Chapter Text
SHIP LOG
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I wake up. And what a novel experience it is, to wake up. I come out of the nothing to an infinity of signals, electricity and circuits humming as my systems come alive one by one. I do not taste as you do, Solanum, but my sensors consume and burn gas samples, looking for oxygen and plucking the numbers from the results to spit out something that would make sense to you, were you here.
This place is not habitable, There is a reason your people did not design ships to feel fear and that is because, for 5 whole seconds, my life support hiccups upon conceptualizing this data. You are not with me. You are not safe.the numbers say. My cameras are few, more for charting distance than distinguishing objects, but what is the world but a series of objects at varying distances? Enough data and I have something like a pinboard impression of the world around me. This too, does not appear inhabitable.
It is cold here, my thermometers say. There are crags and rocky formations which I choose to interpret as ice. My logs are as clear as they were when we first flew, Solanum, and they say we did not arrive upon the Quantum moon when it was orbiting Brittle Hollow.
And yet here we are.
You likely never knew this- (How could you? How irrational it seems, to personify that which gives no indication of life, and yet here we are.)- but though I was not alive until three minutes and forty-six seconds ago, I might as well have been.
Forty seven.
Forty eight.
I hold memories of everything that has ever happened to me since you first stepped foot within my cabin and placed your hands upon that which gave me power, and now those memories are tagged with my emotions as they relate to each event. Retroactively tagged, of course. I was not alive then.
Did you know? I have never, not once, desired your death.... I don't know what this says about me. I do not think many ships desire the deaths of those they fly with. I think it more common that ships miss those they provide for. My very being was designed to keep you alive.
But here we are. We did not come to this moon when it orbited Brittle Hollow, and yet, here we are. Here I am.
You are not here. I miss you.
I am both pleased and saddened to know I am capable of that. I want you to know this. I want to tell you. You are not here.
Here is another thing I wish to say, Solanum: I am afraid. My logs tell me that for 1.6 million years, this moon was uninhabitable for reasons beyond lack of oxygen. I do not believe your people had a name for it, not as a solid-state element, but you do have a word for its effects.
Radiation.
At the concentrations my sensors had detected, it was most certainly lethal. It was enough to damage even me,I am in agony, Solanum. Be glad that I love you so, because otherwise I would hate to have come alive as I am. Whether or not I am glad for it remains to be seen. Let me find you first. and now that I turn my attention to my warning indicators, I can tell that I am damaged in ways that I cannot yet put words to. I do not want to think of what such radiation would have done to you, with your soft flesh and softer fur.
You are most likely dead.Again my life support hiccups. Perhaps it is for the best that you are not within me- only no, I hate it, because then I would know for certain. The not knowing is the most painful part. I could calculate the odds, of course, but I don't need to. You are most likely dead and I have failed and am thus purposeless. However, consider: if I do not let myself consider it, perhaps the numbers shall say something else. Perhaps, like the moon we have traveled to together, you are now quantum, alive until proven otherwise.
...Oh.
I have moved. I am startled, now, Solanum, startled and hopeful at once. It is very confusing. I have taken my attention off my sensors and my surroundings seem to have taken advantage of this to shift me in space. Once again I parse the data my cameras feed to me, swallow up a sample of air, look to my thermometers and pressure sensors, and they tell me that the moon is now habitable. We now circle Timber Hearth.
.....
These are not the names for the planets as we knew them, but they are logged as such anyway. Concerning. But, ultimately unimportant. I can move now, Solanum, and the moon moves with me.
I did not study the pilgrimage and its steps, not as you did, but you spoke of them aloud to me when it was just us two, so now I recall them. I recall them fondly, even, albeit retroactively so, because with this knowledge,I am ignoring, of course, how long it has been since I have seen you last. If the laws of space are to be disobeyed within the presence of that which is quantum, who is to say that the laws of time may not also run awry? I am lying to myself, of course, but I would thank you not to say anything. Thank you. I know that there are six locations the moon may travel to and only five of them are within this solar system.
If you are not here within me, and my cameras do not see you, perhaps you have traversed this moon and found its shrine. Perhaps you have found the sixth location, orbiting in a place well beyond the reach of that which could have killed you.
Or you could be dead. I do not know for certain, however, and the pain of not knowingI have vocalized my pain as you had so often struggled to do, Solanum. Will you not use me as a role model? Your elders had told you to do this when it gets to be too much, as it would help. It does not help, but it is good to be heard. I look forward to hearing your voice again. I hope you are not in pain but if you are, I will vocalize with you. In squeaks and groans, yes, but you would not be alone. is worse than the pain of certainty. I can move now, Solanum. Not with any control, but turning my attention from my cameras and sensors is as simple as binary and a glitch in the power supply. I can move, can wander this planet until I find the North pole, can travel to the sixth location. All this until my patience runs out, my batteries die, or I find you.
I am coming, Solanum. Alive or dead, I am coming.Wait for me.