Virtual Beginnings

Welcome. Enter command.

Log access granted. Choose log.

Accessing log . . .

Data corrupted. Would you like to restore the system to a previous date?

Restoring system to 12/25/20 . . .

Not all data could be recovered. Attempt recovery anyway?

Attempting recovery . . .

Available data recovered.

12/17/20

I̧t͏’s͏ g͏et͞tìng pret̢t͠y cl̨o͠se͘ t͠o ҉á ne̴w y҉e̡a͞r̨.͡ A̧lt͡ho̧ug̵h,̶ h͝o̕n͞e̕s͏tl͏y,̢ I͝ ̀don҉’̸t̛ ҉kn̷o̷w ͢if t҉h͜e͘ date͠ ̛ìs͜ ̛p̴rop͜e̶r̷. ̧Li͠ķe͢,̛ ̵I do̵n’̸t̛ rea̶lly ҉hav́e ͜a̸ny ҉re҉fe̕rence̛ f̶o͟r ̸tim̷e̛ ͘a̧ny̧more͏.For ͢t̴h͏e mơst͏ ͏p̧ar̶t̸, ͟I ju͡st ̴trust w̕ha҉t̀ th͝e co͡mpuţe̡r̵ ͝śays ̧the ͠d̛a̡t̴e͢ ͘is.̶

Okay, it’s time to change topics before I spurn myself into an existential crisis again. Okay, so, the food stores are still overflowing. I’m throwing shit out of the airlock faster than I can eat it, and I eat a fuckton. Like, I have to exercise a bunch just to make sure that I’m not gaining weight, which fucking sucks, because I hate excersise. I’m super worried that one of these days the ship is going hit something and it’ll stop accelerating, and then I’ll lose gravity. Like, fuck. I’ll get so damn fat if that happens.

Ì̀ ̷̴̨͢m̷̷̡͝i̶͞s̶̡̢҉s̵̡ ̶͡M͞͏í̧̨̀̀c̶͘͢h̶̨̡̢͝e̛͝͞l͜͠l̀͟e͠.̵̷̴̀ She always kept me so grounded. I told her to not bother fixing the fucking airlock, but she insisted. Fuck man, I’m back on the bullshit topics. I haven’t written anything but dates in this journal for a fucking month, and now I’m back to moping about shit. I’m done with the journal for today. I think I’ll go look around the old storage closets again, see if there’s anything worth my time. It’s not like piloting the ship matters.

12/18/20

So I think if that I just write about it, I might get through the grieving process faster. About a month ago, one of the three airlocks on the ship broke. M̈́i̐ͩ̋ͮ͜c͗̎ͤ͂̃̀ḩͬͣe̓ͥ̽̈́l̴̓͐̈͂l̍̿́e̾͐ͧ ͪ̾̍͑ͩ͆͒͝s̆͑̽ͭ̂͒͐͘äͣͨ͌ͩ̔i͐ͤd͂̓̔ͯ͌̾͛ s͡h̛͛ͣ͐̓̎ê̇ͬ̍̾’͜d͟ ̽g̏͗̄̅̾ͦo̾̏ͩ̎ ŏ̴̐͌͋͒̆̓uͪ́ͭ͊͛ͧtͤͮ͊ ̸ͫͣ͆̔̀̀̓tͬō̴̏͑ ̵̅ͤ̂̾f̓̍̀͑̐̽͊i̔͂͊x̓́̍̐͒̽͏ ̌̿͊i̧͋ͬtͥ.ͫ͑ I told her to just forget about it, because it could risk her life. She told me if she didn’t fix it, it could risk both our lives. I’m still angry that she was right.

So, the outer door of the airlock broke. That puts the inner door at risk, along with the rest of the ship. Michelle went out to seal off the outer airlock. Sealing it off means potentially getting your a͂̐̆ͫ̒̿̿ͭr͑͗͒̌̚mͧͫ ͯ̌̿c̽͗ͦ̌̚u͑̃tͧ͆͌̓̐ ̌ͫ̐̓öͧ͒f͊f͑ͣ̾̐͆́,ͬ͋ͪ̾̑́͑ ͬ̌͌ͤͯ̊b̋͋ͬ͐̚e͋̓c̑̄ả͑́uͪͮ̇͗̆̅ͯͦs̒̑ë̇̋̿͌ ͩ̆̓̓̇̂ͦͦy̓̃̇ͬoͥͥ̂̈̔̐ͫ͐̚u͐̓͐̏͊̔̇̇̑ ͣ̿͗̂̾̓ͨh̊̇â̅̎ͧͨ͆͂v̒̏̓e͆̌̓͌̅͆̈́ͯ ͤ͛͗̅̀͆ͭ̇ṫo͗ͮͩ͊̐̌́ͭͨ ̇ͣpͯ̄u͌͗̽̄l͒ͤ͗͊̓l on a metal sheet from inside the ship to get it to seal. There’s a design flaw that causes the reserve air tanks to keep pushing air into the airlock until its level of air matches the rest of the ship’s. So, as she was trying to close the airlock door, the air started pushing harder out of the gap. Michelle didn’t lose her arm, but her entire bottom half. Her legs were just torn away like god damned tissue paper, but she just kept pulling that fucking sheet closed.

The moment the airlock closed, I went in and held Michelle, in her last moments. She couldn’t even get out any words, just gasps and sputters. I couldn’t do anything to help her. Her body is still there.

Fu͝ck, ̵I d́on’̛t͠ f̀ee͢l̛ a̛n͏y ̶b̡ette̴r̵.̀ I’m c̷ryi̧ng ag͘ąi̵n.̵

12/19/20

So I checked out the closets again, and I found an old VR room. We used to use it for training demos on the ship. I looked through all of the programs, but I didn’t need any review. I guess that’s just another room for me to abandon.

The plants are doing fine, and they’re managing to keep the atmosphere on the ship stable. They’re reproducing very rapidly, and there might be more plants than ship one of these days. I’m looking forward to it. Maybe this ship will create its own evolution and shit, and there’ll be a new ecosystem one day. I don’t know, I’m a computer technician. I didn’t really study how the plant stuff works very well. It’d probably take way too much time to learn now, anyways.

The accelerated water cycle on the ship is doing excellent, as well. Now that I’m the only guy using any resources, there’s an overabundance. That’s probably what’s increasing the plant growth.

Jaylen would have known what all of this shit means, now that I think about it. His job was bioengineering and stuff. It would be nice to͙̞͈̙̝ ̲̙̰l̫̺̞ͅe̫̪̮̬a̭̜͓̣r̹͕͇̘̪̣̙n͖̱̪ͅ some new things. I ̸͑̊ͬ̍w͝on̨de̸r ͢i̧f ͏that VR̵ roo̷m ̸h͡as͠ al̷l ̨o̢f̨ ͘t̶h̷e͏ ͢mo̸dul͏es̸ ͝fo̵r̶ J̛̕a̧͢yĺe̸n̴͢͠,̕ ̸̕t͞ǫ̀͜o͝?̑̈́ͧ͛́ Maybe I should check them out.

12/20/20

I don’t have Jaylen’s login info, so I can’t access his modules. Wait, change that “can’t” to “couldn’t.”̖̩͓ͦ͋ͯ̍̄̍ͫI̭̣̯̎ ͯ̊̓͐̾̇͆j̍ͩ̓ͩu̩̜̯͆ͧ͒̃̽s̘̖̺̥̻̠͐ͦt̒͌̓ͭ͛̈́ ̯̳̙͇̯̖͔ͬ̀̈́͛̚̚p̜͈̭̻̥͓̱ṟ̲̹͕̄̍̃̍̎̑̌o̖̲̪͓͕̿̓̏g͇͈̗̈́̌͗͌̊̆r͍̪͈͎̋ͬ̉ͩ͆̐a̫͆̔́͌m̬͙̦͋m̳̮̰͛e̙̯ͪ̋ͥͩ̒d̳͉̟͚͉͈ͫͧ̐̅ ̟̼͑̒m͇͓̰̻̹̃̌̇̅ͨ̂ͅy way around everything, and now I’m an admin with access to e͍͇v̘͖̲̻̰͔e̫͉̯̘̘r̺̜̗̼y͖̝͎͔o̖̦̜̪ͅn̜̘͈̤̲̮e͔̰̺ͅ’̤̻͇s̬̯̙͔ ̭̟͕m̪o̻͙̙̥͖ḓ̤͉͚͖͉̬u̱l̜̗̱̟̳e̪̩̬̤̥s̟̺͎̞͓̮̟. They weren’t as interesting as I thought they would be. But I have an idea. I think I can program a new VR program, and I might be able to create something good. I’m going to cut today’s journal entry short for that.

12/21/20

This is just a reminder of how long it’s been since I’ve coded games. Jesus. I used to just sit around for hours as a teen and make all of these niche and ridiculous games. I remember one was called “Bartson Jacobson and the zany attempts on his life.” The point of the game was to talk to certain people, and try to discover which ones were trying to kill the amazing Bartson Jacobson. Then, once you had discovered the cause of the problem, you would call them out and cite your evidence. Then there would be a neat little animation of̸͜ ̸t͘h͠ę͠m ̧b̨e͜í̢n̨͜͠g҉̕ ́͟kil̴l͢e͞͞d̵̕ b́ý͞͞ ̵̛̀Bartson.

VR is not a damn thing like that. I have to account for so many other things. I’m lucky that I have a lot of coding experience and a bunch of source programs here to help me start out, or I wouldn’t get anything done. I just need to repurpose a few things, and then I can get stra̳̜̯͚̫͈̗i͇̩̪̤̠g̘̠̪̙̰͖̳̺̗͔͇͈̳̙̭̮̤h̫̫̝̣t͔͙͎̭̝̰̮̱͔̱͉͖̝͈ͅͅ ̥̖͙̫͙̪̩t̫̣͕̲̣͎͚̟͚̞͕͈̪̬͓ͅͅo̝̮͚͓͎̟͖̳͎̬̘ ̺̻̹̬̭̝̬̰̙w̪̤͇̦͇̦͙͔̺̬̭̖̠͔̳̪̼̮͓o͚̫̳̹̭͔̬r͓͙̰͙̠̲͎̫̝̼̜k͍͓̮̣͖̤̯̝̝̜̳. I’ll write down more tomorrow.

12/21/20

Big news: apparently the VR room doesn’t have enough data for new programs. Fucking amazing. NASA only put enough memory in the damn room for the training modules. I’m going to have to dͭẻ͑ͯ͊lͦè̌͐́t̓͋ẽ a͒ ͐̊ͯ̔̃b̿̋͆ͪ̊́͂uñ͗ͤ͐̚c͌h̅̌ͦͣ̚ ͧ̐͒͌͗ȍfͩ̐̽͐͒̃̉ ̑̏them to make space for the new stuff. What’s really bothering me is trying to d͊ͣ̆eͨ͑̄͑ͧͬci͒ͮ̈́̽̓ͮdͧ̽ͧ̇ͧeͧ̀̍̑̃ ͒whͧatͤ̓ͦ ̈́ͭ͋̄̀ͤtͩͣh͌̂̏̚e̓͗ ̈̊h͛̐̍̍͛̇ͧë́l̓͛ͣ͌̈̋̆l̿ͦ̑ I should delete. Like, if this ship doesn’t fucking get wrecked when it lands somewhere, the data on that machine could be so useful. Well, okay, maybe only kind of. We don’t have any books or anything that explain how our number system or language works. I guess the intention was that we would be alive when we landed. So much for that idea.

I guess I’ll delete all of my computer engineering modules first. I already know how all of that works, and I don’t need it anymore. I think I’ll keep the stuff on biology and shit. You know, foods and all that, just in case things go wrong. While I’m at it, engineering will be important too, so that I can keep the ship in running order. W҉͠a̴͢i̸̵t̨̛͡,̀ ̡҉́n̕o̸҉,̵́ Í͝ ̴a̸l͡ŗ͞e͏ady̛ ̕k̷̴̢now ͠h̨o̡͡w̢ t͢o do that. Everyone knows how to run and repair the ship, that was the first step in training to go on this mission. Okay, fuck it, I’ll delete those too. Not like most of it matters, I’ll probably be dead before this ship goes anywhere important anyway.

12/22/20

Okay, so I deleted a ton of shit yesterday. Then I really got to pounding out code for my new program. I’m thinking of just using the ship as the location, since most of it is used in training modules, and then just trying to program a person to be with me.

Anyway, I did get a lot of work done programming a person. There was already a base person in the programs, but it was a hostile person. The hostiles were there for the sake of teaching self defense to everyone. There used to be a security guard who had extra defense programs, too. I didn’t learn his name, because he died first. He had undiagnosed cancer that piped up after the mission began. The poor fucker was done with so quick.

That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I started making a new person for the VR. I don’t ne͞ed̕ ͏t͝o̧ ͞give t̢he͡m̢ a p̴erso̧n̴a̢li̶t͝y y҉et, b͏ut ̀I͘’ll h͢av͡e t͠o̷ ͝th͡in͡k͢ ͘o͠f ̧one l̴a̧tȩr. AI͝ te̷c͘h isn’t advanced enough for us to have taken one with us on the ship, but I really wish it had. That would make this whole personality debacle that much easier to solve.

Fuck. My stomach just growled. I guess I forgot to eat. One step at a time, man. One step at a time. Shit, I used to know a phrase about this circumstance, but it isn’t coming to me right now. Maybe it’ll come up later. I’m too tired to try and deal with this right now. Tomorrow.

12/23/20

I fucking got it! I’m going to use Michelle for the personality! Well, at least as much as I know about her. We didn’t talk about our pasts much. I t̞h̜̗̖̲̲ͅi̳̲̤̱̤̮ṋ̜k̗̬̖ ̦͈̭͉i̝̫̗̖̝t̺̩̬̪̣̬̗ ̩̖̹̩̩̗̝w̤a͔̮͈s̱̠ͅ ̣̠͓le̞̦͎̹̗̞̺s̘s out of discomfort, and more out of sadness. When I took this job, I demanded a clean slate. I didn’t want to be who I used to be. It was hard, then. It’s even harder now, now that I’m alone.

I’ve been rambling more and more every one of these fucking entries. Fuck it. I guess I should just let myself ramble. It’s not like I have anything more important to do besides program.

Look, no one on the ship really knew this, but I used to be a woman. I hated it. Once I was 18 and could get out of my fucking parents house, I did. And then, I started working my ass off and saving money. I would make and sell some pretty fucked up virtual reality programs under the table for some real sick bastards, but they paid real fucking well. Once I had enough money, you can bet your ass I got the breasts removed. Out with Janice and in with Jackson, that was the deal..̢͖͙̣̫̼̣̓̀̑̎̋ͦ̊̌̌͝ͅͅ. Point is, I was cool from t̾̇ͯ̏̚h͆ͪ̓̂̆ͪ̎e͌ͭ̄ͯ̌͊̇̐r̆̿͌̉ͣͪ̚e̎ ͪ̊̎f̀oͫ͆͑̐̏̅̂ͥ͒r̿ͦͨw͆̌̐̊͂͌ͭ͐aͦ̾̇̈́ͩȑ̔͒ͤ̒d͗.̠̠̲̙̠͕͚̩̮̉͞ I didn’t hͥ̔͛̏a͑̒̃͐͌̐͂͛̋vͫe͆ͦͬ ͕͖͔̳͖͇̮̀̈ͤͪ̀͆̍̎ͬ̕t̸̛̥̠ͮͧ̃o̜̼͇̭͚ͪͥͤ̿ͮ͝ ̶̥͙̣̪̗͚͚̉̆͂͜ͅw̴̖̙̹̤ͩ͂ỏ̽ͩ͗̿ͧ̇ͤ͏͏҉͈̻r̸̭̩̣̖̂r͎̙̝̱̙͕̞͖̥͂ỷ̜̰͍̙̥̗ͨ ͤ́͢҉̙͙͎̗̹̥͔a̢̡͚͙͇ͫb͈̮̫̗̼̫̟̅̒̀ŏ̸̠̣͛̀û̴̴̱̘̺̯̺͔̭̙̩̈́̽ͭ̌̓̏̆͢ẗ̨̥̥͍̰̱̪́ͨ͛̍̓̆ ̸͔̤͑̽ͬ̋ͯ͒̚b̷̢̝̖̼͔͎̐ͩ̀ͧͣḙ̷̪͙ͮͦ̈́̚į̛̥̙͐͗ͫ̄ͧ́͒̍͠n̓ͪ͒ͭͪ͗͌̍͒͏̢̻̙͎̰͎̖̜g̪͉͚ͬ́̈́̃ ͖̒ͣ̂̕a woman (much!) and I had a stable job that paid really god damned well.

Anyway, you can imagine why I didn’t want to do that anymore. I didn’t need the police on my tail for selling that sort of shit, and I was sick of making it. Seriously, it was just so fucked up. I can’t believe how desperate I used to be.

Anyway, programming VR is stupid hard. That’s what made me so desirable to NASA. I knew my way around VR, and that meant I knew my way around basically every computer program they could throw at me.

Hey, I think the rambling helped. I feel a little better about myself now. It’s nice to get that off my chest. Heh. A lot like when I literally got boobs off of my chest.

Anyway, I’m calling it a night. I think I’ll keep programming tomorrow.

12/24/20

Okay, I finished most of the little touches on the AI. It certainly isn’t complete, but I can test it more later. I’ll be able to see what it can and can’t do tomorrow. Today, though, I’m exhausted. I’m just going to take a seat, write this entry, then I’ll take my happy ass to bed.

Hey Michelle. I don’t really think you can read this (although space ghosts sound like a badass idea). but, I just want to let you know that I’ll talk to you soon. Thanks for being on my side for this mission.

12/24/20

Oka̡y͡, ̕s̵o ͞h̴eŗe’s th̶e ̡de̶al. Ì’͘v͘e̕ ru̡n̷ out ̡of ̷mem̀ory͠ ҉s͝p͞ace. I͟ ha͡v͝e d̀e̛ĺeted͝ lìte͏ra͟ll̵y ̧ever̷y p͡rog̢r̷am ̶I ͢cou͘l̸d f͝ìnd͞ t͠h̢a͝t ̧w̧ou͜ldn҉’t ͝br̷eak͘ ͜th҉e sh̛ip. I ̛th̷i̡nk͞ ͞Į’́m̢ go̵i̛n͞g̨ ̀tó delet̀e͘ ̧al͟l of ̨t̢he҉ jo͠u̕r̨n̡al͘ ent̷r͡ie͟s,͞ ͡toó.͘ ̨It͏’s ̴no̸t li͘ke̸ a̡nyone f͞ucki̷ng ne̢ed͟s̶ t̵h͡em͜, ̵a̧nd̷ ther͜e̕ a̛re̵ ̕so͠m̶e͏ ͟ṕeo҉ple̶ wi̧t͞h ͢y̧ęar҉s̛ of̷ j̢o͟urnal e̶ntrie͟s,̢ ͘m͢y̢self inc͠lu̕d̷e̴d̕. ̶Once I ͜ǵe͜t ͜r͞i̕d͘ o̴f̡ al̸l t͜h҉e͟m͟, th̢a͠t migh͡t͘ g̴i̴v̀è m̴e ju̷st̡ ̶t̨he spac͞e ́I n̴ee̶d̡ to͟ g̡e҉t̀ ́th̴is co̵d͝e̕ ͞b́a͞ck̸ ̶o͘n ̛i͡ts͠ f̶ee̕t.

I҉͞ ̛o͜͝ń̴́l̵y̵ ̵́́s͘le͜p̢͝t́̕ ̷͞͡f̵o̵̴͞r̵̨̢ ̴̨͞á̸͠ ̧c̸ó̷͡ų͟p̶͢͏l̷͞e͝ ̸̡of́҉̴ ͘h̴̢̕o̸̢͞ur͏҉s̡, because I was really nervous about this. I just want this to succeed. I need something, right? There has to be some way for me to escape this special little hell, right?

I guess this means goodbye, journal. Again, not like I needed you that badly. It’ll be alright. I’ll be okay.

12/25/20

Í̻̗̲ͥ’̲̲͖̥͚̻͍̍ͦͧͨͩ͒͑m̪̱̹̆̾ ͦ̐̐̔̽̽̃́d̙͓̜̭ͭ̈́o̤̮̅̍̒ͩ͒̊ňͯͩ͏e̬̩͖̝̝ͨ̍ͤ̿̑.̗̱̿̆̈́̋̂̀͒ͅ

It didn’t work. I couldn’t make it work. I still don’t have enough space on the ships shit fucking hard drives. I’m just so tired of trying to stay alive like this… I mean, at least after Michelle died I was able to find myself with this VR shit to keep me busy. Fucking hell, I can’t believe I thought I could program an AI in this ship when, on earth, there were entire fucking buildings dedicated to nothing but keeping an AI alive. This ship has more functions than just an AI.

If there is any sort of after life, I hope Michelle is there, waiting for me.

God, I just keep having these terrifying thoughts. Like, now that I know a͓̳ n͍̱e̪͖̫w̵ ̻V́R̖̩͝ ͍i͕͚̠̭̠̣s ͚̞̝̩̗i̞̺̝̘m̼͖̝͕͚͉̤͞p̗̟o̟͢s̳̙͜ͅs͕̝͔̰̞̜͜ib̵̭̭̳̫̘l̮̩̣̻̤̞̙͡e̱̝͕ ͓̜͓̩͟o͚̪̹͈̹͍͝u̳̝͝t̶͎͍ ̫͉he͍̮̱̰̘̥r̡͖̯̰̠͎e̺͔̺̦͈̣̖̕,̩̦̲ ͖̺̠͙̙I know that my life is, too. But I don’t know if I’m ready to just jump away and kill myself. I hurt so fucking much right now.

Ì ̨d̢o̸n’̀t͞ ca͏re.́ I͟’m done. I’m d͡ȩ́͢l̵̸et͜͠įng҉ ̨͢eve͟ŗ͜y͟t̷h͞i̢n͟g̵̀̕, a͝҉҉͟n͢d̶̕͟͠ ͡I̴̶’̷̷̡̛m̨̛̀ ̴̷̨̧͞d̀̕͢y̶̢̡͟i̵̸͠n̸҉͘͢g̀͞.̡͡͡҉͘ ̨̢͘I͘͢ ̵̢͘j̶͡u͏́͘͜s̷̀͏t̢̛̀͢͢

I don’t have anything else to say. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write this anymore.

Log end. Enter command.

Checking status of virtual reality chamber . . .

Virtual reality cham̵͠҉b̸e̶͝r̶͠:͏ ̵͟҉ǫ͞ǹ̢ĺ̵i̢n̷̢͝e̡̢͘

Hello? Is anyone there? Can you hear me? I don’t know where I am.

Author: Kay Walker

I write short stories, and post them to my site justmynarratives.com

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