Muttering to herself, Lucy-S steps into the small, ornate booth and pulls the door shut behind her. Someone has scrawled slogans such as "EDB saves (in case it gets hungry later)" and "Jet-Poop gives good node" in permanent marker across the wall. A dim yellow light on the other side of the wooden screen comes on; she can't tell if it's Klaproth in there or not. She nervously scratches the backs of her hands.
Lucy-S: Forgive me, E2 bot, for I have daylogged.
E2 Bot: And how long has it been since your last daylog, my child?
Lucy-S: It feels like months. But it's probably only been a week or two.
E2 Bot: What is on your mind, my child?
Lucy-S: If I'd gotten knocked up the day I got laid off, I'd be going into labor today.
E2 Bot: Nine months of unemployment? Others have been jobless longer. Fret not.
Lucy-S: How is others' misery supposed to make me feel better?
E2 Bot: (pauses) Have you had no interviews?
Lucy-S: I've had seven so far. And I have one today, and one on Monday; both are for graphics monkey jobs. Today's is for a freelance job at a pipe fittings company that needs a horked PDF catalog redone. Could turn into a regular gig, but I'm not holding my breath.
E2 Bot: Well, surely that should give you hope?
Lucy-S: (laughs bitterly) I've been turned down for work I was perfectly qualified for and could do very, very well. I am not a trained graphic designer. My chances are mediocre at best. (scratches hands) And I suddenly became allergic to my favorite lotion last night, and now both my hands are covered in this goddamn rash! I look like a freakin' plague victim on the day of an interview!
E2 Bot: Thou art whining.
Lucy-S: I ITCH!
E2 Bot: (pauses) But surely thine life has not been all bad?
Lucy-S: Well, no. We got a new kitten! Well, Braunbeck did.
E2 Bot: Tell me about this ... kitten.
Lucy-S: Well, he showed up in our back yard, crying. He kept coming to the glass patio door to peer inside, but would run away when any of us went out there. He was so little, and it was getting so cold outside. At first we gave him some food, and he ate more than seemed possible. Then I fixed him a cardboard box with some towel rags, but Braunbeck said we should put him in the cage in the basement because it was going to drop to 15 degrees in the night. I'd made a cage this past summer so we could put the other cats out in the back yard to sun themselves. It took us forever to catch him, though --
E2 Bot: (sounding very interested) Is the kitten sweet?
Lucy-S: Oh, yes, he's a real sweetie! He's just four months old, and got a good bill of health from the vet. He won't stop purring! The vet was trying to listen to his heart and lungs, and the kitten purrs anytime you're holding him, so the vet was standing there hissing at the kitten to try to get him to quit --
E2 Bot: Is the kitten tender?
Lucy-S: Tender? Like as in, soft? Well, he's a kitten, so of course he's very, very soft --
She hears the rumbling growl of a large, hungry stomach coming from the other side of the confessional.
Lucy-S: K-klaproth? You feeling okay? I've got some Tums --
E2 Bot: Me not Klaproth.
Lucy-S: Oh shit. (frantically tries door; someone has blocked it from outside) Help! HELP!
E2 Bot: They not hear you in here. Moist noder flesh good.
Lucy-S: I-I'm an editor, damn you! You can't do this ... aaaaaargh!
A damp ripping noise echoes through the E2 Daylog Chapel. Then there is a crunching, a slurping. Then silence.
EDB has swallowed Lucy-S's angst. Angst is good food!