Cycle 135
I was awoken by a distressing series of beeps today. It was a projected proximity alert for a solid object a year away. It has a significantly high silver content, and it sails in the shadow of the moon, but it is larger than a mountain. It is set to swing past my station, pulling me along just a little with its gravity. That is nothing that a minor instance of course correction cannot fix. However, it is also set to collide into the Earth, and pierce its crust like a [NO TRANSLATION].
I understand that we ordinarily leave the endangered species to sort out the issue on their own, however, I have taken the initiative to perform more than a few calculations, taking into account the [UNIT OF MEASUREMENT FOR FORCE?] output of even the global armory and the best possible reaction time, I see one of two outcomes for this.
One is complete and swift annihilation, as the silver [BULLET] strikes the planet and incinerates the majority of the surface in a single indiscriminate instance. The only life the survivors will know will be short, hungry, and subterranean. Alternatively, if they manage to deflect it, it will already be too late. The [BULLET] will scrape against the planet’s atmosphere, heating it to significant heights in a matter of hours. After that, due to the compounding issue of their greenhouse gasses, the planet will continue to heat as additional substances are released from the melting poles. The majority of the land will flood. The majority of life will die. The heat will grow to points that most species will not be capable of living in. Assuming humanity survives, it will be a watery torment. With proper management, they might just survive. The planet is unlikely to heal, rather it will be [MADE ANEW], becoming an unfamiliar place, as the evolutionary arms race begins again. An alien place awaits humanity there, or what remains of humanity. Regardless of who it is, this planet’s future inhabitants will be trapped here, debris of the [BULLET] continuing to orbit the planet, slamming against all manner of crafts and satellites at high velocities.
There is another option, though a niche one. The [REDACTED] Accord will permit us to [SAVE] the remaining humans and save them from their impending Armageddon. They would not be happy with the insurmountable cosmic debt it would accrue, however.
I will descend once more, to continue my studies. I will assure myself that it will provide me with the clarity of mind needed to make this choice. She has called me a “good listener” before.
Cycle 149
[RECORDED AUDIO. THE TEAM WAS GETTING TIRED OF TRANSLATING, SO THIS WAS A PRETTY NICE BREAK. THE LADY’S ACCENT WAS ROUGH TO TRANSCRIPT THOUGH. -Anna]
“Spill it, sister.”
“Sister? We are not genealogically related.”
“You dork. You know what I mean.”
“I- yes.”
“Are you doing okay? You usually laugh at that and call it ‘Quaint’.”
“I-… I think-“
“And you’ve been staring out the window for a while? Are you waiting for something?”
“No! No. Nothing like that.”
“You hiding somethin’?”
“I- Yes. I will admit to that. But-“
“So tell me! Come on, you know you can talk to me!”
“Of course, but this isn’t something I can talk about! I’m sorry!”
“That’s… okay. You just sort it out, and I’ll be here when you do.”
“Thank you. Can we, uhm, perform a reading. I could really use some peace of mind, about this.”
“Oh of course! Three cards?”
“Three cards, please.”
[THERE’S A PAUSE HERE AND THE SOUND OF SHUFFLING CARDS OVER THE CAFE’S AMBIANCE. LOCATION NOT KNOWN. STOP ASKING. -Anna]
“Now let’s see… I’m sure it’s- oh.”
“The results?”
“You sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“The Hermit, The Tower, The World”
“Okay, but what does that mean?”
[END OF RECORDING]
Cycle 180
I have not returned to that place since. I went with her to her domicile. Beatrice, I mean. I experienced a human ritual of affection. A kiss. Several. One that lasted a lot longer than I believed it would. A “Cuddle” was something I was familiar with. Effectively a [NO TRANSLATION] for Admin. I stayed the night there, but she had caught me staring into the night sky. I did not need as much sleep as she did. And I saw it. A gleam at the edge of the moon. Like any other star in the night sky. I had read that the formation of stars was another means in which humans attempted to determine the future. She asked me what was wrong. I still could not tell her. Not of my mission, her fate, her species’ fate, not even a glimpse of what I was beneath the modifications. I just looked up, and she looked up with me.
I have not returned to that place since. I refused to touch the soil. I could not bear to look at that face again, knowing it would either be drowned, evaporated, or [REDACTED]. There had to be something I could do. At the doors to the tower. My Station.
I will return tomorrow.
Cycle 185
She wasn’t there. Not on cycle 181 to 185. Not for a second. I should’ve called her. I received a text, numerous, in fact, a machine I hardly understood, only wielded to better fit in with the populace. It was mostly a series of greetings, but it ultimately ended in anger. And when that anger ended, it was one simple message.
“I hope you made the right choice”