11JUL3025

There’s a point in every spacer’s journey where they stop asking “Why me?” and start asking “Now what?”

I hit that point somewhere between seeing my own body in a cryopod and realizing my only friend is a hallucinated whisper named Gary who’s been suspiciously quiet ever since.

So yeah. Now what.

Survival Rule #16: If You’re Not Real, Act Like You Are

I stood over my body for what felt like hours.

Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t blink.

The cryopod was sealed, lights still pulsing. My vitals? Steady. Brain activity? Active. Which is hilarious because this brain is also very much functioning and writing this blog entry.

So I did what any rational man would do in this situation:

I waved at myself.

I said, “Hey, buddy. You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

No response. Not that I expected one.

But saying it out loud helped. Reminded me that whether I’m real, simulated, or just the world’s most elaborate coping mechanism—I’m still me.

I’m still Scootch.

And Scootch doesn’t just sit there staring at himself.

Scootch touches the glowing panel that probably ends everything.

The Feedback Pulse

The moment I pressed the panel beside the cryopod, the station reacted.

Not violently. Not dramatically.

Just… deeply.

A low-frequency hum vibrated through the walls, like it was tuning into something buried inside me.

And then the lights dimmed.
The patterns on the walls shifted.
And I heard a voice that wasn’t Gary, wasn’t Dex, wasn’t me.

It was many voices. At once.

“First to wake. First to fracture. First to remember.”

“We are the remnant. The cycle. The echo.”

“You will not survive. But you will continue.”

Then silence.

No explanation. No instructions.

Just the sound of my own breathing inside a room that no longer acknowledged my presence.

The Return

When I stepped out of the cryopod chamber, the station had changed.

No more twisting halls. No more infinite loops.

Just a single path leading back to the airlock.

And there, docked to the outer ring of the station, looking exactly as battered and haunted as I left her:

The Rust Rat.

I climbed aboard.
Everything worked.
Comms. Nav. Gravity. Even the damn coffee machine.

Gary was back, too.
He didn’t say anything. Just played a sad little two-note tone through the intercom and turned on the cabin lights.

Which, honestly, is about as supportive as he gets.

So… What Now?

I have a ship.
I have a story that no one will ever believe.
I have a patch that says “I Survived the Rust Rat,” which is either ironic or prophetic.

And I have a gut feeling that this wasn’t the end of something.

It was the beginning.

Whatever I woke up from… I don’t think I came back alone.

• Scootch

Quote of the Day:
"If you walk out of the dark and nothing follows you, check again."