I have no idea what happens next! All I know is, it’s gonna be awful!
January 20, 2198
Last night in Sol System. And Christ, but I can’t wait to leave this tarpit.
I got told that they can’t read my journal entries, this far out from Earth. That’s weird to think about, the idea that I’m going to have privacy from now on. Nobody from Mental Hygiene is going to sit in at next week’s social-therapy session and gently ask me what’s bothering me, and why I needed to call Earth a ‘tarpit,’ and is there anything that the authorities can do to make me feel better? No more followup meetings, no more six-month check-ins, no more opt-out group seminars to brainstorm solutions to the problems I’ve helped identify. I can just say something sucks, and lo! It can just suck.
Nobody cares. It feels amazing. And scary. Because I’m going out to the Tomb Worlds. And nobody cares out there, either.
And maybe I don’t have complete privacy, here on the ship. I’ll still be having weekly sessions with the therapists, and random wellness checks, and group conclaves. Somebody might even read this, if I start acting weird. But that’s different. That’s just people traveling through space. The people in charge won’t care what I think, as long as I don’t go crazy. And I won’t go crazy.
There’s the beep. I could stay up, but I’m going to log off. Besides, I gotta get used to those full rest cycles! Everybody knows that spacemen need to get plenty of sleep. It keeps the dreams down to a dull roar.
Did you just invent Chekov’s Alarm Clock?
This horror will truly be cursed. I can’t wait to read the rest.