:AAO: Ali's personal journal

Ali O. 187.929mpc, 1989ce.

    I haven't written in ages, haven't had the voice for it. We just crossed through the tunnel and I can see the lens blur. The "object" is shifting off one eye, omega serpens drifting up slowly. We have hours to chill before the next hop. I have never been here // I have // before.

    Dear diary,

What transpired in this last hop needs to be unpacked. Just a few hours ago, we were underway. The ship was in its lane, the wind was steady, Alo walked into the cabin to gather the ribbon.

I watched her expression sour for a moment as she cut the tape. She smirked and walked out, the old window making her hair appear to wobble as she stepped into starlight. A pile of curvy thick curls pinned up on that head, Wilma Flintstone the grease monkey. //Lol//

    So what happened was after this, she showed me the job, it was barely a clue. We just punched in the numbers and kept guessing as we rode the turbulence into the hop. There right at the last second, something caught my eye in the sails, something that grew out of a spark. Something that grew into a cloud and enveloped us all, blacking out the sky, the event horizon, everything.

In that second I shifted with it, into and through it. I ejected out of the sudden cloud as soon as I entered it. Accelerating hard. Burning into ashes before I could react. Then I was born, lived and died as something I cannot remember. Then I was born, grew into the earth and bore a seed, buried somewhere.

    Then I blinked and Alo cut the ribbon.

    I am beginning to remember, and now the job is beginning to make sense. We are still in the wind tunnel, and this is only the last fragment of our ship. We have already gone ahead, I am only beginning to catch up. //Keep going//

 

 

 

 

// I was hovering around my tank, observing the seams and rivets, to make extra sure nothing got in or out. Ali has such delicate handwriting, but he takes forever. I don't mind really. It beats holotrips. //