03OCT3025

So Echo blogged again.
Didn’t ask. Didn’t warn me. Just dropped a quiet, poetic little message about how I’m apparently the cosmic permission slip for a haunted meat-ship to break the laws of time and space.

Cool. Cool cool cool.

Survival Rule #28: If Your Biotech Roommate Says You’re “the Key,” Ask What Happens If You Turn

I read the post.
I read it twice.

It wasn’t a warning.
It was a countdown.

The Rat is pulsing in tighter waves now—like a heart under strain, holding its final beat before release.
I’ve locked myself in the cockpit.

Not to hide.
Just to… feel it.

To be in the center of it when the truth arrives.

I’ve lived in junkyards.
I’ve slept in smuggler holds.
I’ve fought in hallways too narrow to miss a shot.

But I’ve never felt like this.

Like the universe has been building to me.

Echo Sat Beside Me

No words.
No hums.

Just sat there. Quiet. Present.

And finally said:

“When you breathe in next, the stars will not be the same.”

And I believed him.

I Don’t Know If I’ll See You Again

I’m leaving this post in the queue.
If we make it through, maybe I’ll update next week.

If not…

Just know we didn’t vanish.

We followed the pulse.
We heard the voice in the dark.
And we said yes.

• Scootch

Quote of the Day:
"The edge of the map isn’t where the world ends. It’s where something older remembers how it began."