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THE LONG JOURNEY HOME is OUT NOW!

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Unboxing our special box for you guys [GER]! Pre-order the Long Journy Home #CAPTAINSEDITION now on Amazon 👉 https://goo.gl/Tjd4Py

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RELEASE DATE REVEALED: The Long Journey Home will be released on May 30th! Finally!!! 🚀🚀🚀< http://store.steampowered.com/app/366910/The_Long_Journey_Home/

[daedalicwest]

ZOETROPE/Issue 7

This newsletter sponsored by The Long Journey Home; the ultimate space adventure RPG. Coming soon…

Hey-hey. Zoe here again, this time looking at you from a little red planet not far away. That’s right. Our illustrious funder, Simon Castillo of Schiaparelli Mining B, had to make a quick trip back to the off-planet office, and yours truly managed to bag a seat on the shuttle. Honestly, I was in two minds about it. Part of me wanted to hold fire until the Daedalus mission. The other half was all, Zoe, if you give up this chance, we’re splitting off and creating our own Zoe Creed with a damn brain.

Funny. In my head, I knew Earth from here was just going to be a dot. Still, I’d not considered just how small that dot was going to be. All humanity, except for the five thousand or so of us on  the red planet, all in this one little speck of white someone had to point out to me. No wonder so many folks get the Red Madness. Universe can’t have many more ways of putting you in your place.

More on that in a second. Jump!

ZC, December 7th, 2066

LIFE ON MARS

So, if you want comfortable space travel, here’s my tip – don’t go to Mars.

 With the Daedalus-7 engine, it’ll be possible to get there in some three hours. Until then, the only regular shuttle is the one they call Old Faithful, on a two week round trip to bring supplies there and ore back home to us. Those who ride it are some of the most grizzled sons of bitches you’ll ever see, except of course for Mr Castillo, who has his own first-class cabin complete with all the mod-cons. Perks of being one of the richest men on either planet.

For the rest of us, here’s how it goes. Living space is a tube about as long and wide as an economy coffin, with one drawer to stash whatever personal supplies you’ve got. Weight’s such an issue, you don’t even get to bring clothes. No, let me finish. Not like that. It means you’ve got to trade in what you’re wearing for these ultra thin, light shirts and pants made of paper. Everyone goes barefoot and commando. Every gram counts because it’s a gram that could be vital supplies or profitable ore. Mars’ hydroponics still can’t grow its own food, and Schiaparelli… well, you know Schiaparelli.

So, doing your best not to tear your paper pants and have a hell of an awkward arrival, the flight staff tie you up in safety webbing that pins you utterly immobile to the bed. I mean, you cannot move. At all. Do not get an itchy nose. Anyway, once they’ve pinned you down comes the IV drip and by the time you’ve counted to  five, you’re waking up, it’s a week later, you need a shit like seriously nothing else and it feels like someone’s tried to saw off your tits with rubber tubing. And that’s how you get to Mars; sore, with your metabolism forcibly turned off for the duration. Fun? No…

But Mars itself? Totally worth it. Schiaparelli Crater B is where the main digging happens, with robotic diggers the size of city blocks filtering through the soil. The facility itself is pretty broken up with different pre-fab buildings, mostly set up to handle ore processing in part of the crater and then packed up again as the diggers move around. The whole sky buzzes with drones, picking up huge piles of ore and ferrying them back. At one point Schiaparelli took more care, in the hope of finding more artefacts like the so-called Ogema and Aphla, and yes, I spelled both of those correctly. Now, it’s pretty much confirmed – if there was ever life on Mars, we’re not going to find it by digging.

I’m still waiting for my interview with Mr. Castillo about the place, and until then my access to the place is unsurprisingly limited. Schiaparelli doesn’t get that many visitors, so I’ve spent a lot of time this last week sitting in my paper clothes down in the miners’ cafeteria, shooting B-Roll for the inevitable Virrtube and just chattering to folks about what brought them here. Like most pioneers, it’s a mix. Money. Nothing back on Earth to live for. For a few, the excitement of simply going into space. I can’t wait to see if the Daedalus-7 mission can reignite that in the public at large. I suppose after a while you’d get bored staring out of these plastic windows at the Martian desert… but it’s not going to happen for me any time soon. At least, not until we've seen a sandstorm.

FINAL THOUGHTS

One thing I can’t wait to get back for though – another good night’s sleep. I thought we had it rough at the IASA training camp, but that’s nothing compared to Mars. I’m bunking in the women’s dorms while I’m here. Not only does the working M-Day start at 4:30AM-LOC, our extra distance from the sun means the day is almost an hour longer, and you can be sure it’s baked right in the work day.

Of course, to the miners, that’s no big thing. These are the toughest chicks I’ve ever met, and if you think for a second they let the poor Earth girl roll over and go back to sleep… ha. Fun fact. Energy conservation’s so important here, ice-cold showers are the norm. Also, mandatory. Martian dust is nasty shit if it gets into unprotected systems. After just five days, I’d kill literally everyone here for a nice warm bath. Not long to go now though, thank goodness. Earth, much as I’m loving being so far away, don’t think I’m not missing you so bad.

That was Zozo. Over and out!

PREVIOUS ISSUES

ZOETROPE/1 - Siobhan Hartigan, Archeologist

ZOETROPE/2 - Zoe Vs. The Vomit Comet

ZOETROPE/3 - Malcolm Winters, Pilot

ZOETROPE/4 - Aboard The Daedalus-7

ZOETROPE/5 - Science Dive: How A Jump Drive Works (file not found)

ZOETROPE/6 - Professor Nikolay Lebedev, Researcher

[daedalicwest]

ZOETROPE/Issue 6

This newsletter sponsored by The Long Journey Home; the ultimate space adventure RPG. Coming soon…

Hello again! And what an incredible response we had to last week’s newsletter, on the workings of the Daedalus jump drive and exactly how it folds space. Got to say, it was good to break out some of my Physics PhD for you fine folks, and like I said, for a twenty billion dollar research project, it’s actually pretty straight-forward once you’ve got the basic scientific concepts down. Glad to help!

This week’s been a quiet one, really. Long gym sessions and endlessly practicing basic maintenance. Miriam’s idea to fill the test flight with non-experts hasn’t exactly been universally loved, but the one thing IASA did put its foot down on is that everyone on board has to be adept at the basics. Filling the fuel tank. Doing basic patch-jobs. That kind of thing. Most of today has been spent filling the fuel tank. It’s not that much different to doing it with a car, only spilling means risking starting a fire that can eat or blow up your oxygen faster than you can say ‘whoops’. So, lots of practice. So much practice...

Let’s do the newsletter thing, shall we?

- ZC, November 22, 2066

INTERVIEW: PROFESSOR NIKOLAY LEBEDEV

While largely unknown to the outside world, Professor Lebedev’s name is spoken in scientific circles with the same reverence as any Einstein, Curie or Crick. Now IASA’s chief engine researcher, he shares co-credit for the creation of the space-folder device, and plans to be there to ensure it goes well.

ZOETROPE: So, the space folder. Was this one of those inventions that came to you in the shower?

LEBEDEV: No, Miss Creed, no. Conceptually, it is a thing I have had in my head for at least forty of my many years now. As you yourself say with your own limited knowledge - I mean no offense of course, my dear, merely that you are young and have yet to fully explore our great universe’s potential... the raw idea is not inherently that difficult. The KNOSSOS drive that allows us travel from Earth to Mars is arguably a greater leap of creativity and problem solving. However, as is often the case in science, there is the concept, and then there is the will and capability to execute that concept. Could it have been completed while I worked for the Russian state? I suspect not. For the Americans? I fear they have lacked the stomach for such things for many years now. The Daedalus drive could only have been created by a world-wide push. It could only have been created by an organisation such as IASA.

Z: Much of your official biography is fairly spotty, or even redacted, but your regular movements between government projects is notable. How do you answer claims that your career has primarily shown a lack of loyalty?

L: I have one loyalty, Miss Creed, and it is neither to governments, who are merely flesh and blood and hardly worth the worship they crave, nor to the concept of a state, which is little more than ever-shifting lines upon a map. My loyalty is to science. Discovery. Pushing the boundaries. I am fortunate that my expertise has allowed me a measure of independence in this field, and my employers, public and otherwise, have seen the wisdom in that experience.

Z: Do you feel though that you could have had more prominence in the wider world had you allowed yourself to be the figurehead of-

L: Celebrity is a poor concern for any scientist. If my efforts have helped the world in even a small way, then that is a matter I can be proud of.

Z: Okay, but then there was that leaked document insisting the jump-engine be called the ‘Lebedev Drive’ instead of following IASA naming protocol, and-

L: Next question, Miss Creed.

Z: You’ve mostly been working with Alessandra Iacovelli’s engineering team to prepare the drive for launch. Is there any truth to the the rumour that she’s not entirely convinced that it’s ready for the final launch?

L. Signora Iacovelli and I are united in our belief that the Daedalus drive is ready. We merely argue over a few theoretical details that with the greatest possible respect to her fine work, I believe I am best placed to settle. 

Z: Right, but the gravitation well issue-

L: I appreciate your enthusiasm, Miss Creed, however this is rather more serious than a homework assignment. If we must however, then very well. The Daedalus drive uses the gravitational wells of stars for its navigation, it is true. It is also true that the primary limiting factor of the engine is the scanners that can provide sufficient information for a jump calculation. Theoretically, and speaking six-dimensionally, it is no more or less effort to jump to Alpha Centauri than to the distant side of the galaxy. In practice, we must take a more ordered route. One star to the next. Hopscotch style, if that metaphor helps.

Z: I understand, but what if-

L: Signora Iacovelli is merely being thorough, perhaps to the point of paranoia. Could a sufficient source of gravitational waves within subspace cause issues to the jump drive’s targeting systems? It is theoretically possible, yes. However, the required structure would be so far beyond anything that we have ever seen as to be the equivalent of a hundred black holes sharing a single location. To hold back on plans simply for the sake of this delusion would be to not put to sea for fear that there may, in fact, be dragons. We will go to Alpha Centauri. We will return, quite safely. I stake my career and my reputation on it.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Well, I know that makes me feel better. What’s the point of going out into space if there’s no getting home to share the good news? That’s it from me this week. Oh, except one thing, my usual cameragal Frankie asked me to let you know that her new series on the Mariana Trench begins next week. She’s going down there on a zoological mission to gather creatures for Sea World’s new high-pressure tank. Don’t you dare find Atlantis without me. I’m warning you.

That was Zoe Creed. Byeeeeeeeeeee.

PREVIOUS ISSUES:

ZOETROPE/1 - Siobhan Hartigan, Archeologist

ZOETROPE/2 - Zoe Vs. The Vomit Comet

ZOETROPE/3 - Malcolm Winters, Pilot

ZOETROPE/4 - Aboard The Daedalus-7

ZOETROPE/5 - Science Dive: How A Jump Drive Works (file not found)

[daedalicwest]

ZOETROPE/Issue 4

This newsletter sponsored by The Long Journey Home; the ultimate space adventure RPG. Coming soon…

I can’t believe I’m typing this, but… good morning/afternoon/night, all, this is Zoe Creed, and I’m typing this in my bunk aboard the Daedalus-7. At least, in the central pod of what’s going to be the Daedalus-7. The whole ship’s actually a modular construction - think super expensive LEGO - being built in pieces down here in Houston. Once they’ve got it down, IASA’s hoping for a fleet of at least four by 2080. Word here is that they’re calling it the Cardinal Pathfinder Project. One ship in each direction, shooting off to see what’s out there.

But that’s for then, and when this is someone else’s bunk. For now, let me show you around our new home. For at least a few days next year.

- ZC / November 8th, 2066

WELCOME ABOARD

Comfy looking, isn’t it? There’s Kirsten, Benoit, Simon and Nikolay checking out the living quarters, while the other half of the crew tour the more technical parts of the ship. I know you can’t see me on it, but I’m in that bunk on the top left right now, typing this. It’s more comfortable than it looks, even with the plastic sheeting. Memory foam mattress, a nice thick pillow... I could easily drift away right now. Not a whole lot of privacy though, as you can see. Mentioned that little fact to Chiaki – that’s IASA’s project manager on the Daedalus-7 – and she got this face that made me worry there’s team bonding scheduled for the not too distant future.

(Note to IASA: I am not falling backwards and hoping Benoit catches me. That is not a thing that is happening. Not with those mathematician arms.)

Anyway, those TVs are hooked right into all the ship’s systems. You could probably fly the ship from them if you wanted. That’s about it. For the final mission they’re hooking them up with several petabytes of entertainment, though that’s probably not going to be fitted for our jaunt. Current estimate is that we’re going to be away for about four days. About a day to go get some fuel from Schiaparelli on Mars – it’s still illegal to have it on Earth, and IASA figures we can handle a simple pick-up job with our basic training. Jump to Alpha Centauri. A couple of days to see the sights there. Back home.

Easy enough, right? They’ve thought of everything.

Almost everything. Like I said, privacy’s not exactly high on IASA’s list. There’s no curtain or anything to pull over the beds, if you want to get changed, you’ve got to go find a corner somewhere. Also, you see those doors at the back? Right, well, one’s the way to the engine room and lander bay – or will be. The other goes to the shower and toilets and both are… how can I put this? Yeah. A little more ‘social’ than I’m used to. Seriously, this ship’s worth untold billions, but all the engineers bothered fitting was one big empty room with four shower heads down the side, and another with four cold metal toilets just jutting out the wall. No partitions, no cubicles, no curtains. Grr. Another great bit of design from IASA’s engineering corps, where efficiency trumps people any day.

Anyway, what else? Oh, yeah. That couch is surprisingly comfortable for being covered in more plastic. Almost more comfortable than the beds, though you’d break your back trying to curl round it. Oh, and that cup on the table? Praise Jebus, we have coffee! I’m standing in front of the food dispenser, which mostly does what it can with synthetic bio-paste. If you’ve ever tried synthetic bio-paste, you’ll know that mostly what it does is look and taste like synthetic bio-paste. I’m told that once the ship’s assembled, they’ll be squeezing about five years worth of it into storage. Even IASA’s engineers aren’t cruel enough to deprive us of coffee though. Tastes like tar, but with caffeine! I’ll take that...

Anyway. That’s going to be our home for about a week, and Team Daedalus’s mission control for up to three years, once we’re all back on our beds and futons. In a couple of months, they’ll be airlifting all the pieces up into orbit with a couple of Schiaparelli Mining Consortium’s Landers to finally fit them together. For now, the ship under construction’s a bit like an old film set, minus the big green-screens. The living quarters are over in Hangar 1. Hangar 2’s where they’re putting together the engines. Hanger 3- you get the idea.

FINAL NOTES

This bed gets more comfortable the more I lie in it. Kinda want to just go to sleep and dream of space. It’s hard to imagine that after we get back, this ship will be going to other sectors – maybe even other galaxies. What incredible things will its final crew get to see? Aliens? Robot cultures? Great space battles? The ruins of ancient civilisations? Anything could be out there.

You know. If we just stole the ship and went on a joyride, there’s literally nothing IASA could do about it… A whole universe, just ours to explore…

I’m kidding, obviously. It’s an honour just to be part of the test flight. And next week, we’re back in preparation mode for that. 5AM start, 6AM, mandatory gym session. Urgh. Assuming I survive that, speak to you next week. And remember, check out the ZOETROPE archives on VirrTube, and ping me any questions or things you’d like to hear about at [email protected].

That was Zoe. Out.

PREVIOUS ISSUES:

ZOETROPE/1 - Siobhan Hartigan, Archeologist

ZOETROPE/2 - Zoe Vs. The Vomit Comet

ZOETROPE/3 - Malcolm Winters, Pilot

[daedalicwest]

ZOETROPE/Issue 3

This newsletter sponsored by The Long Journey Home; the ultimate space adventure RPG. Coming soon…

Hello from somewhere over the Atlantic! Zoe here, on the way to the US of A with the rest of the team to finally see the Daedalus-7 in its final stages of construction. That’s the ship that’s going to launch our team over to Alpha Centauri and back, before setting out with its permanent crew on a year long mission to explore. God, I wish I could be part of that. But hey, not complaining! We’ve not met the guys they’re planning to send on that mission, but just from the pictures they’re some of the toughest, smartest hombres you’re ever going to see. 

We’ll try not to break your ship, okay!

But more on that next week. Thanks to everyone who’s commented on last week’s vomit video. Really. Thanks a bunch. As ever, go check out the ZOETROPE archives on VirrTube, and ping me any questions or things you’d like to hear about at [email protected]. Yes, that’s still around. Yes, I know. I’ll get a new address when I’m back.

- ZC / November 1st, 2066

INTERVIEW: MALCOLM WINTERS, PILOT

Captain Winters joins us from the US Air Force, after a distinguished career as both test pilot and systems engineer. While somewhat outspoken about the mission, you won’t find anyone at IASA arguing that he’s not the best man to both prepare and pilot the attached lander.

ZOETROPE: We’ll get to the tech in a sec, but first – you’ve made no secret of your opposition to the Daedalus-7 flight, either in private or during press conferences. What’s the issue?

WINTERS: (Sigh) Look, it’s not the flight. It’s not the people. It’s not the tech. It’s what all of it means. We’re rushing into exploring the universe without asking the important questions, not least of them that if there is intelligent life out there, how can we possibly be ready? Maybe we’re just a particularly aggressive species, but primitive civilisations running into advanced ones don’t usually come out of it well. Still, we send probes, we send radio waves…. now we’re looking to send a ship?

Z: But that implies there are even aliens out there. What if we’re simply alone in the universe, and this is just a new way of gathering resources we don’t have access to? Or if there’s just, I don’t know, slime and bacteria?

W: If you ask me, that’d be for the best. But we can’t know. We’re opening Pandora’s Box just thinking about heading out there, with no idea what it might contain.

Z: So, why join the mission if you’re so opposed to it?

W: Orders, for starters. Though I almost tore them up. Would have done, if I’d thought it would have made any difference. But this flight’s happening, and for whatever reason the powers that be thought my help would maximize the chances of everyone making it home alive. I don’t know if that’s true. Hell if I know what they’re thinking. But if that’s the case, it’s my duty to live up to it.

Z: You’ve mostly been working on the Lander, right?

W: Yeah. The Daedalus-7 is all computers and maths, but the Lander requires precision and care. I’ve been working with the engineers to make it as safe as possible. If you’ve passed your driving test, you can fly the Lander.

Z: And, uh, if it took five attempts?

W: Then you can fly the Lander very, very carefully. (Laughs) But seriously, Zozo, you’re fine. I’ve seen you in the sims. Just stop using full thrust when you’re flipped. Ease it in, let physics do the work. That Lander’s fit for service on 90% of anticipated biomes. It’ll handle Mars and AC.

Z: Comforting, but I’ll let you pilot if that’s okay. Speaking of which, is there any truth that you and Commander Barrasso-

W: We’re friends and colleagues. That’s all.

Z: Really? Because some might say-

W: Ha. They can say what they want. A gentlemen never kisses and tells.

FINAL NOTES

The fasten seatbelt sign just came on, it’s time to put away the tablet and start sucking on a mint until my ears pop. At least it’s Kennedy’s own runway, so there won’t be much of a queue for customs. Next week then, a tour of the Daedalus-7 in all its glory. Can’t wait to show you round.

That was Zoe. Laters.

(P.S. Probably best not to ask what happened to Daedalus 1-6.)

PREVIOUS ISSUES:

ZOETROPE/1 - Siobhan Hartigan, Archeologist

ZOETROPE/2 - Zoe Vs. The Vomit Comet

[daedalicwest]

ZOETROPE/Issue 2

This newsletter sponsored by The Long Journey Home; the ultimate space adventure RPG. Coming soon…

Morning. Afternoon. Evening. Night. Thanks to Physics, I’m not feeling so great right now. Stomach’s already up in space. Hair’s still blue, only a shade closer to white. Seriously. Best day of my life. Let’s not repeat it any time soon, kay? More on that in just a moment. Thanks again for subscribing to the text-version of ZOETROPE, in association with IASA, as we count down the weeks to the Daedalus-7 mission next year. For the first time since flying out here, I’m actually starting to feel it. Zoe, girl, you’re actually going into space. This is a thing that’s happening, and it’s happening real soon.

God, I hope it’s not as messy up there. Anyway, as ever, go check out the ZOETROPE archives on VirrTube for all the latest vids and 360 degree pics I’ve been shooting, and ping me any questions or things you’d like to hear about at [email protected]. I know, retro. Still, I dig retro. You dig?

- ZC / October 25, 2066

ZOE VS. THE VOMIT COMET

“Don’t fight it. If you’re going to be sick, it’s happening.”

I glanced over at Commander Barrasso – Kirsten – as she finished belting into the rigging. Best of times, those weren’t comforting words. Never mind with a camera strapped half a metre from my face by Producer Frankie in the hope of catching the whole thing in glorious slow-mo. Her advice? “If you start feeling weird, just think of warm pork in the sun. Curdled milk in a butter churn-“

I’m asking for a new roommate.

It was 10AM at the Cologne facility, and we were Team A – myself, Commander Barrasso, Benoit, the scientist I’d not had much time to talk with yet, and what should have been Simon, only he’d decided this was a waste of his valuable time. It’s not like anyone at IASA’s going to tell a Schiaparelli VP that he can’t go on the flight his company spent billions on. Besides, the Daedalus-7 has the latest in gravity systems built in. This old-school flight into adventure was supposedly so we’d all at least have some zero-G experience in the event of a problem. Really, I’m calling hazing from the real astronauts. It’s not like they’ve been unfriendly, but… well, there’s a certain friction between our group of mostly civilians, and the guys who’ll be taking over once our quick trip is over. They’re going to be the real explorers, and they don’t let us forget it. We’re with the marketing department.

But screw ‘em. Politely and gently, of course.

The Vomit Comet’s a particularly old-fashioned training device, but it still works and is still cheaper than sending up a shuttle. The basic idea is that you go up-diddly-up into the atmosphere, around 35 thousand feet. Then, down-diddly-down. The parabolic flight-path gives everyone aboard around 30 seconds of weightlessness, then gravity catches on. Rinse. Repeat for about two hours. Officially, IASA calls them Weightless Wonders. You can guess why they’re better known as Vomit Comets.

Kirsten squeezed my hand as the engines revved up. I gave her a weak smile, suddenly regretting this. Weirdly, she seemed most excited by this than the rest of us, despite being the woman with more hours logged at both ISS platforms than anyone else. “Imagine getting out of a bath to be told you can never have one again,” she said, gesturing to the big empty space in the gutted plane. “Then, five years later, you’re offered a go in the most opulent jacuzzi you’ve ever seen.”

She didn’t need to say more. One of the unspoken rules of the project is we don’t talk about her recent diagnosis. At least, not casually. The day we got official word that she’d been cleared for the Daedalus-7, Miriam threw a small party. Cue Benoit pointing out her survival chances were at least 90% better if she started the chemo then, not afterwards. She didn’t care. Not even a little.

For the moment though, I thought of me. Trying not to dribble for the camera as we got up to speed. Shooting a glance at Frankie over in her harness, clearly itching to get her phone free and start taking video. Thankfully, not long to wait. We unhooked from our rigs after takeoff and everyone was ordered to lie down on the well padded floor in the main part of the plain.

“Everybody ready?”

A chorus of approval. Our team. The IASA science team there for real work. A few students who’d won a competition. And then… the floor fell away from my back with my stomach along for the ride and-

I just started laughing, camera in face completely forgotten. I’d expected it to be like- hell, I’d never expected it to be like this, but I think in my head, even with my physics degree, that I expected it’d be like swimming underwater, not kicking against nothing. And then, it was over. Gravity caught up with us and I fell on my butt on the padded floor, still laughing. Soon enough, back we went.

Benoit was regretting it already. But Kirsten – Kirsten was like a mermaid, only without the tail, the clamshell bra, the water…. Okay, look, bad example. But you know what I mean. It’s not just that she moved through it with such practiced ease, but the look on her face that said “I’m home.” While the rest of us did 360 degree flips and Superman flights and standing on the ceiling, she basked in the raw sensation and only really stopped to lend a hand to someone who needed it.

This, I thought, was amazing. No problem at all!

But here’s the thing. Turns out it’s not the initial sense of weightlessness that gets you, but the constant stop and start. I’d skipped breakfast this morning for obvious reasons and thought, ha, loophole. With a sudden burp, the remains of yesterday’s dinner made their presence known. Oh, shit, I thought, suddenly very aware of that camera. Look. As long as I wasn’t the first to break, at least I figured some honour would be retained. True enough, most of the non-astronauts amongst us were looking a little bit green around the gills at this point. Benoit was sweating hard. Frankie was holding onto the rigging. Kirsten was… obviously, Kirsten was absolutely bloody fine.

Still, I swam across to Frankie, my phone recording. “Warm pork,” I whispered.

“Zoe!”

“Curdled milk…  Churning butter…”

And it would have been the perfect crime... if being violently sick wasn’t more contagious than the average bubonic plague outburst. But I’m guessing you’ve already seen the Slow-Mo-Zoe-Heave-Ho video Frankie locked me out of our room to upload. If not, don’t be eating. If it’s too late, sorry.

And sorry, IASA, I did my best. I’ll try to do better on your new ship. Pinky-swear..

FINAL NOTES

That’s all for now, folks. Gotta cut things a bit short so I can lie down for a few hours. Head’s still spinning. Don’t get me wrong, I’d not change today for anything… but I’ll definitely look back on it more fondly after eating… something. Sorry. Even thinking about eating something is…

Bluuuuumph…

Sorry, Zoe gotta go. Signing out... as fast as possible...