Bradley poked the tablet and began his log.
“The time is 13:42 on day 237 of Dragon Solo. It’s weird to say this, but it really has taken me until now to get comfortable being alone here. The movies, time table, and audio books helped a bit- but after so many days I guess you just get used to the emptiness.
“That said after 237 days what much is there to say? I’m still in space, I’m still breathing. Plants are doing fine as they were yesterday. Oh! Oh wait something did change. I’m pretty fascinated by the adaptability of our algae- they’ve formed a protective coating from the silicone we have in their dishes. It took me a while to notice the degradation, but it came upon me this morning. I assume it’s due to radiation exposure, but they seem to have mutated under the pressure and the silicone shell they’ve created refracts the incoming rays just enough to protect the algae from further damage. I’ll be sure to grab some samples for better imaging once I’m back on Earth.
“I guess that’s all for now- it’s not like today is going to get more interesting.”
Bradley’s smile faded. He leaned back and kicked off the wall, sending him down the hallway. When he reached the end he somersaulted, kicked again, and floated through a hatch. He passed the floating soil where the plants he kept used to be, and grabbed a handful of it. It was fertilized with his own waste, and felt warm to the touch.
He continued on as he ate the soil, passing the green sludge squeezed between a monitor screen and the wall. Crazy little buggers, he thought, just how did you make that shell? It’s keeping you nice and tight here up in the big old black. What wonders evolution can bring.
At last he came to his sanctuary, where in his shrine the white gave way to the darkness of his own body. He settled into a meditative pose, floating there he stared at his new god. The dark one, with yellow eyes, its head connected by tendon-like teeth. It watched over him and protected him, demanding his sacrifices of filth and blood.
I am only a humble servant, I come from the lowest depths of being. I ask of you oh, holy one to guide me into oblivion. And the image stared at him, ever guiding him to his eternal soul.
I dunno, It’s dark in my office when I write. Stay sane, my friends.