Emergency comms channel has been active today.
Let me start with the good news. The alarm is finally off. I cannot describe what a relief this is. It’s gone on so long, so regularly, so insistently that I’m actually hearing the absence of the alarm tone, like the world is punctuated by a blaring silence where a beep should be, but it’s a relief. Headphones off. White noise off. Music off. Just the thrum of the ship.
More good news, with some technical assistance I’ve managed to override the booze limiter and got properly pissed. So pissed I had to vomit in a bag and then have a nap which was lovely, although given my current nap schedule not exactly a surprise.
Finally, and this is maybe the best news of all, the ants have really taken off. I found a queen today, and she’d already laid her eggs. She’s built a very narrow tunnel for them so they didn’t float about. I’m going to be a grandad soon I suppose, and watch a new generation take life in their stride. Space ants. That’s cool. That’s something.
Bad news time.
The alarm was not broken. There’s a radiation leak, and a problems with the ships diagnostics, which is why the alarm was going off but not registering the problem. Different circuits.
I was quite angry when they explained this to me. I sent some juicy swear words out across the solar system. This is not a place where you would want right and left hands to not know what they’re doing. But then, on reflection, I realised it didn’t really matter. I mean, the problem isn’t that the alarm and the diagnostics weren’t on the same page. The problem is that there is a radiation leak and it’s killing me. And my beautiful unborn ant grandchildren.
I hope you don’t read this and think me very calm. I am anything but calm. It’s somewhat unnerving, however, since the bliss of the alarm being turned off, and the brief sortie in to dipsomania have offset some of the other emotional outpourings. Sure, I’m being poisoned, but imagine being poisoined with the alcohol tap cranked low and a loud beeping doing your head in. Bright side right.
I’m told there’s a plan. The specs are being poured over and the indication thus far is that the ship is equipped to deal with many of the sort of things that could go wrong with it. Plus, apparently, my cocoon is radiation protecting, so I can hide in there some what, or up at the top, where it’s less severe.
I’ll await updates quite eagerly as you can imagine, but for now I might drink some more, get a little queasy, have another vomit and then a nice snug nap.
It just occurs to me as I write that that this is not space sickness or alcohol sickness, this is radiation poisoning making me vomit. Time for another course correction. Ideally to a hug.