Well, I've finally managed to pass the academy entrance exam. After father pulled strings for me to attempt a third time. I won't say here whether I deliberately flunked the first two attempts, or whether it was a genuine attempt. Ever since mother died, and my lovely brother departed for the academy, not to be a mech engineer as father hoped, but as a battle commander, I have become his new project. He will finally fix me, make me see the light. That someone must follow in his foot steps, must continue the family lineage, and I am the one best able to do so. I know this is true, for it is constantly repeated by the counselor which he insists I attend. We must all do our parts for the glory of the empire, and I've been afforded a unique opportunity to continue the great works of a powerful man, and that I would be a fool not to accept fathers offer, to train directly under him. To become his replacement, to become him.
I thought it would be enough, enough that I was already great at something. I'm a world class climber, marathon runner, fucking athlete. I can be bested by few, and when the empire colonizes a new planet, and sets its site on a new peak to claim, or has some chasm which needs explored, for stragglers or their treasures, I'm on the top of the short list. One of the first they contact, even if only to consult. Is that not service enough to the empire? That I can help them stake claims where few other people can reach?
It may be enough for the empire, but it is not enough for Father. He is adamant. And so I will accept it. I have to accept it, there is no other choice. If I want to stay in the family, if I want to maintain this quality of life, this fortune. I'll have to go along with it. Appease my father's ego. It's not that I don't find engineering fascinating, or the mechanical workings of many of our greatest inventions astounding, awe inspiring. It's just... Those god damn mechs. I've heard, and seen of little else since I was a child. He lives breaths and shits mechs, and I cannot be fucked! I cannot be expected to give as much of a shit. My counselor assures me I will find aspects, as I learn more, which fascinate me. Or otherwise will become so desensitized as to be able to stomach the site of them. Will learning every nook and cranny of a mech make me appreciate them for the marvels that they are? Or make me hate them that much more. Well. I'll try to return and let you know, oh journal of mine. The counselor tells me, writing it out, reasoning through these decisions logically will help. I hope they're right. I hope this life, which has been chosen for me, is not pure torture.
Adendum:
It has been many years now since I wrote this. I thought of it often. The day I accepted my families legacy. In spite of the blood and tears spilled, I wouldn't change that decision, not now. I did learn to love mechs, at least part of them. And I did learn to love Father, at least part of him. And now he's gone. We have not heard from my brother for a few years, the officials will not tell us anything. So the legacy is solely mine. Mine to protect, as it now comes under attack by his... Rivals, by his understudies, who hope to gain something from his demise. I will stop it, I assure you. I'm in too deep to get out now.
I'm sure father read this entry a time or two, over the years. He's always been a difficult one to keep secrets from, particularly ones stored digitally. He knew how I felt. But feelings do not matter in the empire, only advancing their goals. I've come to accept that, or at least I had. I'm not as sure anymore.
Working under father wasn't so bad. He was surprisingly patient, and a good teacher. I will miss him.