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COMMANDER'S LOG #8 - BEGIN COMMUNICATION.

I HAVE MONEY!

I HAVE SO MUCH MONEY!!!

Uh- Ahem. So, in between this entry and the last, I have figured out how to create Portable Suns. Portable Suns are these miniature suns that shoot out miniature solar flares. They are very good for starting fires, I personally have been using mine to start campfires for staying toasty and roasting marshmallows, but they're probably also good for hurting people. I have a Portable Sun of my own, but I am capable of creating more. Soooooo I figured that I should try to sell one of them using that Offr website. I mean, that thing is constantly advertising weird and supernatural services at ludicrous prices, so, I mean, it seemed like a good idea to try to sell a Portable Sun there.

I snuck my way down to Meadow Lake, found a library, used one of the computers, put up a listing under an alias, and immediately received a response from someone named "Saffron." A bit of deal making later, and I gained $75,000.

Now, I've been surviving on... I want to say... $100 a month? I mean, not counting all the shoplifting that I do, that's how much money I normally have. So $75,000 is uh... A lot.

But I didn't only sell one Portable Sun. I have sold five... Or... Five and a half? It's complicated... Not really, actually, one of the Suns was traded for another item instead of being sold.

SO. With my first sale, I bought myself a new phone, some actual food, and a ton of other stuff. Then the other buyers came in and... Uh... I now have $725,000. So... Um... That's a LOT of money. I don't even know what to do with it all... Well, it's better to save it, I don't need to spend all of it immediately. Anyways, in order, the buyers were: Saffron, Marianne, Janus, and "Chucks Trucks and Crucks." I wrote more about them on a paper, so I'm not going to repeat myself here. I don't know any of them, but I think they might be contractors? Not sure.

Outside of money, I got two other... Magical items? No, that's not very catchy... Artifacts! Yeah, that's a good name. I got two other Artifacts from my Offr adventures. The first one was this bracelet made of clay from Ollie! I got it by trading a Portable Sun for it, and it's really cool! It can summon three clay pegasi, all of which are British... I don't know why they're British, but they are. It's nice to have a bit of company at the observatory, these horses are surprisingly good at conversation. They're only around for two hours though, so that's sad. Anyways, I'm glad that I got to talk to Ollie again! He seems to be doing well!

As for the second Artifact... It's um... It's a motorcycle... I don't think it's magical, but it looks pretty cool! I got it from that Janus guy, and I've been trying to learn how to drive it. I haven't had too much success yet, but I'm getting there! Normally, I wouldn't buy a motorcycle because... I mean... Duh. Buuuuut Janus told me that he was a contractor, and apparently a much more experienced one than me. At some point, transportation for these jobs is supposed to dry up, so I really need a way to move around that isn't walking. Besides, once I learn how to ride this thing, it'll be a lot easier to go to and from Meadow Lake. I probably won't have to spend an entire day walking anymore! Maybe I'll be able to go to other places, as well!

Is there anything else that's important to mention?... Hm... I don't think so- oh... Oh right... I um... I haven't talked to Arcti yet. I just... So much happened so quickly and it slipped my mind and I... I'm still scared. I...

...

One more job.

One more job and I'll talk to her.

...

I promise.

Sic Quaerimus Astra.

END COMMUNICATION.

When you really think about it, the world's a big orange. The outer crust, the peel, the gritty shield to the world... It's something. I haven't put my finger down on what it represents yet, but it definitely represents something. The fleshy interior, the desired only part that truly matters... is also probably something. I'm normally a lot better at these sorts of things, so like, give me a minute here, alright? Coming up with analogies on the spot is hard. Is this an analogy? It might be a metaphor actually, I'm not too sure. Does it really matter? Maybe. Maybe it does.

What if my wife's an orange? I actually saw her again, had a whole talk and everything. I'm starting to get the impression that she might wanna divorce me, mighta rushed into things marrying her day one. The whole "you carried me once, wanna be my wife?" angle really doesn't work out too well long term. I guess relationships are supposed to be built on more flowery stuff than that, stability and whatnot. I don't get why though? I don't think I've ever got that really. Mutual dependance, constant openness, all that gets you is stabbed in the back and thrown in a tub kidneyless. We're all ugly inside, aren't we? Is the point of relationships showing people that ugliness and seeking acceptance?

What if that's all relationships, and not just stupid love affairs? If all relationships rely on that shit, have I ever actually had one? It feels like my entire life, I've been spewing bile and hoping it sticks. I never had many friends... ever, really. I wouldn't call them that at least. People have always been kinda boring, they don't get it, the bigger picture I mean. Our lives are controlled by big old invisible hands that act behind closed doors, keeping us sick, complicit, and docile. Our agency is locked behind wealth, class barriers, the basic structures that form our world. Why? Why are they allowed to do that? Power is only an idea, a concept that only takes on meaning if you let it. A dog is only ever on a leash voluntarily, the option to maul their master always exists. It's cowardice, fear, an aversion to uncertainty. It's pathetic. People should want to do something, to make something of themselves. I don't wanna live through the day-to-day monotony of life, I want everyday to be an adventure. I want constant challenges, constant adversity to keep my kicking. Certainty, mundanity, predeterminism bullshit, that's what kills you. Your body might still be kicking, but your spirits gone.

What if people are oranges? They've got this peel around them, that perfectly crafted exterior that they flaunt to the world. Inside there's that ugliness, the flesh, the real you. It's the you that dreams of adventure, of rising above your rank and being something, someone. All these people, these random faces you see walking the streets, are they oranges? Or has complacency rotted them? It's always the fruit that rots first, never the peel. They're walking husks, fake people, dead oranges ruining our appetites. That rot spreads, their stupid notions about what is and what isn't possible, they pass it on like a plague. One orange goes bad and starts raving about how happy they are with their life, how their 80 hour work week makes them feel "SO SATISFIED!!", and they convince you that it's normal. If they're happy, why aren't you? Your standards MUST be too high if I can put up with it, you're just weak.

It makes me sick. All of it, all of it makes me want to hurl. I keep trying to force myself into thinking that any of this shit is salvageable, that there's something positive that we can foster her. There just isn't though. There's no point in caring about these people, they've already made up their minds. They're happy with the rot, it's comforting even. They never get thrown a curveball, they never know the joys of ripping off a peel. It's sick. It's all just sick. Precious resources are being wasted on these sacks of shit, why should they get to eat while dreamers starve? There are plenty of people now who COULD act, COULD attempt to change something, they just refuse to. They're worthless. No amount of encouragement could ever get those lards to revolt.

Something about oranges, that's what this was supposed to be about. There has to be some sort of throughline to this rant, a lesson to learn. Is it that we're all just pieces of shit? That nothing matters because no ones willing to fight to change a damn thing? That can't be it, that's the same logic those sacks of shit use. What if it's that I'm the only real person left? That I am the last orange alive? The rest of the world has already succumbed to the rot, is that it? 

If I'm the last orange, why should I care about these relationships? Why should my wife hating me matter if she didn't in the first place? I have yet to see evidence that she exists, that she's not just another drone acting out the movements of a person. This could all just be a blight of the human mind, a natural sickness that takes hold of us. Would that make my husband exempt? The man lacks a heart, a human's soul, and yet he still showcases certain yearning that others lack. He was made for a purpose, to uphold the status quo, and yet he dares to try and break free. He rejects what his makers wanted out of his existence and craves to find his own meaning. Does that make him an orange too? Are him and I the last real people left on this world? 
I'll write here again once I learn more on this orange experiment, once I find some sort of greater meaning to it all. 

In other news, I'm having sardines for dinner.

[Dirt and debris cloud the air, upturned by the iron shovel. The rustling of leaves dampens infrequent coughs and sputters.]

Is this enough? It should be enough.

Thank goodness I have a bore now, otherwise I'd have spent weeks trying to carve into this.

[Something heavy slides across the uneven ground. It scratches and chafes until it rests almost perfectly in the shallow mark made in the earth. The shovel solidifies its final resting place.]

It's not my best work, but he'd be uncomfortable if I did anything more. He'd be uncomfortable with all my decisions thus far. There's no surprise there - I would abhor myself if I weren't so distracted with everyone else's problems. 

Carving into wood is slightly more bearable - I've brought tools from the studio. Does this do it any justice? Hardly. I designed this stuff. I've drawn it a million times during the plane ride to and from the job.

I drew him too - it was flawless the first time, as though he were looking back at me. I couldn't do it again. I wonder what that says about me and art and the world at large. The image of his face must be slipping my mind even though I've been born not to let that happen. I can't convince myself that the face in my memories is truly accurate either, but I only have the odd photo from rare selfies. Why am I questioning it now?

Birds chirp from above. ...Hm.

What is this feeling called? I can't quite place a word on it. Always feels this way when I visit cemeteries - I suppose I've succeeded, then. ...Or this is simply what mourning is meant to be. Just me and... this representation of someone from the past. I don't think I've ever spent enough time to dwell on just what this would mean for me.

...I... I guess all I can do now is... wait. You wouldn't mind if I hung around, right?

Pokemon.

I remember it from my childhood, I remember it from simpler times when I still felt like me. Feels like it's been ripped away to leave twisted entrails behind. Putting it back in the palm of my hands hardly brings it back, but for a moment in that place I could feel... lighter.

Like I'm still confident in what I wanted to do. Like I'm still aware of what I have to do. 

It was nostalgic, don't get me wrong, but every part of it was a million knives through my chest. Doesn't help that Thalassia was trying her best to be friendly - she tried to give me several handcrafted gifts. I feel horrible about accepting them because of how much I'd much rather spend this time alone instead. I'd sooner abandon it all for the sake of my goals, and having more to hesitate on only hinders me.

I would've been a lot more receptive to these gestures last month. That's another thing - I look at myself and all I can see is the ways I've changed. Forget the one forged from hours of absorbing pop culture, I can't even call myself by my real name without dwelling on how much of a lie that is. 

Koriol.

Koriol.

Koriol.

Doesn't sound like anything meaningful in the first place, does it. Just a made-up word with no thought put into it at all. 

Stan told me I'd be better off leaving a few jobs in, but the more I think about it the less I want to leave. There's nothing to go back to. There's nothing worth returning to. I'm sorry.

I can't take myself seriously with all the choices I've made. 

I've said it before, but the one that heard those words is gone. I'll say it once more: people that know the lengths I've gone to fulfill a goal will rarely stick around. 

Am I... really doing this because I want to, or is it all just for other people because it'd somehow make them happy?

They called me.

Jimbo, was it? Chuck? Goro?

Doesn't matter, they can raise and shed a name with the snap of a finger. They play dumb about the 'jobs' but it's more of an unsaid truth by now. No one seeking magical artifacts could possibly be a regular person, and that includes them.

There was another guy too, didn't catch their name. Just seems to be along for the ride. I can respect that.

They wanted to meet at my place, but I know better. I'm still concerned that Goro has given me this much seemingly without an expectation for returns. 

There's so much to know, so much to learn, too much to do, time is slipping my grasp and I can hardly think straight. Am I straight? Ha... shouldn't have pulled that all-nighter looking into...

Him.

Jacob Cruz. 

Let's start from the top. Order of operations:

1. Goro called me. Said they wanted to eat gyros together and give me something.
2. Went to Oliver Crescent. Taxi.
3. Introductions. They looked like Linus Tech Tips. Said they were Linus Touch Tips.
4. Ate food. It was pretty good. Don't get the fries, apparently.
5. They had wanted to see Jacob Cruz instead, but the guy wasn't picking up. Dead? Unlikely.
6. Chatted for a bit. Goro knew Zeph. Shocker.
7. Gave me an address. Jacob Cruz's residence: Arbutus Residences South Tower, 4288 Yew St, Vancouver, BC V6L 0C4
8. Gathered some things.
9. Retrieved a thing. The Knobbler spoke to me. Kept chanting about misery and strength and having nothing to lose and goals and achievement. Kept changing their own narrative each time I called them out. Suspicious, but could be useful. I'll see where that takes me. Doesn't change the fact that I'll leave soon enough.
10. Went home.

That should've calmed me down. It didn't. Didn't know I could make this face. Shame from looking in the mirror doesn't even dispel it. It's not my place to tell myself I'm wrong for feeling this way. This guy took advantage of Zephyren. How old is he? Like, 30? Zeph was 19 up until a month or two ago. Wallowing in self-pity when all the things he's done are by his own hand - he has no one to blame but himself. 

I have his papers.

Nothing's stopping me from exposing him the moment I find him. Now, to decide whether he gets to live...

But Zeph... I... I don't know. I don't think I want to know? God, I just... What am I supposed to do here, with all this information and leverage and power and-

I never wanted this. I just wanted to know what happened and how I could possibly save him if he were in trouble. Jacob is the missing link here, I'm sure of it. He knows. I'll decide what to do with him after I've gotten what I needed.

GIVE HIM BACK.

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COMMANDER'S LOG #6 - BEGIN COMMUNICATION.

Good news! I was able to manifest something to help Luciole like I said that I would! It's... I don't really know how to describe it, but it's sort of like an illusion mixed with therapy? The specifics aren't important, what matters is that it's magic, gives people a vision of space, and works over the phone.

...

Unfortunately, I don't currently have a phone, so I have to walk all the way to Meadow Lake to use it. I've done the trip a few times already, but... It's exhausting. It's a full day of walking and there's not much out there. I wish I could hitchhike or something, but it's far too risky to get into a car with someone who's not... You know... magic. Despite the distance, I was able to make it to a payphone and call Luciole, and thankfully she picked up! We had a nice little conversation, and then afterwards I picked up some supplies and made my way home. Now I've just got to wait around for another job and... Yeah. Nothing... Nothing else for me to do right now...

...

Luciole is... Luciole is a lot. She- or they? I don't... I'm not really sure what to call them anymore. They're... No, I think it's still she... She's... Give me a second.

[There's about a minute of silence that is occasionally broken up by footsteps, shuffling, and exhales]

Okay.

In our conversation, Luciole revealed a lot of secrets to me. I don't intend to share what they told me with anyone else. This is between me and them. I will say what I learned here for record keeping purposes.

The most important detail is that Luciole isn't a singular consciousness. I don't exactly know what that entails, and I don't expect that I will ever truly learn. It sounds... complex, to say the least. I am aware of Aria, she seems mean, but Luciole considers her a friend. I think that Aria and I might have just got off on the wrong foot, I think I was pushing a little too hard when I met them... I did try to apologize, but she... I think she might have just been stressed. I don't think Aria is the only consciousness that Luciole has. I don't know how many voices are in Luciole, there could be tens, hundreds, even millions of consciousnesses within her... Or there could be like... three. Like I said, I don't know.

Currently, I think of Luciole as: 1. Luciole, the primary consciousness, the commander, so to say. 2. Aria, the secondary consciousness, the pilot, second in command. 3. Lucioles, the undefined consciousnesses, the rest of the crew, may or may not exist.

For the sake of clarity, I will continue to call the whole being "Luciole" because that is what she calls herself. I do not know how accurate my assessment is, and I suspect that there are many, many things that I do not know. I don't even know if I'm right to divide them into consciousnesses...

Secondly, Luciole is haunted by... Something. She called it "They" and didn't seem to want to go into specifics on what "They" are. Luciole last met "Them" seven years ago, and she seems very afraid of encountering "Them" again. She doesn't remember what "They" did to her, though she did mention not being able to close her eyes for quite some time after meeting "Them." Apparently, "They" are the reason that Luciole is... Multiple. She described it as "Ils ont te fait 'Vous'" which would roughly translate to "They make you 'yous'." Whoever or whatever "They" are, Luciole is really afraid of "Them."

I don't know the exact specifics on "Their" nature, but I get the impression that "They're" analogous to a cult. My other theory is that "They" are a Lovecraftian Horror that is inherently unknowable. Whatever "They" are, "They" are not something to be meddled with, given Luciole's fear of "Them."

...

There is the possibility that "They" are not real. Well, no. "They" are real, but not to the world at large... That doesn't make sense. Hang on...

What I mean is that "They" might be an entity that only exists within Luciole's mind, comparable to a sleep paralysis demon but far, far worse. Regardless of "Their" nature, however, I should treat "Them" as being real. Luciole has been hurt by "Them" and that is unquestionably real. "They" are real to Luciole, and that's the important part. Dismissing "Them" as fake won't help Luciole.

Third, Luciole is trapped. I don't know who is trapping Luciole, but I think it might be her family given the fact that Luciole mentioned living with them. By the sounds of it, her home life is really, really rough. In a lot of ways, it reminds me of my own home life, but without Dad, without Arcti, without... Without anywhere to go. She's tried running away before, and it didn't work. It sounds awful, worse than how it was for me. I don't know how she's even surviving, she's... She's a lot stronger than me, that's for sure.

...

What if I brought her here? I mean, I've been here for months now and no one has even come close to finding me. If I went on another job with her, I could ask her to come home with me... That would be a bad idea. Luciole has tried to run away before and that didn't work. Her family- or whoever is trapping her- would come to find her. We could last a while, but sooner or later, they would find us. I can't bring her here, that's putting a target on my back...

I owe it to her to try. I can't... I can't leave her alone out there. Sure, I don't have any responsibility to help but... Luciole is my friend, and I want to help her.

There's more, there's so, so much more. I think Luciole is afraid of being a burden? The people trapping her tell her that she's not special. She seems to hide her emotions and true feelings a lot. There's so much more, so much that I don't know. I could go on and on and on, but... My voice is getting tired.

I'm sorry Luciole, but... Thank you for being my friend.

Sic Quaerimus Astra.

END COMMUNICATION.

I dream of you tonight.

There you are, basking in the golden glow. You've always flocked to all that glitters and glows - it's your second nature. Your passion is bright and I can't help but draw near as well.

There is a look of childlike longing as your hand hits a glass wall. It's a world you've never been able to touch, dangling just beyond your fingertips. You reach upwards nonetheless, as valiant steeds catch your gifted eye. It's cruel, how you're made to see everything and yet you're still held back from the little bit of comfort you'll ever scrounge. Would you forgive me if I tried to help?

The ticket lies before you now. Some twisted part of me hopes that if I have what you want, what you need, then I will in proxy become the one you want. Your gaze stares past me. Of course it does - how could I ever blame you? A tragic tale it is, that if I ever spoke up, I'd be deemed spoilt and selfish. All I wanted was that little bit of happiness they promised on TV. I'd never expect you to solve my problems or fix me - I just want you to be here. 

Talk to me.

Look at me.

Know me.

You don't have to understand. You don't have to feel the same.

Just let me help you be happy. Just this once, I beg of you.

Your smile is all I could ever hope for - I know you still have it within you.

You're sat upon the horse now, kitsch turned miraculous. Your crimson hair is a complement, but really, I just like the sight of you. A knight in shining armour, like that seat was meant for you. Faux gold reflects within your eyes and I can only imagine what I'd look like in them too. The gold is for my hair, the gold is for I like you

Look, no hands, is what I think I hear. You spread your arms wide like wings to the sky, you've always been meant to fly. So fly, why don't you, as deathly screeching halts the tale. Porcelain shatters beneath you and suddenly you've fallen. Down, down, far into the abyss, and all I could do is watch in abject horror. Gears gnash and creak and crush, and my heartbeat falters at the sound of squelching flesh and shattered bones. Did it hurt? Did you know? How long did it last? Have you died by my hand? Would this have happened had I not given you that ticket? Or did you choose not to fly, just so you could be that much farther away from me?

...I get it. I understand. I wouldn't be friends with me either.

I just... wish you didn't find the need to die to prove a point.

All I can do is thrash and scream, knowing in worlds beyond that these words couldn't feasibly reach you:

"ZEPHYREN. PLEASE. COME BACK."

I wake up. There is darkness.

...I'm cold.

I was at the shooting range today and something weird happened. There was another guy there that looked kinda like the guy I stopped from shooting up that high school and he was saying weird stuff so I didn't really like him and then he was shooting and he was actually pretty good at it. When he had some people watch him to do a trick shot I had the idea to try and intercept his bullet with mine like in movies and it actually worked and he was really embarrassed. I also realized that I was faster than normal at reloading my guns so that was weird too. I don't really know what it means but it's less jarring than seeing everything all the time and is actually kinda cool. I hope I get more powers like this one so that I'm not in constant discomfort all the time like I was with the other one.