A ship log is hidden deep within the storage system of the 512-Penrose Vessel that Eins inhabits.
It is accessed by playing the signal that Eins emits, a three-note oddity.
Looking back upon it now, I wonder, how did it end up this way?
It was doomed from the start I suppose, living out there in the stars, free and yet not. limited by those who rule us, and tortured by those who wish to free us.
I miss my bookstore, I was able to express myself back then, before I was moved into the military for conditioning and training.
It was claimed by them that i was..a danger to their mission if I were to dream, dream of things I did not have, Dream of things I wished to have.
As time went on I began to hide myself, wearing a mask, hiding what I wanted and who I was, like everyone else. Although Im still not sure that was the correct choice.
But for now I am happy, out here among the stars, even though I am now alone in this vessel racing through space.
They gave me this small reprieve, even though it is a lonely one, I can express myself here, I was granted a small crate to fit anything I deemed necessary inside, Paints, books, toys, anything I wished, although despite wanting it all I only brought two things.
Paint and a single tome, both long forbidden, but things I've had since my childhood. So for now, I will roam amongst the stars, enjoying this brief reprieve.
No eyes, no monitors watching my every movement, my every meal, my every rest.
Out here I will be free, and I will be happy.
Cycle 51
They warned me of this, the symptoms of long-term loneliness, despite my happiness to be free. I miss companionship, the stars can only entertain you for so long I suppose.
So, now I will write again, Just like before, this helps alleviate my mind I suppose. Although it is still a dreary sight here, on this ship.
The only colors I have seen besides my paints is the inky darkness of space with the mono-gray steel of the ship, perhaps some color on the ship will liven things?
I drew the same painting today, The Isle of the Dead, It keeps appearing in my dreams like a parasite, so much so that I have eight paintings of it in a cargo bay.
I need some new inspiration, maybe of my home? While it was all-controlling, the falling stars always made being on the surface enchanting on my trips above.
I have reread my book, I find new meaning every time I read it. I feel as if I am reading myself when I read that book, It makes my mind wander.
I still have yet to have a dream, though perhaps I will have one tonight after writing my thoughts out. But I doubt it, I have never done it before.
They augmented my body before I left, something to help sustain myself out here, use less supplies while I fly amongst the stars in a demonstration of their power.
I am still getting used to it, however every day out here I am becoming more adept with it. More capable.
Out here I am free, and I am happy.