Diary Entry
Dear Diary,
Assuming the ice storm which has gripped the city has abated by tomorrow, shortly shall I set sail on a voyage the like of which I have previously only ever dreamt. In preparation I have re-read the works of the great adventuring naturalists, in hopes that my own name might soon stand among theirs in the canon of botanical literature. The Company is sending me on a most specific errand. But—perhaps in exchange for the danger in which I may place my person— they have granted me the rights to whatever additional discoveries I might make along the way. Who knows what incredible birds or insects or medicinal herbs I might chance across? I am determined to keep as thorough notes as I can. Perhaps I will find a subject worthy of presentation at the Royal Horticultural Society, or even the International Naturalists Symposium. Oh what prestige could be mine should Fate present me with such!
My only reservations remain in the couched terms with which my instructions have been presented, which are sufficiently vague to cause concern that misinterpretation on my part might result in failure to fulfill them. All attempts at greater clarity were brushed aside by my superiors with such deliberateness that I must conclude they expect I may have to conduct myself in a less than gentlemanly manner!
And yet, what unspeakable acts could they possibly expect a botanist to perform? Is it possible that when they direct me to "retrieve" a specimen, they in fact intend for me to abscond like a thief in the night? Preposterous,. When it comes to botanical riches, unlike a treasure looted from a king's tomb, a cutting from a flower, lovingly nurtured, harms not the mother plant and yet increases the bounty for all.
I must set aside my reservations. I must. For I am committed to this course.