Chapter 4: Feeling Lonely

Log for Flute: Merkury45 days out

Motion in space is so hard to get used to,like so many things. The powerful Darkstream is moving me so fast that the closer planets and stars appear and stars appear and then disappear in a matter of minutes or handful of hours. The flute is wonderful. I can see her prow moving through the lights of space like pointer or needle her shiny yellow paint visible in my rangelight when I turn it on for fun (actually, sometimes I feel that it might be visible to some distant and yearning person ---).

When I first started this journey I put Merk through all her paces and she handled unbelievably. Sometimes (like this morning) I'll do some quick maneuvers for practice and to be sure the backup systems are working they are; very tight. In all this complete and cubic black vastness, the chance of coming into contact with another vessel is remote. Still, I felt just the slightest stemquiver- as if a fish had lightly stroked my neck with its fin, about two weeks ago. I think it must have been some other creature.

Mica's log: 60 days out

I am always amazed at all the living beings of this darkstream. It seems strange that less than 200 years ago humans thought of space as a vacuum and all life and understanding took place on that middle sized planet, Earth. Now, of course we know about the interchangeability of matter and energy and a bit of what space contains- the ubiquitous gases, liquids, solids, spiles, fromes, and the immense rushing darkstreams; unmanageable but navigable and the gigantic and fearsome Cataracts.

With all the life traveling with me in this particular stream, if I could heave a bucket overboard, it could come in filled with all manner of interesting forms. I can't heave such a bucket as it's dangerous to open the hull, and many creatures so gathered might object-but just look! I am opening my watchport which is almost deck to overhead. I feel like I'm perched on a very high cliff. I can see miniscule dots of some kind of "simple" life. Sometimes waves of them pass and shimmer with their own luminescence; or they'll change: a filmy backdrop of pale blue changing to deep orange, then scarlet and back toward green. Other times the color is more like music or something felt; tingly, soft, jagged, hot. There are animals that seem to float like ribbons then suddenly wrap around another creature and that will become incorporated into it. They have enveloped Merk on occasion, tiny vacuoles visible as around and around they go. Now here is a huge globe-shaped turquoise and black individual sweeping along next to me-it's stretching out like heavy taffy and matching my vessel's length-stretching thinner-wait, is that a port with a face in it? And suddenly snap! Back to its roundness, but now has a wonderful wavering glow within.

Yesterday, a group of tortilla like disks, maybe a hundred, caught up with me, passed, then stopped and turned around, came back, this tine closer to the hull. Tiny spheres floated onto Merk's skin and flattened into patches looking like strange blobs of sticky mucus. Suddenly a rattling hammering sound seized my flute, the noise and vibration grew though the sticky spots didn't seem to move. The noise became extremely loud and piercing and I became alarmed for the safety of the craft. Then- the tortilla creatures passed by again and the tiny spheres leaped up to be claimed again. All looked normal.

Mica's log 70 days out.

I am beginning to feel pangs of deep loneliness. I would give a great deal to hear Olive's voice, or Flint's, or any humanlike being. I wonder whether people feel loneliness more if they have always been surrounded by others or if they have had period of being alone before. The sound of a human voice, not a recorded or simulated one would thrill me so---.

After my exercises which I force myself to do when I arise from my net, I spend time with my God. I check all the navigation, instruments, and actual progress. It is especially at this time it seems that I become sexually aroused and I touch myself for a spell. Something to look forward to. Actually, all these things.

Assuming the trip is without significant interference, I expect to arrive on Wentworth-"Wentworth", it sounds like a magic kingdom-in 4-5 months from my departure. Of course much could depend on the speed of the darkstreams which of course contain their own currents and eddies darkstreams being hundreds of miles in girth or more. As I check the communications instruments, I always look hopefully for any indication of a human pilot in the neighborhood.

This morning after I consumed a food packet, and re-coffee, I became thoughtful and sad, feeling so alone. I stood in front of the panel that opens the watchport. I bow my head and strength comes. After a few minutes, I brushed the panel and it slid back. WOW! Crack! In front of me- huge. A planet almost fills my view. Against a black background this gigantic sphere is moving but not fast enough. The surface of the planet is inconceivably moving like a pregnant belly with a life inside, squirming. The surface splits, and a huge piece Breaks Off! an immense expanse of skin rips off the ball. Separating, it leaves a red-white blazing, bubbling, interior exposed. Another Crack! and a piece like the thick skin of a fruit peels off into space. The pieces seem to tear from pole to pole, leaving the glowing I can hardly look at it-furnace of life open. The pieces are hurtling through the darkstream; each one many thousands of miles long. I don't exactly feel threatened as I know how distant this event is, but the enormous chunks of ragged planet flinging through the blackness makes me duck as if it were about to obliterate Merkury.

I note the position of the peeling planet, time, and attitude to relay to Darkwatch as a hazard to navigation. Crack! A thinner but equally long slice wrenched loose like a scab and flashes outward end over ponderous end leaving another violent welt. It is moving very fast.

As I witness the staggering spectacle, I realize that I am not alone. I slowly turn to my right. Standing next to me on the sill, also agape at the peeling planet, is a medium-small being. It is covered with reddish brown fur and looks about the size of an adolescent crocodile.

I clear my throat to say something and it turns its long face toward me-is it smiling?

Mica's log Day 75

The advent of this creature has been a real spiritual boon to me. We haven't found a way to talk, but he does climb up on the dinner table in the galley or curl up on the cushions by the navigator's desk. He (she?) also watches me and sits next to me as I puff and pant at my exercises and makes grinding noises with its little sharp teeth. He eats what I eat. He also completely disappears for periods presumably to do his own things. A song popped into my head the first day we met-as we watched the peeling planet- "Ronnie, I miss you, Ronnie, I'll wait for you". So I call him (her?) Ronnie. And I play the old song on my MusicChoice. Ronnie likes it obviously as he punches it up often. I have forgotten the huge collection of music I brought with me and have begun playing it quite a lot. Ronnie seems to particularly like old "popular" music.