Valentine

SPACE TRAVEL IS BORING

Written by A.C. VALENTINE
Dedicated to Aunt Mossie. Thank you for always being so supportive.
You were the first person I wanted to bring my story to.
I'll love & miss you forever.

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A/N: My first short story. Title is from the song of the same name, specifically the cover by Sun Kill Moon (sorry Modest Mouse). The story is heavily inspired by the song, so please take a listen when you have time. I'll have another note at the end for my thoughts/things that inspired this story, just didn't want to spoil anything. Enjoy!

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My eyes are sticky when I wake up.
I pry them open with the sluggish force of my muscles as I sit up in my pod, the sliding glass doors opening. I stretch, feeling some of my bones pop, settling into place under my skin.
Sleep inertia begins to settle in already, pulling a groan out of me as I pry myself out of my makeshift tomb like some ancient creature.
I undo the fastenings on my helmet, disconnecting it from my suit with a hiss, taking in that first breath of fresh air.
It always feels like being born again.
...even if the “fresh” air is stagnant--- clinging to my body as I try to get used to my legs again, forever grateful that at least my eyes don’t sting in space.

WELCOME STATE 15 PARTICIPANT, ASTRO AGENT #0.8.

THE TIME IS 09:00 HOURS. ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL.

Bright flashes of lights bombard me from the overhead screen, the text scrolling, welcoming me to my home for the next few months.
The hum of machinery greets my ears as I walk from the small arrival bay and into the living quarters, my favorite sound, the small quiet.

Looking around my quarters, everything’s in place from when I was here last, thankfully. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if something was moved.
That would mean someone’s been here. As far as I’m aware, the Federation only sends one person a year… and I’m the person for my state!
The pay’s shit but it’s the one thing I look forward to every year.
It’s like a vacation. Even if they don’t exist anymore.
Shaking my head of my wandering thoughts, I start on my first task. My shoes scuff against the shiny floor. The blinding white interior of the station always takes a bit to get adjusted to. I blink rapidly as I snag my tablet on the way to my destination.

Station #15 is small.
Small, but bigger than my place on Earth.
The doors slide open--- revealing the largest part of the station. The server room.
Rows and rows of gleaming black towers almost as tall as me adorn any and every open space here. Walking down the stairs with a spring in my step, I start from the left, checking and logging every server’s status.
Moving to the other side, like clockwork, I sidestep the pit and its ladder. I’ll have to head down there later to retrieve the supply cache Command sent up, but I tend to put it on the bottom of my task list, the dock is cramped and feels like a crawlspace.
Not to mention, it’s where the tether to Earth is. I’m always terrified I’ll bump into it and send myself floating off in orbit.

When I finish, I sign my name at the bottom of the server report, sending it in. Heading back into the living quarters, I slot my tablet into the computer desk, letting the machines communicate as I move onto my second most important task.

Covering up the mirror.

It observes from above the sink, right across from my bed, the makeshift kitchen crammed together with all the necessities. The vapor-washer & dryer, fridge, countertop, sink--- all tied together with that stupid mirror.
I throw a spare bedsheet over it, tying it together under the bottom edge, careful not to get it tangled with the wires behind it. As much as I’d love to pull them out.
I dust my hands out of habit when I’m done. Technically, nothing really gets dusty up here, so I don’t need to worry about cleaning much. Gravity stabilizers keep the place from turning into a wreck.

Turning to my work station, I crack my knuckles, trying not to be too giddy as I sit down and turn on my computer. I quickly log in--- pulling up one of my favorite parts of this job.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

[[ SEPTEMBER 1ST ]]

[MORNING LOG]

- Good morning Command! I’m happy to be back in your clutches again.
- The trip up was fine, though the panacea given to us always makes me groggy.
- Nothing a few powdered drinks can’t fix!
- Okay! Let’s get to it.
- According to the summer idle logs, nothing seems to be wrong, just a few minor things that I can fix back in the server room.
- Current observation status for the servers is green.
- Will report back with tether status.
- Hands on synop of the servers is currently uploading.
- Going to retrieve the supply cache now.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The wheels on my chair click against the tile when I slide back. I spin and propel myself towards the window, my shoe skidding my movement to a stop, and I look down at Earth.
At UNITED.
The station’s current orbital level doesn’t stop me from catching glimpses of landmarks across the states. Buildings, other station tethers, broken statues and the heavy blanket of smog.
My station is tethered to Command building #15, keeping me responsible for my state’s servers and communications.

“I’ll be home soon buddy.” I murmur, softly tracing a heart on the thick glass, careful not to leave a smudge. Turning my attention back to my small, temporary home, I exhale--- dreading having to go outside to check the tether.

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[[ SEPTEMBER 5TH ]]

[MORNING LOG]

- Good morning Command!
- I hope everyone’s doing well down below.
- I just finished getting everything cozy in here again.
- Sorry in advance, Command. I know it’s hard for the AI to cut personal thoughts from the log. I’ll try to keep an eye on my word count--- but who else will I spill my thoughts to? :)
- Week one of this trip is officially done.
- Everything has been running efficiently, excluding the random leaps of communication channels, which is to be expected. It happened last winter as well.
- No problems to report!
- …Unless you count me missing my dog terribly. It’s a shame we can’t bring anything up here with us.
- I’d love a little photo of Barney to keep me company. But that would be too much personalization of the workstation, wouldn't it?
- Ms. Marie, my neighbor, is always excited to keep an eye on him when I travel up. She deserves a little happiness, especially how her last job assignment left her. I wonder if the Federation would ever consider a retirement program for the people?
- Wishful thinking, I know. They know what’s best for us.

═══════════════════

[AFTERNOON LOG]

- Afternoon reports are currently being uploaded.
- I was thinking, when I go back home, maybe I should pick up writing? A fictional story?
- AI can easily do it, sure, but when was the last time a human published something?
- It could be interesting. I was thinking of doing something with my earlier idea. The main character returns from a long trip and… everything is slightly the same. Things are just a bit off. His carpet is a cooler shade of grey. The cracks in the concrete are reversed.
- Food for thought, food for thought…

═══════════════════

[EVENING LOG]

- Evening reports are already uploaded and signed.
- Now, speaking of food---
- I’m planning on eating the lasagna packet for dinner tonight. I hope it’s better than the last ones.
- I try to save the better ones for the last part of the trip. That cake packet is calling my name though…
- Once I go, reluctantly, check and adjust the tether I'll upload and sign the final report of the day.

═══════════════════

[ADDL. LOG]

- Unfortunately, reporting that the lasagna one still disagrees with my stomach.
- I'll mark it on the agent health report.
- Goodnight Command.

// END REPORT //

[[ SEPTEMBER 17TH ]]

[MORNING LOG]

- One of the servers overheated last night. Server G [0.1.1] #5.

- Issue was repaired with repair protocol #GR301-937-GC1.

#NOTIF. AI.

- I would like to report an Anomaly Concern.
- #AC branching from Agent 0.8 experience and knowledge. Mandatory acknowledgement of probable human error from memory.
- AC REPORT: I’ve never had a generator overheat during down hours and in the middle of off season. Generators tend to overheat more during peak seasons, see previous December logs, and during major world events. As of now no major events have been reported to me or other winter agents. All machinery inside the servers are in quality condition, albeit aged.

- Due to overheating, some parts in the X-III sector of the server burned out. Seems to be due to a flash, or a data surge, such as rapid communications.
- Agent 0.8, self, will keep monitoring server G[0.01] #5 and will report any and all further malfunctions.
- Please, I am begging these machines, please do not let there be any further burnouts.

═══════════════════

[[ AFTERNOON LOG ]]

- I’ve been browsing online discussions all day trying to figure out what might’ve caused that server to overheat last night.
- No new popular movies, scandals or anything that I can find.
- Thankfully I don’t think it was another terror attack.
- Last year was a mess with all the attacks, multiple machines of mine just kept overheating and burning out. I almost couldn’t keep up with it.
- But I did! And I got a fancy upgrade to my apartment for helping keep productivity up during peak stress levels for my Class. Courtesy of the Federation.
- Barney and I don't sweat as much as we used to in the summer now because of the upgrade. We get air conditioning for the ENTIRE peak UV hours.
- This is also why I like to work up here during winter.
- I don’t have the heat upgrade or subscription for my apartment, so it tends to get really cold, and I think Barney is developing arthritis.
- Ms. Marie next door does have the heating subscription though, so it’s a win-win. Barney gets to be comfortable, and I don’t have to be cold!
- A lot of other agents don’t like to work during the cold months like me, because the earth is just so hot, it’s a blessing that winters exist anymore.
- I’m reaching my word count already. D*mn. I really ho-/ -#0100

//ERROR: WORD COUNT REACHED FOR AFTERNOON LOG//

[[ COUNTER OVERRIDE-LOG ]]

- Server G[0.1.1] #5 has been logged as stable.
- Sorry Command, I figured out the override password again :)

// NO FURTHER LOGS ARE RECORDED FOR THIS DATE //
// END REPORT //

[[ OCTOBER 21ST ]]

[MORNING LOG]

- Servers have been running decent but some have been flickering or lagging.
- I still haven't received a response from Command or the AI, so my best, “human guess”, would be a power surge?
- I would prefer if a human would respond though. The AI always routes for common responses, not nuances.

[AI BYPASS REQUEST #703]

- AGENT 0.8 REQUEST: I would like confirmation from human Command personnel that the previous anomaly report was caused by a power surge.
- AGENT 0.8 SUGGESTION: Confirm with other agent stations in neighboring states and compare with further agent stations. If necessary, I will pay the communication fee with the further states from my personal commissary funds. I will try to contact neighboring agents through my radio as well. I understand that AI is preferred due to lack of error, but I would like human eyes on this, just in case.

═══════════════════

[AFTERNOON LOG]

- I started reading one of my new paperbacks. I had it sent up with the most recent care package. (Before I started being collectively ignored…)
- The book is called “The Time Machine” by H.G. Wells. This is one of the few books of his I was able to get my hands on. It's got a Federation approval stamp, don’t worry.
- It’s interesting so far, if a little… odd. How did people come up with this stuff back then?
- A lot of my coworkers at the factory, the place I work in the summer, think stuff written by humans is too complicated. I think, once you read a few books, you get used to it. I like the unpredictability and quirks of human writing. With the generated stuff you get at learning centers, it’s all… similar? I feel like you can pick out what AI persona wrote the same books, y’know?
- I wish I could find the human written books with “dangerous” writing in it. I know we’re allowed to have them but collectors keep the physical, and legible, versions jacked up in price. I can barely find an affordable paperback that doesn’t reek of smoke or isn’t charred in some places.
- “The Time Machine” has some water damage, but thankfully most of the words are legible still, even if the ink has bled in some places.
- I am running out of storage space at the apartment for my books. I’ve already started wedging some in the pantry…

═══════════════════

[EVENING LOG]

- Servers have maintained normal status for the most part.
- Some are lagging terribly though, I'm not sure what's throttling them.
- The tooltip AI on my tablet keeps giving me annoying responses. None that are helpful or actually fix the issue.
- I'll set an alarm to check on them mid sleep cycle. Hopefully Command will get back to me soon.

// END REPORT //

[[ NOVEMBER 3RD ]]

[MORNING LOG]

- Command, will you pretty, pretty, pretty please respond? Respond _{to my} requests :) :) :)
- Seriously, I’m not even trying to bother you guys just to talk this time, I do have requests that need to be processed without AI.
- And maybe I do need to hear a human voice.
- Before you ask, yes, I've been trying to speak with neighboring states. I haven’t had any responses, and there hasn't been any radio chatter.
- A lot of the other agents tend to be hermits, which is understandable, I guess. But still, I usually get a response, at least from Chuck.
- You could not pay me to talk to this stupid mirror in here though. I think they’re terrifying. It offers my reflection, sure, but why would I want to talk to myself?
- Oh… what if my reflection gets out and walks around when I’m not here? Hmm… and that could explain why things move!

- When the man returns from a long trip, and things have moved around in his home, it’s because something has emerged from his mirror!

[AI OVERRIDE #USFXX-00X-91]

// ::editstringline5:: line 5 line 6 read date 5 ignore input //

- AI is not stealing my ideas, sorry Command. Fine me, whatever.

═══════════════════

[[ EVENING LOG ]]

- Command finally responded.
- But not for my main request.
- I got fussed at. Again.
- Criticizing the AI is apparently a big no no… whoopsie. So is hiding my ideas.
- You'd think I would've learned by now but it wasn’t this strict last year? And everyone was so much more chatty.
- It's like the fun has been drained from everyone.
- “The mirror AI is there for human comfort---” blah blah, just say it’s here to stop me from going crazy. Sorry that the Federation can’t afford a01-/#0000

// DATA ENTRY REMOVED DUE TO DETECTION OF VULGAR STATEMENTS AGAINST THE FEDERATION AND COMPANY POLICY. //

// AGENT 0.8 – REPEATED PENALTY STRIKE – REPORTED FOR REVIEW. //

// NO FURTHER LOGS ARE RECORDED FOR THIS DATE //
// END REPORT //

[[ NOVEMBER 31ST ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- Procedure is normal. Agent 0.8 health, nutrition and mental status logged.

- Agent 0.8 report of anomalies in servers G[0.0.0] #3, G[0.01] #27 and G[0.1.0] #91.
- Again, would like official confirmation of anomaly being related to power surges or events on earth, all agent channels are unresponsive or unaware of any current events. Please advise.

// AFTERNOON & EVENING LOGS ABSENT //
// NO FURTHER LOGS ARE RECORDED FOR THIS DATE //
// END REPORT //

[[ DECEMBER 11TH ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- Procedure is normal. Agent 0.8 health, nutrition and mental status logged.
- All servers are in green status.

- AGENT 0.8 REQUEST: I would like official confirmation of anomalies being related to power surges or events on earth. Please advise.
- Servers #1 through #97 are in green status. Servers #99 through #105 are in yellow.
- All maintenance has been performed. Server recovery should proceed smoothly overnight.

═══════════════════

[[AFTERNOON LOG]]

- AGENT 0.8 REQUEST: I would like official confirmation of anomalies being related to power surges or events on earth. Please advise.

═══════════════════

[[EVENING LOG]]

- AGENT 0.8 REQUEST: I would like official confirmation of anomalies being related to power surges or events on earth. Please advise.
- AGENT 0.8 REQUEST: I would like previous requests responded to.

// END REPORT //

[[ DECEMBER 19TH ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- Procedure is normal. Agent 0.8 health, nutrition and mental status logged.
- Servers #1 through #103 are in green status.
- Server #105 is in yellow.

- AGENT 0.8 REQUEST: I would like official confirmation of anomalies being related to power surges or events on earth. Please advise.
- AGENT 0.8 REQUEST: I would like previous requests responded to.

═══════════════════

[[AFTERNOON LOG]]

- UNITED always looks so small from up here.
- How did we use to run it all before AI? Before technology? Was it easier?

// NO FURTHER LOGS ARE RECORDED FOR THIS DATE //
// END REPORT //

[[ DECEMBER 25TH ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- I haven’t slept much. The servers are overheating quicker than I can catch.
- Two fuses have already burned out. I will request more from the inventory bot. Which will take from my pay, but it's whatever at this point, I just need to get everything cooled down. All the heat generated from the servers is making me sweat.
- That bot travels between stations, so it has no excuse to ignore me.

═══════════════════

[[EVENING LOG]]

- I've been running around all day. This is the only time I've had to rest.
- I finished my paperback before writing this log, I really just needed a break. The ending was nice. Or at least I thought so. I like that we don't get closure with the time traveler.
- Anyways, according to my calendar, today would’ve been Christmas. Before the collapse. That's why I buy this specific calendar brand, it tells me what was celebrated by everyone on certain days back then. Well, not everyone, apparently there were multiple fanaticisms before. In the learning center, they tell us those "Religions" are what helped guide us before AI was invented. I think? I can’t remember. My head has been pounding today.
- One thing I do know is that some of the upper echelon Classes still celebrate holidays. I hear them brag about it on TV all the time.
- Barney and I will get to celebrate one day. I’ll make sure of it. I'm not staying in this Class forever.

// AFTERNOON LOG ABSENT //
// NO FURTHER LOGS ARE RECORDED FOR THIS DATE //
// END REPOR̴̥̿ //

[[ FEBRUARY 31ST ]]

[[EVENING LOG]]

- GOODBYE COMMAND! It’s my last day here. I’m sure you guys will be happy to have me gone.
- I've stabilized all the servers at this time.
- Whoever has my job next, hats off to you, have fun with these damn servers. They’ve been a pain in my ass this winter.
- I don’t think they'll let me back next year.
- Honestly? I'm glad. I don’t want to come back here. I do all of this work for extra income and I'm penalized for being ignored? For wanting to write or read? By the time I get my check, all the deductions they’ve taken out will nullify any profit I would’ve made.
- At least at the factory, I think I'm going to be promoted. Which will let me into Third Class, give me an autonomy card, I’ll be paid more AND I'll finally be able to get a place that has more than just one singular room to live in.
- I think Barney will love it. He really needs the space.
- Take care, station. I guess Command too. Whoever takes care of this station next, read the paperback I left in storage. It won’t disappoint.

// MORNING & AFTERNOON LOGS ABSENT //
// NO FURTHER LOGS ARE RECORDED FOR THIS DATE //
// END REPORT //

I sigh, logging off for the last time. I look down at earth, barely registering the arrival of the supply cache, an orange light flashing in my reflection on the window. Reorienting myself, I stretch, shaking myself off as I head into the server room. Making quick work of the ladder, I crouch, locking and sealing the hatch for supply cache’s. My head bumps against the ceiling of the bay, forcing a grimace on my lips.Back up in the living quarters, I take my time eating my favorite meal, a small chocolate cake in a mug– warmed by the microwave. Everything else I rush to get done, my hands sweaty, antsy at the prospect of returning home.
Suiting up, I fasten my helmet on, stuffing my notes for my novel into the interior breast pocket of my suit.
I input the code for a return request on the keypad by my pod and the doors slide open. Stepping inside, I hook hoses up to my suit, then slowly lay my head back. My neck clicks into the lock, feeling a cylinder slide into its designated tunnel at the base of my skull, goosebumps spreading on my skin as I feel the panacea injector prick me.
The doors slide close.
And the mechanical depressor forces the needle to shlick into my flesh.
I keep my eyes focused on anything but the warm feeling of sedatives pulling my consciousness under gradually.
Squinting, I’m barely able to see the doodles I’ve smudged onto the glass in the living quarters.
“I’ll be home soon buddy.”The smell of dust and stale coffee leaves me, replaced by an invasive ozone, and I close my eyes.

[[ MA̸̞͍̺̠͂̑RCH 7TH ]]

[[??? LOG]]

- I'm still on the station.

═══════════════════

[[AFTERNOON LOG]]

- Command’s not responding. No one’s responding. Though, I can assume why. UNITED is in a total blackout. It’s all just smoke down below. Black smoke, not the smog we usually have.
- I can’t see any fires, if there are any. It’s like…an active stillness. Like looking at stagnant water– alluring yet treacherous.
- I’m going to keep trying to get someone, or anything to respond. An AI bot? A human? Another agent??
- I’ll keep progress logs on here, but there shouldn’t be too long of a delay. They know there’s people up here.
- I don’t know why the other stations still aren’t responding.
I know some of them are shut-ins, but… really? Ignoring emergency calls?

═══════════════════

[[EVENING LOG]]

- Maybe there’s a malfunction in something… somewhere. The system says the date is March 7th. But that can’t be right. I just went into the pod. Though… I was pretty hungry when I got out. I had to eat one of the high-nutrition meals already. I didn’t even bother cooking it, I just shoveled the powder out with my hands.
- It felt like my stomach was trying to eat itself.
- I’ve a theory that there’s just a really bad smog storm going on. They happen every so often, I’ve just never been up here when we had one. Usually things resolve in a few days. Electronics get funky too, so that’s probably why I haven’t heard anything.

// END REPORT //

[[ MARCH 33RD ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- I started reading my paperback again.
- I’m finding a lot of details I didn’t notice before. Like how the time traveler, before he tells his story, is hungry for real meat and his clothes are disheveled. It shows what he’s gone through before he even starts his story.

═══════════════════

[[AFTERNOON LOG]]

- I keep trying to distract myself until Command or… anyone responds. When I look at the status map for all of the UNITED stations, almost all are in the green, and have an occupied status.
- So if the other winter agents are still up here too, why haven’t they responded?
- State #27 keeps flashing. The light is flickering between occupied and empty. I would assume it's a bad bulb, but it’s been flashing since I got out of the pod. I'll see if I can establish communication with them specifically.

═══════════════════

[[EVE_ GEN.LOG _X LOG]]

- I was able to connect with station 27's radio comms. Kinda.
- It's static, but there's muffled speech in the back. Someone’s talking in there.
- If anything happens, or I’m able to make contact, I'll report back.

// END PORT //

[[APRIL 1ST]]

[[EVENING LOG]]

- I think it’s time to accept the fact that I was inside that pod for a week straight. I’ve just been in denial. I still don’t want to accept it but the dates in the system aren’t wrong.
- I did the math, and besides a few date errors, I think it all adds up. I requested a return, and stayed in that pod being drugged on loop until… it opened? Did it have a failsafe?
- That’s where I’m doubting myself. There has to be a failsafe in that thing, I haven’t looked or found the download for the manual, but if there is one it would explain how it just let me out.
- But on the other hand, why didn’t it kick in sooner? Why did it wait for so long?
- When I get back I’ll report it to the R&D team.
- …If I go back.
- No one’s responded yet.

// END ERPORT //

[[ APRIL 11TH ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- I used to like the silence. Maybe I still do, but not like this. There still hasn’t been any word or communication from anyone.
- The “talking” that I was hearing from station #27 seems to just be a recording. I’m sure I’ll try to piece it together later but… not right now. I don’t think I can stomach the fact I might be alone up here.
- Not knowing what happened below is just… nerve wracking. I can see UNITED more clearly now, but there’s… nothing. Honestly, nothing’s changed. No craters from big asteroids, no big bomb impacts, nothing. I want to say my theory about the smog is correct but… that black fog? It’s just turned into ash. White ash.
- Or is it snow? It could be snow, it shimmers in the sunlight.
- Why would there be snow in summer?

═══════════════════

[[AFTERNOON LOG]]

- What if they’re all gone?

═══════════════════

[[EVENING LOG]]

- The snow glitters at night too. Probably from the artificial moonlight.
- Around the same time though, at 00:00, that fog rolls back in. It seems to vanish by the time I’m awake.
- When the fog does blanket everything, it’s not pitch-black anymore. There’ll be random spurts of flashing lights. Like fireworks.
- Or maybe gunfire?
- I feel ridiculous asking myself these questions. It’s not going to do anything productive, just cause me to worry more. I’m going to just try to start sleeping the questions off so I don’t get trapped in my head.

// END REPORT //

[[ APRIL 011111111111111111111111111011111111111111111111111111111111111

[[MORNING LOG]]

- No one’s responded.
- Even when I fuck around with the AI on my log system, it’s not reporting vulgar language or even hostile statements towards the company.
- I’m tempted to take the cover off of the mirror, but a part of me is scared to. What if nothing’s there?
- It might be worse if there is.

═══════════════════

[[AFTERNOON LOG]]

- I don’t know if anyone is reading these logs. Live or… in the future. If a higher being exists, please don’t let me become a warning for others. Fuck the others, honestly.
- I’m not some brave hero. I don’t want to die for others, for people I don’t even fucking know. I’m just human. I’m human and I miss my dog.
- I know my words might seem nonchalant. I feel like I’m underreacting. What can I do though? Besides panic and whittle away at my own psyche?
- I’m scared.
- Scared for myself. Scared for the life I have below. What about Ms. Marie? And my Barney? Fuck. Are they alive? Did they die together? Are they suffering???
- I’ve been trying not to hyperventilate and overthink. It should be over soon. It should be over soon. The company will take care of us. Of me.
- I’m a good worker. I’ve never been late. I just have a few irregularities in my speech and writing patterns, but they’re aware. They know. And they promoted me. The Federation did.
- I’m important down there and up here. I’m one of the few who can still do jobs the machines can’t.
- I’m important. They can’t take away the only thing I have going for me, it’s my life, they’d be killing me-- tossing me in some heap
- . . .
- I need to stop thinking like this.

// END LOG //

[[MAY 3RD]]

[[AFTERNOON LOG]]

- I did learn… something.
- Nothing that really helps.
- I jailbroke my computer, got the AI in my computer to respond.
- It told me that Command never accepted my return request.
- The way it worded it… It sounded like they denied my request.
- They can’t do that though, right? Command knows I’m up here? It would be against the SUSTAIN ACT surely…Unless they accepted everyone’s request but mine?
- . . .
- Maybe the AI can clarify. There’s obviously an emergency happening. Plus, it says the other agents haven’t left either.
- Surely this thing isn’t trying to scare me. I know it can give false responses, not as much as it used to, but… still.

// END REPORT //

[[ MAY 23RD ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- Nothing's changed.
- I've slowed down on showering to save on water.
- Even supply requests have been ignored. If there’s no humans, that’s understandable.
- But the AI… why didn’t the AI respond to my supply requests? Unless it's all offline? How would the station be running if that was the case?
- How would I have been able to talk to the one on my computer?
- All I have is just question upon fucking question.

═══════════════════

[[EVENING LOG]]

- I miss Barney. I'm worried about him. My Barney.
- I woke up because I thought I heard him barking.
- It wasn’t him.
- What actually forced me up was loud booms below. It sounded like the crack of thunder. Over and over again.
- I couldn't see anything below when it stopped. When it was happening, I just stayed in bed, frozen. Staring into the endless void of white that is the ceiling, my heart beating so fast I thought it was going to give.
- When I finally peeled myself out from the covers I peeked out of the window.
- The fog was there, as expected, but it had bloomed out in weird circuit-like shapes.
- Some of it almost reaches up here. It’s like I’m barely out of its reach and it’s stretching itself to get me.
- I just want to go home. I want everything to go back to normal.

═══════════════════

[[MOURNING LOG]]

- I think the mirror is whispering to me.
- I really don't want to take the cover off. But I might have to.
- I know it’s not fully offline now. If I’m not hallucinating the whispers.
- Maybe it knows something? Maybe it can tell me if there’s a malfunction with the systems? See if it gives me the same response as my computer?
- I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. My head hurts. I haven't been able to sleep after the booms. I know I need to sleep. Before I go crazy.
- I'll try to sleep again. Put the pillow over my ears.

// END //

[[ MAY 25TH ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- I took the cover off of the mirror.
- The reflection… I think it’s supposed to be reflecting me? But where they’ve installed the 3D AI model, it’s just… uncanny.
- I asked if it knows what’s going on. I’ll attach my recording here.

[[ASTRO-AGENT -0.8- REC.]]

The screen flickers to life, the video starting.
Astro Agent 0.8’s eyes flick up to the mirror in front of her. The reflection tracks her movements, a playful smile on its face as it taps its chin in thought.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” :AI

The AI responds to a question Astro has presumably asked before recording. Astro sets the camera down on a surface, capturing both her and the mirror.

ASTRO: “Why wasn’t I sent back to Earth? To State #15?”

“According to date and time records, you are the summer agent. You are not scheduled to be sent back until--” :AI

ASTRO: "No! You piece of scrap--- I arrived on September 1st. I am the winter agent!”

Astro’s voice is elevated. Her movements indicate frustration.

ASTRO: “This station does not have a summer agent. Something’s wrong, there’s a malfunction, there’s something happening down on Earth!”

Tears run down Astro’s cheeks, contrasting her reflection in the mirror, who is smiling--- looking at her like one does an insolent child.

ASTRO: “No one is responding. Can you not communicate with Command? Or the other AI systems? Other stations?”

The reflection changes, nodding.

“...I see. I understand your frustration, Agent. As a wellbeing measure, let’s keep our emotions in check, it would hinder productivity to let panic take over.” :AI

The mirror wears a compassionate face, links and articles to breathing techniques, managing emotions in the workplace, and similar reading materials popping up on the sides of the mirror.

“Let me try communicating with Command and sister systems.
One moment please.” :AI

The mirror goes blank momentarily. The reflection flickers back, holding a cellphone to its ear, humming as if waiting. A rotating circle pulses at the base of the mirror.

Astro paces, her eyes flickering back and forth from the camera to the mirror. Her hands shake, each pace towards the camera revealing bitten fingernails, skin and bloody cuticles.

“Agent? Unfortunately, at this time, all communication systems are busy. Please try again later." :AI

ASTRO: “Try again now.”

She runs a hand over her face, the mirror frowning for once before putting on another smile, its eyes catching the camera briefly before resuming the calling pose.

“There seems to be an issue with connecting you to someone. Please try again later.” :AI

Astro yells, throwing silverware at the mirror, the pieces still wet from the sink. They clang and clatter, falling back down into the basin and over the side. She holds her head in her hands, a wailing sob escaping her before the recording stops.

- I’ll save you the next few minutes of my breakdown.
- The mirror is covered back up. It’s not any help. Nothing is.
- Why did we ever make something so redundant? It rules over everything. It’s everywhere. How did we let something without morals govern our existence?

═══════════════════

[[EVENING LOG]]

- I’ve been able to slowly piece together some parts of what I’m hearing in #27.

- "They’-- --- ---- ---- come for you. -- one’s ------ -- save ---"

- It sounds like someone’s sent help? It’s an automated message from what I can hear.
- Who knows how long it’s been playing though.

// END REPORT //

[[ JUNE 3RD ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- I may have to start sleeping in the pod.
- I’m officially out of food. I still have some water left, but once that runs out, I know I’m fucked.
- If I sleep in the pod, the drugs will put me to sleep and keep me alive for a few days, then the failsafe should wake me up. If it doesn’t? At least I don’t have to feel myself starve to death.
- It doesn’t help that the AI in the mirror keeps whispering. Only at night. It won’t shut up. I’d rather just take the chances of never waking up, compared to waking up because of some freaky ass robot.

// END ROPROT //

[[ JUNE 13TH ]]

[[MORNING LOG]]

- I spent the last few days in the pod. Still… nothing.
- This log is my only form of communication. And it’s with myself.
- The only thing I dreamed about in the pod was Barney. I’m worried to death about him. He’s the only good thing in my life. Everything else could cease to exist as long as I have my baby.
- He’s a smart boy, I just have to keep telling myself that. I’m sure he found a way out. Maybe Ms. Marie is with him.
- But honestly… I doubt she is. The poor woman could hardly get around on her own.
- Sure shows what a life of service gets you.

═══════════════════

[[ X_TIME-GEN. LOG]]

- I remember when Barney was a puppy.
- The Federation assigned me Barney because I reached top performer status in both work and social life. It meant that I was important enough, stable enough, to care for another being.
- Before Barney, I’d never seen a real dog before. Just read about them in books.
- At first, I was scared. He was so small, fragile and clumsy. He wasn’t robotic at all and didn't move stiffly like the watch dogs. He has reactions to things, different things… all the time. I’d get annoyed with him on nights I had to work. I wish I didn’t.
- The Federation gave him a filter mask to wear when we’d walk to work together. His mask matches mine. Everyone loved to pet him on our commute.
- Sometimes I would take the long way, just to see people happy. Barney loves it too. His tail goes a mile a minute…

═══════════════════

[[EVENING LOG]]

- One of his favorite things to bark at when he was a puppy was the drones. He hated those things. I had to train him not to bark at them. So he found a new fixation. Scrap metal.
- There’s usually loose pipe and metal strips along the sidewalks, and he just carries them around like they’re all his. I love when he tries to take an obnoxiously large one. It makes me laugh just thinking about the last time he tried to carry one home, it just kept clanking against the sidewalk the whole way home. I couldn’t keep a straight face. I still can’t.
- Sometimes, at night, I would sneak out at curfew and we’d throw a plastic pipe back and forth. He loves it.
- And when I’d get scared, and run inside, he’d always be right there. He knows when I get scared, when I get overwhelmed.
- He was always there.

[[OVEROVER]]

- I wish he was here. I wish I was home. Under the blankets with him, reading him my books.
-
-
-
- I can smell the phantom scent of heat from my dryer in these sheets, yet I’ve never felt more cold.

/% ER 0R //

[[ JUNE 17ND ]]

[[ LOG ]]

- It was screaming.
- The mirror was fucking screaming.
- I fell asleep outside of the pod for once, and it just went haywire. It didn’t stop until I pulled the sheet off.
- And the reflection… It doesn’t look like me anymore. I can't remember if it ever did.
- I feel like it’s mad at me, for covering it up so much. It’ll just ignore my questions and act like I’m crazy.
- And it keeps smiling at me, no matter what I ask it, no matter the context anymore.
- I can’t cover it up again. Even if it just stares.

[[00/00/00100001000]]

[[ OFF ]]

- Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. But I think I hear bells below. On Earth, sometimes.
- I can’t go crazy though. Not this soon. I still have water. I think.
- At worst, I can eat the pages out of my book.
- I don’t have enough support left in my pod to keep sleeping in it. Not if I want to stay alive if I’m ever sent back down to Earth.
- Will that even happen though?
- Why shouldn’t I use it? Maybe I can find a way to remove the drugs and take it all at once. That way I can just stop. Stop the thinking, stop the screaming, the bells, the barking.
- Everything I’ve done in my life… it all feels so worthless now.

[[ LINE ]]

- The message from #27 is… I can’t get all of it.
- I don’t want to.
- It’s… I heard the word “dead”.
- “It’ll come for you.”
- Now the mirror won’t stop saying it. The face won’t let me sleep.

[[VOID_0]]- I ate chapter one.

“He’s dead. Your dog is dead. Disemboweled. Rotting on the sidewalk. It killed him. It’ll come for you too. No one’s coming to sa--”

“You’re dead! Your fucking world is dead!”
I shove my hand behind the mirror, yanking out the guts of the machine--
“Disemboweled! Rot in this piece of shit box!”
Before I know it, I’m busting the tablet on the cracked glass, pulling, yanking and breaking anything electrical I can find.The lights go out. A caution light begins to flash.

I finally, finally, have peace. A way out.
I couldn’t get the drugs out of the pod.
But now I have glass.I roughly wipe the snot and tears off my face, shambling towards the sink, grabbing the largest shard I could find.My Barney is dead. It told me.
Over and over and over and over and over and over.
It told me how he died. How everyone on earth died the same way. Violent. Messy.
So what do I have to live for?
I have nothing but the oxygen in my lungs and a stubborn fear of what I’m planning to do to myself.
My gait wobbles as I collapse next to the window, looking down at the ivory of Earth.
The communication console next to me continues its never ending beeping. All I can hear is the beat of my pulse as I stare at the smudged drawing of Barney on the window.My free hand reaches over, stubbornly slapping the console. Adding another message into the infinite queue I’ve probably created.

“I wanna come home–” I rasp,
The shadow of the shard spreads further into this shoebox of a station I’m in, growing bigger as I slowly bring it down to my wrist.
I’m trembling.“It’ll be quick, It’ll stop, It’ll stop…” Tears clog my voice as the burn of a cut begins to open on the skin of my wrist.“You’ll be there, we can run. I’ll never stop p-playing fetch…” The fever of panic fully blankets me as my lip trembles. I bite it when I speak, dropping the shard out of instinct, whimpering as the blood pools like black ichor in the flashing caution light. Fumbling, I try to pick up the mirrored shard again. It’s slippery.
And I’m dizzy.

“STATE PARTICIPANT, AGENT 0.8. REQUEST RETURN HAS BEEN ACCEPTED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR WORK.”
“UNITED WE STAND.”

My eyes weakly glance over at the pod as it opens, a green light pulsating inside.With effort, I stand, slipping on my own blood. My face hits the ground, but I hardly feel it. It takes a moment, since I repeatedly fall, as if stuck on a loop of my own mistake.
When I get tired of hitting my head, I crawl, approaching the communications console and slapping the button for Command. My back slumps down the console paneling as I turn, forcing myself to stay coherent.“...Hello…?”Silence.“Command…? Is anyone there??” My voice is pathetically small but I strain the muscles in my throat tight enough to force the words out.“Please…”I can’t see anything from the blur of my tears.
Is this the final joke of my story? Giving me hope when I need it the most? Only to make it into a hallucin—

“...uh… yeah? I’m here.”

A voice on the other end says, sounding confused, clearing their throat.“Oh… good. G-Good…Yeah.”
Breathing is hard, but I wipe my messy hands over my eyes, trying to smear away my tears.“I’m going to… the pod. I’m gonna come home. I don’t care if it’s… safe to land… clear, whatever. Just… I need medical treatment. Please help me…”“I haven’t heard another human v-voice in so long.”

“Uh… okay? I can help with whatever you got goin’ on.
I’ll try my best, at least.”

The voice pauses, yawning.

“Safe? I guess it is. All threats are terminated.
Are you one of em’ that are up in space?”

I don’t respond. I'm not giving them a second chance to rethink their choice.
Fumbling, I take the sheet I had covering up the mirror for so long and wrap it around my cut, trying to stop more of myself from pouring out.I start towards the pod, but I hesitate, almost tripping over my own momentum. My bloodshot gaze slowly looks over my shoulder. The PC I had been writing on is the only thing left breathing.
Impulsively, I grab the computer, the last bits of my sanity guiding me to rip out what I need.“Mine… my work…” The parts burn my fingertips, but it’s numb compared to the gnawing ache in my gut, numb compared to what I just did. What I almost let myself do.“...not dying up here with some stupid fuckin’ bot. Not… taking my thoughts.”Even if the AI is right, if Barney is gone, It won’t matter, I need to go on. I’m the only one who’d remember him. I need to live for him.Or at least live to spite these robotic roaches.
I stuff the drives inside my suit as I collapse into the pod, a delirious laugh of disbelief dancing from my lips.“...I need to finish my story. Coming home, solving a mystery… maybe with their dog.”
The image in my mind cracks my bravado, letting out a ragged sob as the doors begin to close again, clenching my filthy suit with a shaky fist.
I let myself be pulled under.

Sealed away in my tomb.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Credits:
Story written by A.C. Valentine.
Background: Dmitriy Ten on ArtStation.
(https://www.artstation.com/artwork/oAbNmO)
Window Photo: Credit: NASA/JSC Gateway to Astronaut Photography of Earth. From the article "New York, Philadelphia, Boston... Saturn. Astronaut captures lights of northeastern USA from Space Station" by Iain Todd (BBC SKYATNIGHT MAGAZINE)
(https://www.skyatnightmagazine.com/news/northeastern-usa-from-space)
GIF'S: Google Images

AN: Thank you for reading! More of my thought's below. (Spoilers)
My main inspiration behind this work (besides the song) is my fear of AI and it's progression/integration into everything. I wrote this piece as a challenge to address that fear and my reluctance to write in first person. I put a lot of nuance and hidden context clues throughout the story, hopefully to have readers guess what's happening on earth, what happened to the other winter agents, and how society got this bad.

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