31OCT3025

Turns out being banned from a major trade route does make you more interesting.

Not in the “you’re welcome at dinner parties” way.
In the “you’re a walking conspiracy theory with a cargo hold full of cursed coffee mugs” way.

I’ll take it.

Survival Rule #32: If You Can’t Buy Respect, Sell the Version of Yourself People Want to Fear

After getting booted from Caldis Verge, I limped the Rat to a shady repair outpost called Drifter’s Elbow—a bolt-on mess of habitat rings, power cells, and three separate brothels orbiting a derelict ore hauler.

Place is unofficially run by a woman named Mira who introduced herself with the phrase:

“If you’re not paying, you’re inventory.”

Naturally, I offered her a patch.

The Merch Table (A Folding Crate with a Tarp)

Current inventory:

• “I Survived the Rust Rat” patches (embroidered by a salvaged drone)

• Stickers that say “Continuum Touched, Spacer Approved”

• Mugs that read “Don’t Talk to Me Until I’ve Screamed in the Dark”

• And one experimental shirt that just says:

  “Not Real, Not Friendly, Not Dead.”

Sales are… weird.
People keep buying in pairs—one to wear, one to “seal in a voidproof bag in case it activates.”
Which, hey, no refunds.

New Problem: Popularity

I’ve been approached by:

• A guy with seven teeth and a fork for a hand who asked to join my “haunted crew”

• A former pirate queen who offered me fuel in exchange for Echo “whispering into her dreams”

• And a trader who gave me five crates of ration paste in return for one of my bloody nose bandages, “to extract the waveform.”

I didn’t even know I left that out.

Echo’s Behavior

He’s been… quiet.
Still synced with the Rat. Still present. Still watching.

But I catch him looking at people.
Scanning them. Judging them.
Like he’s checking to see if any of them could be a pilot.

When I asked why, he just said:

“None of them fit the wound.”

Which is definitely not terrifying.

The Dreams Are Back

I didn’t want to talk about this.
Didn’t want to make it real.

But I’ve been dreaming of the prison seal again.

Only this time, it’s not closed.

And I’m not standing in front of it.

I’m inside it.

Watching the space between moments stretch like old skin.
Hearing words I can’t remember when I wake up—
But I feel them.

Like teeth, crawling across my thoughts.

I’ll Be Fine

Probably.
Business is steady.
The Rat’s holding atmosphere.
Echo hasn’t eaten anyone.

And no one’s tried to dissect me this week.

I’m calling that a win.

• Scootch

Quote of the Day:
"If people want to believe you’re cursed, let them. Just charge double."