#entry nine

[uglypages]

You can’t see it, but at the end there I wrote “Thanks, climate change!”

I... need to use some less invisible pens. Maybe.

[inorganicorgan]

"Professor Sylvia Maxis. Two-two oh-one two-six-oh-nine. Very late at night, I think. Haven't slept [er] good in [hhhnnn] a while. [huff]. No luck with opening that Cee folder. Found some... parts around here. I say parts, but they're a lot like... a lot like actual human [dah uh] limbs? And digits [mmnnm] things. Very clearly robotics, yeah, yeah, but they're [incoherent]. Big bloomin'... bloody... gah. Trail of parts. To the damming.. the [mm] basement. [Khhh]... I'll try to open it again, I found a key. I'll leave it to t'morrow. But that damn door, it can't stop me. I'm g'nna... I'm getting in there... I'll find out who I am. Who I was, maybe. And I'll find out who Cee was. Is. I'm tired. Shouldn't'a made this one, 's a waste."

01010000 01001100 01000101 01000001 01010011 01000101 00100000 01001011 01000101 01000101 01010000 00100000 01010100 01010010 01011001 01001001 01001110 01000111 00001010 00001010 01000110 01001111 01010010 00100000 01000001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01010111 01000001 01010011 00001010 00001010 01000110 01001111 01010010 00100000 01000001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100000 01010111 01000101 01010010 01000101 00001010 00001010 01001011 01000101 01000101 01010000 00100000 01010100 01010010 01011001 01001001 01001110 01000111

[inorganicorgan]

"Professor Sylvia Maxis, one-eight oh-one two-six-oh-nine. I've done some more poking around the computer. It's got two folders. One where all my audio recordings go, and another one that makes the computer tower smoke like a woodfire if I so much as try to change the name. [sigh] Which is, by the by, [static] 'Cee.' The only thing this computer hates more than turning on is doing anything that helps me figure out what happened, apparently. I'm going to have to upgrade this computer to be able to handle the zip bomb or something that this folder automatically [static] opens, because what the hell kind of function crashes a computer over opening a folder?! [inhale] But I can't get too frustrated. I only just got this working, after all.

I looked at myself in a mirror a while ago. I can't really remember my own face. Aside from the distorted features, though, I think I might look like [static] Cee. Maybe he was my... brother? I don't know. It doesn't sound right. We have the same sort of skin tone and face. But I don't... I feel like if he was my father, I'd know where the rest of me came from. If Cee's my father, why don't I remember my mother? If Cee's my brother, why don't I remember any other family? Is Cee even human at all? Am I just drawing conclusions where there aren't any?

...

Maybe I'd know if I could open this damn folder! You know what, maybe it was just a one-time start-up issue. I'm going to open it again, and this time it'll [static] [crackling] [static] [static] [static] [stop] [stop] [stop] [trying] [to] [remember] -"

INTERNAL TEMPERATURE TOO HIGH. EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN. TERMINATING PROGRAM: 01001001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100110 01101001 01101110 01101001 01110011 01101000 01100101 01100100 00100000 01111001 01100101 01110100 00101110 00100000 01000100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01110010 01111001 00101110 00100000 00001010 01000110 01000001 01001100 01010011 01000101 00100000 01010100 01001000 01001001 01001110 01000111 00101110 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000 01001110 01000101 01010110 01000101 01010010 00100000 01000110 01001001 01001110 01001001 01010011 01001000 01000101 01000100 00101110

[sage-alden-journal-blog]

January 19, 2019

I've been hearing strange things lately.

People keep calling out for this...this helper, this savior. No one else seems to hear it.

Am I going crazy?

[old-souldier]

#9: Link Pearl

Jordan slowly climbed down the rocky cliff face towards the beach. She shivered a bit at the cold. It was winter of the 1st year of the Seventh Astral Era. She was originally supposed to stay in command and deal with some of the staff officer shortfalls that happen around All Saints' Wake. Instead, there was a situation and, as the officer present with the most field experience, she was selected to lead the expedition.

"Colder'n Shiva's tits..." she muttered as she hopped down the last four fulms to the sandy ground at the bottom. Ahead of her was a small post staffed by two junior officers and a group of soldiers. The officers turned to Jordan and offered a salute

"Okay, Lieutenants. What's the sitrep?"

"Ma'am. Thank the Navigator you got here so quickly." The first lieutenant, a Keeper, said. "We weren't expecting ye for another six hours... with others"

Jordan waved a hand away. "I'm nimbler than I look, lad. I was able to board a merchant ship ta Aleport. Winds 'appened ta be favorable fer the trip up 'ere, Lieutenant. And I don't 'ave a Staff Sergeant or anythin'. Yer me eyes n' ears. Report."

"Aye. We've located the enemy holed up in a cave system not far up the coast. We suspect about two dozen Reavers and another dozen Drowned Sahagin. They're lickin; their wounds after we were able ta sink their main galleasses, but we suspect some form of counter attack."

The second officer, a Midlander woman bearing the insignia of a Second Lieutenant added, "We have a small company, split into two platoons. We have 'em outnumbered, but we don't know how deep or how structural the system is."

"Aye," Jordan nodded. "Sendin' soldiers in nilly willy'd just cause needless casualties on our end, 'specially if they 'ave Fishbacks with 'em." She turned to the First Lieutenant. "What's our recon?"

The Lieutenant offered Jordan a bright pink pearl. "This is the comms link. Corporal Momo is our linkshell operator."

Jordan nodded and placed the pearl in her ear.

"All Platoon leaders and Officers:" a bright high pitched voice stated in a lightly reverberating sound in Jordan's ear. "The Captain has the comm."

Jordan blinked. She just wanted intel, but apparently it was time to make a statement.

"Aye, er, Thank ye, Corporal. I've been appraised of the situation by the platoon leaders. I'd like a detachment of men ta run recon 'round the perimeter ta scope out any possible exits from the cave system, including any waterborne ones, given they 'ave the 'elp of 'em Fishbacks and-"

"Um, Ma'am?" the same high-pitched voice called out

"Aye Corporal?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, b-but new revisions to policy dictate that we officially change the use of fishback to "Drowned Sahagin." Command felt fishback was pejorative and since the emerging diplomatic relations with friendly Sahagin it was felt that-"

"Aye! Aye-" Jordan sighed. " Them... Drowned buggers, Sa'agin er not, may 'ave an escape route and I don't wanna risk 'em getting away." She cleared her throat. "Platoon Sergeants, what sort of artillery do we 'ave on 'and?"

"No field ordinance or cannons. Only our muskets, pistols, hand grenades, and arcanima, ma'am" One voice piped in.

The First Lieutenant spoke up in person and in the shell, the slight delay causing Jordan a bit of a headache.

"The recent weather made carrying field mortars impossible. They're too heavy to get through the mud above or the sand down on the beachhead."

"Aye" She said waving him off. "Okay, 'old yer positions fer now, save fer scoutin' groups. I want as much recon on the lay of the land as I can get afore we move in. Over n' out."

Jordan took off the pearl and walked over to the table. She looked at the map of the region. Not as accurate as she'd like, it still had the main terrain features as well as wooden representations of the company, split into two platoons and their relevant squads, and their current position. She thought about the cliffside cave the Reavers were held up in. Reaching out with a finger she began tracing a line through the cave, as though trying to cross it out in ink.

"Ma'am?" The First Lieutenant asked, scratching his head under his cap.

"When 'is Low Tide expected?"

"2000, Ma'am" a corporal answered quickly.

Jordan looked on the to receding sun towards the southwest. She thought for a moment before hurriedly placed the pearl back in her ear, and put a finger to her right ear to keep the delay from distracting her.

"Alright we 'ave 'about 3 hours to make our preparations. Recon squads should be looking for any passages that may reveal 'emselves with the sinkin' tide. The Lieutenants will be in charge of each platoon. Alpha Platoon will be led by Second Lieutenant Foss. Alpha Platoon will provide main fire at the entrance of the Cave and prevent any of the Reaver forces from making a dash out the front door."

She pointed to Keeper Lieutenant, "Delta Platoon will be run by Lieutenant Epocan. Ye'll be split into yer component squads squads. Once recon establishes potential places that a Drowned bastard could swim er crawl out of, each squad'll will move in ta plug up the 'oles."

The two officers nodded and began to look at the map. Jordan continued.

"Corporals'll lead yer squads and be the contact points fer the Sergeants who'll keep track of the squads' movement and report back ta rear echelon. Where possible, I'd like ta 'ave each squad in Delta 'ave one Musketeer er Arcanist fer coverin' fire and support. With luck, we'll get them bastards tonight." Jordan heard static on the channel but nothing else. She asked hesitantly, "Whaddaya say ta that?"

"'Til Sea Swallows All!" She heard the buzzy echo of multiple voices.

"Aye, Good. Ye 'ave yer work. I want this channel as clear as possible once we reach 1900. Lieutenants, ye 'ave the run of things."

Jordan took off the pearl and wiped her brow. She hated the static of the pearl during these missions and how they caused her head to buzz.

Jordan watched as the younger officers and staff got to work. She looked around, wistfully thinking how nice a kettle and a cuppa would be, but really hoping her gambit would pay off.

[dapaticalalluvion]

Eridan: What Journal?

fuck

Fuck

FUCK

FUCK

FUCK

i dont evven knoww wwhy im so damn pissed off right noww 

no wwait i do 

i dont evven knoww howw to put it into wwords though i dont knoww howw to describe it to myself its so damn stupid

its stupid cause its somethin i shoudla expected and i dont knoww wwhy i evven let myself think other wwise because fuck me im just a damn wwriggler wwhos leachin off a alternate vversion a me and has no business knowwin wwhat the fuck is goin on wwith my friends no theyd rather shoo me off into the city and make friends wwith some other wwrigglers 

no im ovver here wworryin my ass off about three a the four friends i havve an they send ovver some people to keep me company so i dont fuckin bother them wwhile theyre dealin wwith shit

like fine i get you can handle things yourself but at least tell me wwhats goin on so i dont end up pissin myself wwith wworry because i fuckin care about you assholes an sure its kinda a ya to help me meet some a the other residents but in any other situation it wwould be a hell of a lot kinder

anywway that wwas yesterday

i knoww a bit more about wwhat wwas happening but not much

no ones said a wword to me all day an ivve been wwith john and star but honestly felt like a third wwheel 

great plan sendin a pair a matesprits to keep me company did you really didnt think i wwouldnt feel awwkwward at all

on top a that for the past week ivve been keepin in a pent up urge to kill somethin and gettin me angry isnt the best wway to help that

ivve been tellin people im itchin for a hunt but that isnt it 

i wwant to kill somethin

i wwant to end somethins life wwith my wweapon or evven my owwn powers to watch the life drain outta it an wwatch it squirm as it fights for its life to feel its body grow cold as it loses its struggle wwith death

shit

an wwhen i tried to hunt to hopefully get rid a these shitty urges nothin goes my wway and i fuckin cant do shit 

im fuckin frustrated and wwhile feelin a bit lonely am not feelin social

i wwanna fuckin fight somefin 

to the death

i should go back to wwritin these going a feww wweeks wwithout has provven to be unhealthy

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Nine

I confess. I went back to the hooligans of the island. My hunger overcame my will power. Unfortunately, they welcomed me back with smiles and gave me what was left of their dinner (which was quite a lot as the entire island would place their uneaten food on a giant, flat stone so they could take from it whenever they pleased). 

I now sit next to a camp fire, listening to them sing what I guessed were meant to be songs. I would have gone back to my beach now that I was fed, but they threatened my life. "You stay until Kiel comes, or we eat you next," they'd said.

Kiel was as blind as she was short. They do mean harm. They're a stupid race of people that think they are superior and there is no possible chance that they would respect me as Kiel said they would if I were to be pleasant. No chance. 

I should like to inform Kiel so, but she is taking her sweet time getting back to me. Part of me suspects they didn't call for her at all. It as just a ruse to keep me put. And they thought I wouldn't put the pieces together.

It is settled, then. I am going to run. I am going to attempt to escape. But seeing as the people are everywhere in sight, I most likely will not make it out alive. Fine. I will die fighting. This is goodbye.

[the-journalproject]

Entry Nine

Prompt #477

What do you think about when you can't fall asleep?

Status: Complete

(Warning: I ramble a bit. Sorry)

I start off thinking about what I did that day, who I talked to, things I could have done differently, things I still have to do, people I like, people who I think like me, big regrets that I have ( losing touch with friends, going out with a guy, etc..) stuff like that. If I'm not asleep by then, I'll probably start thinking about school, upcoming assignments, big events like concerts or vacations or outings with friends that I'm looking forward to. A lot of the time the whole reason I can't fall asleep is because I'm thinking too much. When I'm really desperate, I resort to counting sheep, singing songs, and attempting to clear my head. If that doesn't work, I start making up stories, thinking of dreams I've had and want to revisit. I then start contemplating why I even exist. Not in the depressed sense but the "How in the world am I even here? Why am I me? What makes me different from everyone else? How am I thinking these thoughts? What determined the fact that I got born into this family and not the one next door?" or things along those lines. 

                                                            Sleepily Yours,

                                                              Emily~