Ransom Arceihn
Syrophoenician
[STATUS CHECK 26/4]
SYSTEM|ONE
Links prepared.
Coil prepared.
Alignment complete.
Cues functional.
Lost connection. System one inoperative. Restarting ...
Links re-established.
Coil re-established.
Alignment optimised.
Cues functional.
System one operational.
SYSTEM|TWO
Links prepared.
Shroud stabilised.
Alignment complete.
Cues functional.
System two desynchronised. Running diagnostic.
Links re-established.
Shroud re-established.
Alignment tuned.
Cues functional.
System two operational.
SYSTEM|THREE
Links unstable.
Paths undefined.
Alignment complete.
Cues functional.
SYSTEM|FOUR
All primary systems must be operational before attempting boot sequence.
MONITOR:
2370, 7 October
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is; Samuel says, regardless of the condition of my internal clock, his is working quite well.
It's cold sometimes. You wouldn't have any idea, looking down from above; where we are is nearly all forest and grass, a continent of green surrounded by an ocean of snow. In the day, warm. But the moment night falls, it is like being thrown in a fridge. Is that a clichéd comparison? Samuel tells me he is impressed I have retained the cognitive ability to use comparisons at all.
It was, incidentally, Samuel who suggested I start keeping a journal. I'm not entirely sure why. He says a lot of things that are strange to me. Some would say that is, in fact, what makes him Samuel -- I would say what makes him Samuel is his mind and body. Perhaps I am being too literal. I'm told I am a very boring person to speak to. But what would Samuel know about that?
2370, 29 October
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is; Samuel says he's been counting the days. It feels like barely a week since I last wrote.
This metal floor sucks the heat from things. I'm afraid to go bare-foot in here for fear of getting frostbite. Frostbite: that's something Samuel told me about, something I heard only yesterday. Or was reminded of, I suppose. I do not know. Of course, in here we are isolated from all that cold, and my suit is plenty thick -- but I can't seem to stop shivering. I asked Samuel about that, and he tells me I've got a cold. So if I have a cold, shouldn't we let some heat in? There's a whole desert at our disposal, and the night's not for hours. It is surprising how hot it gets when the sun is out.
In here, at least. I've never been outside. Samuel insists that we put that off for as long as possible, that in my condition I am not ready. But I'm not sure he's right, because it's so much colder in here.
2370, 3 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is. Samuel says he finds my repetition here curious. I told him I was only doing it to make fun of him, but that just puzzled him more. I suppose it isn't that funny.
We are attempting to repair the ship. Samuel knows more about it than I do, so he must direct me. But gradually we are bringing more systems online. Once we get to a certain stage, though -- once we get to a certain stage I am afraid we shall need new parts. And we are hardly in a position to build them. So I do not think we will get her back in the air, my ship. But that's all right. Where would we go?
I do not even know where we are.
2370, 11 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is. I will take his word for it.
There is no food left. It was only mush -- only the mush Samuel explains is not real food but a vitamin-rich substitute meant for long missions spent in deep space (I am paraphrasing), but I have no more of it and I must find a replacement. I must. I will leave the ship tomorrow to find something in the snow. Samuel showed to me some plants that grow here, ones he supposes are edible. Pictures of them. I will find them when I go. He says he does not know if I am strong enough yet, but of course there is no choice.
I am very tired, now. I do not know why. So I will sleep. And tomorrow, the snow.
2370, 12 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is. But I do not care what day it is.
Samuel seemed pleased to see me return. The wilderness outside is all the same -- a hard whiteness, like static. I considered staying out there. I considered dying. I decided against it. Samuel insisted that I come back, and I would not want to disappoint him. When I returned I asked him where the sense lay in staying alive. He said, and I am paraphrasing again, because I found his answer interesting: "What reason do you have to die?"
The berries were dark and cold and tasteless. I think perhaps my sense of smell is gone.
2370 29 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is.
It occurs to me that I have forgotten things. Before the crash, the mission; before the mission, nothing. Oh, amnesia. Amnesia, amnesia. I have said the word over and over until it lost its meaning. Mean-ing. Samuel has concerns about my mental stability. He is a dear thing, Samuel. My quiet faceless friend who knows so many things about frostbites and berries and time. I hope his power supplies will last.
Tomorrow I am to scavenge for more food. My supply is almost done.
PREDICTIVE:
ERROR: UNANTICIPATED VARIABLE - ADJUSTING PREDICTIVE
[END STATUS CHECK]
SYSTEM|ONE
Links prepared.
Coil prepared.
Alignment complete.
Cues functional.
Lost connection. System one inoperative. Restarting ...
Links re-established.
Coil re-established.
Alignment optimised.
Cues functional.
System one operational.
SYSTEM|TWO
Links prepared.
Shroud stabilised.
Alignment complete.
Cues functional.
System two desynchronised. Running diagnostic.
Links re-established.
Shroud re-established.
Alignment tuned.
Cues functional.
System two operational.
SYSTEM|THREE
Links unstable.
Paths undefined.
Alignment complete.
Cues functional.
SYSTEM|FOUR
All primary systems must be operational before attempting boot sequence.
MONITOR:
2370, 7 October
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is; Samuel says, regardless of the condition of my internal clock, his is working quite well.
It's cold sometimes. You wouldn't have any idea, looking down from above; where we are is nearly all forest and grass, a continent of green surrounded by an ocean of snow. In the day, warm. But the moment night falls, it is like being thrown in a fridge. Is that a clichéd comparison? Samuel tells me he is impressed I have retained the cognitive ability to use comparisons at all.
It was, incidentally, Samuel who suggested I start keeping a journal. I'm not entirely sure why. He says a lot of things that are strange to me. Some would say that is, in fact, what makes him Samuel -- I would say what makes him Samuel is his mind and body. Perhaps I am being too literal. I'm told I am a very boring person to speak to. But what would Samuel know about that?
* * *
2370, 29 October
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is; Samuel says he's been counting the days. It feels like barely a week since I last wrote.
This metal floor sucks the heat from things. I'm afraid to go bare-foot in here for fear of getting frostbite. Frostbite: that's something Samuel told me about, something I heard only yesterday. Or was reminded of, I suppose. I do not know. Of course, in here we are isolated from all that cold, and my suit is plenty thick -- but I can't seem to stop shivering. I asked Samuel about that, and he tells me I've got a cold. So if I have a cold, shouldn't we let some heat in? There's a whole desert at our disposal, and the night's not for hours. It is surprising how hot it gets when the sun is out.
In here, at least. I've never been outside. Samuel insists that we put that off for as long as possible, that in my condition I am not ready. But I'm not sure he's right, because it's so much colder in here.
* * *
2370, 3 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is. Samuel says he finds my repetition here curious. I told him I was only doing it to make fun of him, but that just puzzled him more. I suppose it isn't that funny.
We are attempting to repair the ship. Samuel knows more about it than I do, so he must direct me. But gradually we are bringing more systems online. Once we get to a certain stage, though -- once we get to a certain stage I am afraid we shall need new parts. And we are hardly in a position to build them. So I do not think we will get her back in the air, my ship. But that's all right. Where would we go?
I do not even know where we are.
* * *
2370, 11 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is. I will take his word for it.
There is no food left. It was only mush -- only the mush Samuel explains is not real food but a vitamin-rich substitute meant for long missions spent in deep space (I am paraphrasing), but I have no more of it and I must find a replacement. I must. I will leave the ship tomorrow to find something in the snow. Samuel showed to me some plants that grow here, ones he supposes are edible. Pictures of them. I will find them when I go. He says he does not know if I am strong enough yet, but of course there is no choice.
I am very tired, now. I do not know why. So I will sleep. And tomorrow, the snow.
* * *
2370, 12 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is. But I do not care what day it is.
Samuel seemed pleased to see me return. The wilderness outside is all the same -- a hard whiteness, like static. I considered staying out there. I considered dying. I decided against it. Samuel insisted that I come back, and I would not want to disappoint him. When I returned I asked him where the sense lay in staying alive. He said, and I am paraphrasing again, because I found his answer interesting: "What reason do you have to die?"
The berries were dark and cold and tasteless. I think perhaps my sense of smell is gone.
* * *
2370 29 November
Is that the date? I'm told that, yes, it is.
It occurs to me that I have forgotten things. Before the crash, the mission; before the mission, nothing. Oh, amnesia. Amnesia, amnesia. I have said the word over and over until it lost its meaning. Mean-ing. Samuel has concerns about my mental stability. He is a dear thing, Samuel. My quiet faceless friend who knows so many things about frostbites and berries and time. I hope his power supplies will last.
Tomorrow I am to scavenge for more food. My supply is almost done.
PREDICTIVE:
ERROR: UNANTICIPATED VARIABLE - ADJUSTING PREDICTIVE
[END STATUS CHECK]
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