008 - Introspection (for Mun enjoyment), Open Golf Invite, Private Message for Martha
[Everyone has been back on board a few days. House has not written any entries and has not spoken to anyone. He had been told that the floods, the ports were... well, intense to put it mildly. The singing flood was his first flood, but it hadn't been anything serious. This breach, the freakshow... he had been a faith healer.
A fucking faith healer.
It would be easy to blame the Admiral for the roles into which everyone had been cast for their merry little outing, and maybe it was the truth. But there was a nagging feeling that they had created themselves. That their roles in the carnival were a reflection of themselves, somehow. What light had been shone through House that created that image of him?
It bothered him, but not for the reasons one might imagine. If you knew him you'd think it was the religion of it, the God working His mysterious ways of it. But that wasn't what had bothered him, because that wasn't what had happened. It had all been an act. House the faith healer was a con artist preying on weakness. This was what House would have said if you asked him about God and faith, it was what he had said when he'd come face to face with a faith healer before. The miracles weren't real, the intimate knowledge of followers' lives were just snippets of information patched together from various sources and credited to God, and it was all a lie. God was a lie. That was what he'd thought all along.
Being proven right was sometimes worse than being wrong.]
Lunchtime Friday.
[VIDEO. House is not talking about the breach. He's just moving on.]
Thinking about taking a couple hours later on, heading up to CES for a game of golf. Any golfers out there wanna get their ass whooped?
[Private AUDIO to Martha.]
Where are you?
[It's short and to the point. It's clear in his inflection that he's annoyed and stressed out. He needs a sounding board, or just someone to sit silently with.]
A fucking faith healer.
It would be easy to blame the Admiral for the roles into which everyone had been cast for their merry little outing, and maybe it was the truth. But there was a nagging feeling that they had created themselves. That their roles in the carnival were a reflection of themselves, somehow. What light had been shone through House that created that image of him?
It bothered him, but not for the reasons one might imagine. If you knew him you'd think it was the religion of it, the God working His mysterious ways of it. But that wasn't what had bothered him, because that wasn't what had happened. It had all been an act. House the faith healer was a con artist preying on weakness. This was what House would have said if you asked him about God and faith, it was what he had said when he'd come face to face with a faith healer before. The miracles weren't real, the intimate knowledge of followers' lives were just snippets of information patched together from various sources and credited to God, and it was all a lie. God was a lie. That was what he'd thought all along.
Being proven right was sometimes worse than being wrong.]
Lunchtime Friday.
[VIDEO. House is not talking about the breach. He's just moving on.]
Thinking about taking a couple hours later on, heading up to CES for a game of golf. Any golfers out there wanna get their ass whooped?
[Private AUDIO to Martha.]
Where are you?
[It's short and to the point. It's clear in his inflection that he's annoyed and stressed out. He needs a sounding board, or just someone to sit silently with.]