Entry 7 - Death
rating: +3+x

Testu #2
Got lost in the view.

Testu #3
Currently kicking.

Imagine my surprise, waking up covered in goop, everything is cold and dark. There’s a statue of Ucello of all things sitting next to strangely nostalgic tent. For a second I thought this was my final dream-like hallucination of my warped childhood memories as I rotted away on the ground. Then I realized I was in a replicator.

I followed that magic compass in my head through these trees until I found the journal, and me.

One step too far back, ground gave way. Broke my neck. Kind of an anti-climatic death.

I don’t remember anything past my body falling apart as I hit the button on the replicator. But it looks like I predicted this in the most me way possible, with that snarky note. I spent the rest of the night reading through everything I’ve written so far. Looks like I have to pick up where I left off.


I gathered up the tools I’d made. By some miracle the water bottle hadn’t broken. Cushioned by one of the softer parts of my body, I’m sure. Speaking of, I had to deal with the old me.

After closing my eyes and crossing my hands on my chest, I left my body to become the sustenance for whatever freaks call that ravine their home. Not that I didn’t feel for it, my body’s just another tool, and when it’s broken beyond repair I have to let it go. Just another habit of a former nomad.

Makes me wonder, though. Was that me? According to the company, the replicator transfers your consciousness and memories to your new body. I'm sure they have ways of proving it, not that I've seen them. But what if it's really just a cloning machine? What if I really died, and I'm just a copy? What if?

It doesn't really matter. I can't know for sure while I'm stuck here. And as long as I have the replicator, some version of me will escape this place.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License