Entry 1 - Rocks
rating: +6+x

What a predicament! And I mean it this time.

I don't know who might end up reading this or when, but I know somebody will. And it looks like I'm about to have a lot of time on my hands.

Not now, though. Now I'm rotting from the inside out from the lethal dose of radiation that my body just took in stride. I'm writing this down in-between episodes of puking my stomach up. Literally.

You know what? Give me an hour or two to die first. I'll need a hand that's not rotting off if I want to get all this down.

That's better. Now I can explain what's going on.

I've gone by a lot of names, but on my homeworld I was called Testu-Yuteskon. I'm a Wanderer, like the others you've probably read about in the library. Yes, I know you're there in the library, I'll elaborate on that later.

I've spent time on plenty of worlds and universes, but now I guess I have a new one to call home. I suppose it's nice, reminds me a lot of Earth. I'm not a human, mind you, I've just spent a lot of time there.

On my off-time I like to chart the uncharted. Flying through space, keeping an eye out for anything interesting. That was life until a few hours ago. It happened fast, so I don't have many details. I'd parked my craft in orbit around this planet. It was the only one with life I'd found in a long time. From what I can tell, it's in a tiny elliptical galaxy, orbiting a single F-Class Main Sequence star. It won't do you any good to try and find me, I'm far beyond any scopes.

Anyway, my reactor melted down. And I try as I might, I couldn't save it.

Once I knew I had taken too much radiation, and the reactor was past the point of no return, there was only one thing I could do. I ran to my replicator, and rolled it to the teleportation pad. I went to the cockpit and put in some commands to the controls, made sure the craft would warp away in ten minutes. Better not to leave it to contaminate this planet when its orbit decayed.

I limped to the teleporter, even as I was coughing blood. But most of the remaining power was going to charge the warp core, and there wasn't enough left over to teleport everything I needed. Once I'd removed all of my gear, there was just barely enough for me and the replicator. Oh, and my journal.

It sent me to a random spot on the ground. Luckily I already had a body loaded up in the replicator. I knew the one I inhabited was done for, so I walked away until my legs gave out. I knew my body would be radioactive for a long time, and I couldn't have it interfering with the replication process. I jotted down that opening you just read, and resigned myself to die.

Then, I woke up in my new body, the one I'm using now.

I may not have anything anymore, but I technically have immortality. And this journal.

I bought this journal from a shop in the Library. It's at the Fourth Wing if you want to pick up your own, tell them Testu sent you, you definitely won't get laughed at. Anyway, the journal's nothing special. Nice leatherback, cellulose paper, invincible to fire, water, ice, or vandalism. You know, a journal.

I got mine with some extra perks, though. It's bonded to me, and I'm the only one who can intentionally damage it. Another spell ties its location to me. I know exactly where it is at all times. That'll be useful for any hiccups I have down the road. I know I'm going to have a lot of hiccups.

So let me finally summarize my predicament.

I'm on an alien world with nothing but the tattered clothes on my back and a body-replicating machine. The only way out is to build a new spacecraft and warp core from scratch.

I'm going to be here a while.

I landed in the afternoon, I spent the night sleeping against the replicator, building my strength. Now the sun's come up. I guess it's about time to get started.

Like I said, I had to leave all my gear on my spacecraft. I don't want to fiddle with the replicator, there's a lot of hair-thin components that keep it working, and if it breaks, I'm good as dead.

It was time to truly start from scratch. I grabbed the two closest rocks to me, and smashed them together until I'd made some crude blades. The replicator needs two things to make a new body: water, and organic matter mashed into a paste. Finding fresh water is my current priority, but I should get a head start on the organic paste.

There's grass here, or something similar to it. It's a much lighter green than something on, say, Earth. Almost neon, with flat ends. Seeing as I'm the only sapient creature on this planet (that I know of), and probably the first to set foot on it, I'll take it upon myself to name what I find. Starting with… Neon Grass.

It covers the rolling hills around me, moving in the wind. Watching it flap around, some of them become darker, like a wave. It sort of gives off the illusion of moving stripes. Evolved behavior, or just coincidence?

Whatever it was, I grabbed a few handfuls. Now to mash them up and shove them in the slot.

There we go, I can hear it buzzing now. But to get a fully developed body, I'll need a lot more… and some water.

Time to explore.

I never elaborated, did I?

I've spent plenty of time in the Library, reading through the sciences, history, art. So much that wasn't available anywhere else, and why is that? It's in the little orientation that they give all the newcomers. Every book ever written, or will ever be written is in those halls. And at the end of the day, this journal is a book. I don't know what shelf it will appear in. Whether it will materialize when I'm done, or if it already has and these words are being added as I write them. Either way, you happened to find it, you nameless library patron.

Maybe you're watching these words appear right now, or maybe it's been two-hundred years, and you were the first to pick up some dusty cover you saw as you perused the shelves. Who's to say. But I do hope you get something out of this. Even if I don't.

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