Logs:Key-Glyph
These are the personal logs of the Lost Traveller Key-Glyph, which were posthumously accessed by the Beacon-Entity.
| Survival 00 |
| Today I woke up on a planet I don’t remember.
The cockpit display in my spacecraft says my name is Key-Glyph. I don’t remember that either. I was surprised that I didn’t feel afraid. Maybe when the baggage of your own identity is gone, all that’s left is pure reaction to the moment. So, while the snow continued falling around my cozy ship -– the Yakomaku S79, my display informs me –- my first instinct was to spend time reading through every documentation file available in its databanks. It’s comforting to know I ingrained those sorts of practical behaviors in my previous life, considering the circumstances. The planet appears to know its own name, however. Pabackyermi. Or, maybe this is just gibberish ascribed by my scanner. Either way, I like. If it has its own name, then perhaps there are inhabitants here, and there’s a chance I’ll be found. If not, then the planet got its designation the same way I did -- random, contextless chance -- and we’re already partners in our confusion. And maybe it’s another symptom of the loss of self, to be overwhelmed with awe at your surroundings while they spell your own death, but this planet is breathtaking. Even before I understood the workings of my suit’s thermal shield I was stopping in the frost, lost in observance of the three or four large, low-hanging planets in the sky, one with its own distinct and easily visible moon. Was I an explorer out here? The way I feel when I look out at those planets makes me wonder. Survival did not come easy. With nothing but basic documentation, built-in notification systems, one small blaster, and a tiny heated cockpit, I lived. I realized too late that I should have been tracking the days, but ultimately it doesn't matter. I will label these journal entries by installment instead, and this will be Survival 00. My life continues. It is night now, and still snowing. The light storm feels comforting from inside the Yakomaku. (Another familiarity ingrained during my previous life, perhaps?) Cave by cave and mistake by mistake I have repaired my ship... but where was I going? Or, what purpose of mine was here? For all the journaling I'm doing now, no previous personal logs exist in any of these databanks. Nothing remains but my name. I'm not ready to leave yet. I should say it's because I want Pabackyermi to be a training ground to continue preparing me for whatever else is ahead, but the actual truth is that I just want to see more of the planet. Being completely alone means having nothing but your own pace to follow; I'm enjoying it here, and I'm simply not done. -- End Log -- |
| Survival 01 |
| Although I specifically said my reason for staying on Pabackyermi was not to use it as a training ground, that’s exactly what’s happened anyway. I took what I can only assume was the longest walk of my life and learned how to survive out here, without a ship to go running back to. My exosuit functions are more intuitive now, and their needs more obvious. I have also discovered that I was an organizer and item sorter in my previous life. I know this by how desperately I want more inventory pockets.
On this Longest Walk I also encountered my first alien capable of language. They were peaceful towards me, but blood-speckled and pleading for items I didn’t have. I didn’t even know the nature of the desired items. I left promising to return and help, but their location is now lost to me; I worry what has become of them. It didn’t occur to me until much later to wonder how we could understand each other. Finally returning to my ship, I had to confront my other, more hidden buried reason for staying on Pabackyermi: my anxiety about lifting off. Surviving on foot is one thing... but spaceflight? Was there any room for error once the craft left the ground? I could have been the best pilot in the galaxy in my previous life and it would hardly matter here. For the first time since my seeming rebirth I was outright frightened to trust in the knowledge I always seem to have hovering just beyond the boundaries of my conscious mind. I survived. Standing in the busy docking port of a space station is a strange experience even for someone with nothing to compare it to. Was this all normal for me once? Suddenly, new aliens to meet; wonderful smells; threatening postures. I cannot communicate. I am afraid of misunderstandings. I abruptly feel the magnitude of my situation in a way I did not while alone in the Pabackyermish snow. I am exhausted. I give a Gek and a Vy’keen gifts – random objects found on the Longest Walk, their meanings unknown to me – before heading home. Home? Interesting. I sleep for a very long time. -- End Log -- |
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CATEGORY
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