25JUL3025
There’s something oddly freeing about having seen your own dead body and not knowing if it was real.
Like… what’s anyone gonna do to me now?
Kill me? Already checked that off.
Scare me? The void tried. I wrote merch slogans about it.
Confuse me? Buddy, I live there. Rent-free.
So when I picked up a distress signal today and the coordinates were spelled out in reverse using the phonetic alphabet and Morse code overlaid with whale song, I didn’t panic.
I made coffee.
I took notes.
I plotted the course.
Because at this point, I’m not afraid. I’m curious.
Survival Rule #18: If It’s Clearly a Trap, Pack Snacks First
The transmission came from an asteroid field orbiting a dead moon.
The moon was cracked like an egg.
The field was unstable.
And the signal was coming from the center of a spinning mass of broken mining rigs that looked like they’d been chewed on by something too big to exist.
Which meant, of course, I went in.
Because I’ve learned something lately:
The universe doesn’t send you haunted shipyards and cryptic radio puzzles if it wants you to mind your own business.
Meet the Problem
Halfway through the field, I got visuals.
And I swear on the Rust Rat’s malfunctioning coffee maker—
It was a giant mechanical arm.
Just… floating there.
Disconnected. Fingers twitching.
Still powered.
Attached to nothing.
Clutching a shipping crate the size of a shuttle.
And here’s the kicker:
The crate had airlocks.
And a logo.
“Property of Free Systems Biomachinery Division – DO NOT OPEN OUTSIDE CONTROLLED LAB SPACE.”
Naturally, I decided to knock on the crate.
And naturally, the crate knocked back.
My Response Was… Different
Now, normally, this would be the part where I start panicking.
Reversing thrusters. Sealing compartments. Arguing with Gary.
But not this time.
This time, I leaned in and said:
“Okay, big guy. What’s the worst that could happen?”
And I started docking.
Gary flashed a red warning across the console that just said:
“NOPE.”
Then it disappeared.
Even he’s given up trying to stop me.
Why Am I Doing This?
I think… I’m chasing something.
Not a monster. Not even a mystery.
Just a feeling I had back in that station.
That I’ve been somewhere like this before.
That I’m supposed to follow the weird.
And maybe—just maybe—
I’ve finally gone mad in a way that’s useful.
Scootch
Quote of the Day:
"You only think it’s a trap if you’re not curious enough to spring it."
