory with her, she gave him the latest translation of one of her books, in Russian. I suspect she’s a high ranking member of our governing elite. She wished us a good holiday and asked me to keep her updated on Eugene’s progress.

The Spring season under our dome has moved to warmth and lush vegetation. Inga and I spend more time together while Paul and Eugene work on the symphony. In the interval I am reading Dostoevsky.