LOG ENTRY 001

  Timestamp: 00:00:13

  Oxygen Reserve: 94%

  Distance from Station: 12.4 meters.

  Routine maintenance. Panel 07B. Minor coolant leak.

  Tether secured. Helmet clear. Comms stable.

  Stars unusually dense in visual field—possibly a positioning error. They’re unusually bright today.

  Might be nothing. Just... feels closer.

  LOG ENTRY 002

  Timestamp: 00:21:47

  Tether detached. No mechanical failure logged. No motion was recorded before the event.

  One moment, I was there—attached, grounded.

  The next…drifting.

  I called out. Static.

  Tried the backup channel. Still static.

  Station comms offline. Emergency recall module unresponsive.

  I’ve begun slow drift.

  Just need to stay calm. RCS controls might realign once power stabilizes.

  LOG ENTRY 003

  Timestamp: 00:27:11

  I can see the station. Small now. Shrinking.

  Wait… No. That’s not right.

  Hull plating looks wrong. Lights on the aft section flicker in patterns I don’t recognize.

  The station’s name—wasn’t it Thesius?

  Now it reads AURELIA.

  That’s not the name. Is it?

  LOG ENTRY 004

  Timestamp: 00:42:08

  Stars aren’t in correct alignment.

  Constellations missing. Some new ones in their place—spiral-shaped, pulsating faintly.

  It feels like I’m moving faster than expected.

  But my suit telemetry says otherwise.

  I tried pinging Earth.

  The frequency auto-corrected mid-transmission.

  Returned a message I didn’t send.

  It said: “You are seen.”

  LOG ENTRY 005

  Timestamp: 03:22:01

  Saw a suit in the distance.

  The same as mine. Same model. Same serial ID as mine.

  Suit is torn open. Visor cracked.

  Corpse partially decomposed.

  Jaw slack. Expression blank.

  Face is my own.

  LOG ENTRY 006

  Timestamp: 11:11:11

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I thought I saw the ship again. But it was… not the ship.

  It had windows. I could see something moving behind the glass.

  It waved at me.

  I waved back.

  LOG ENTRY 007

  Timestamp: [ERROR]

  [SUIT BIOS REFUSED ENTRY]

  [RECORDING RE-ENABLED]

  Second body passed. Then a third.

  Each version of me.

  Some newer. Some older.

  One was missing its helmet.

  I watched it turn to face me.

  LOG ENTRY 007

  Timestamp: [CORRUPTED]

  I don’t think I’m recording anymore.

  The logs just echo back whatever I say. Like the void is repeating me.

  I called out. Heard it twice.

  I don’t know if I’m broadcasting.

  I don’t know if I’m speaking.

  I don’t know if I’m here.

  Am I?

  LOG ENTRY 008

  Timestamp: [???]

  There was no station. There was never a station.

  There was—never—

  …no. Wait.

  I remember the wrench. I remember the blue logo.

  But the logo was red.

  Wasn’t it?

  I was never fixing a panel.

  Wasn’t the panel already fixed?

  LOG ENTRY 008

  Timestamp: [∞]

  There was no station.

  There was never a station.

  There was never a station.

  There was never a station.

  There was neve–

  [No further entries recorded]

  It’s quiet now.

  I haven’t been logging.

  Not really.

  I keep telling myself I’m keeping track, but the suit’s dead. Has been for a long time.

  I stopped trying to speak. I think I forgot how.

  The others don't talk as well.

  They just drift.

  One tried waving at me again. I didn't wave back.

  I think he's angry with me.

  He's refusing to even look at me.

  Sometimes, I see light blinking in the far distance.

  I imagine it's a rescue beacon.

  I know it's not.

  But I still drift towards it.

  Because pretending is better than nothing.

  But as soon as I get close to that blinking light.

  Nothing. It turns off before I can close it.

  It was as if someone was playing a joke on me.

  Maybe it's him? The thing looking at me.

  I think the light is watching me now.

  It waits until I blink. Then it flickers. Always just at the edge of my vision. Like it knows how far I can see, how long I can last.

  Maybe it isn’t a beacon.

  Maybe it’s an eye.

  I tried to look away once—just once—but when I turned back, I was closer. Too close.

  Like the space in between us had vanished. Like I’d skipped time.

  I passed another body this time.

  It was me like the rest of them. But this time, older.

  I looked like a grandpa. Funny. Never thought I'd become a grandpa.

  I sometimes wonder how Madeline is doing.

  She's smart. She will be okay without me.

  Wait...

  Who's Madeline?

  There’s another version of me farther ahead.

  He's still moving. Still kicking his legs like it will do something.

  Poor bastard. He hasn't figured it out yet.

  There's no hope for us.

  Or... Maybe he has? Maybe he is pretending?

  He could be bored after all. I'm bored.

  I try to think about home. About Earth, again. But every time, I feel like the image of it is just within my grasp. It just disappears.

  I wonder if this is what death feels like.

  No light, no fires, no silence.

  Just... drift. An endless drift.

  Sometimes, I think I hear someone else breathing. But it’s only ever when I stop. When my mind goes still, and the stars stop rearranging.

  But then I hear it. Again. And again.

  Slight rhythm. The same rhythm. Inhale. Exale. But not from me.

  I don’t want to know what it is.

  But I think it wants me to ask.

  And then. sometimes—I do hear it speak.

  Not in words. Not in anything I can replay or log.

  But in understanding. A thought that appears like it was always there, like I’ve carried it my whole life, waiting for it to hatch.

  "You were the first."

  No, that's not right. It felt wrong. Off.

  “You will be the last.”

  Maybe? That sounded more correct. But, still. It felt slightly wrong.

  I closed my eyes for a while.

  Not sleeping, just resting them.

  But when I opened them again, the light was behind me.

  That wasn’t right. It was always ahead, always forward, like a hook in my chest. But now it was behind, and somehow even brighter.

  And I was closer to it. I never turned. I never moved. But the distance was gone.

  Or I was.

  I think I saw Earth again.

  It spun like it usually does. Blue, and green. But it was too clean. Too neat. Too... perfect. No satellites, no light. Nothing. Just a ball of green and blue.

  And then it blinked.

  The whole planet.

  All at once, like a camera shuttering after a picture. Like the void itself had just noticed me.

  I heard music today. It sounded familiar. Nostalgic.

  It sounded like the song my mother would play when she cooked us food.

  I had a thought today.

  I’ve started to wonder something.

  What if none of the others are all me?

  What if it was always the same person—just wearing a different version of my skin?

  What if there is only one of us, and we just… take turns?

  I saw a version of me today that had no face.

  Just a visor filled with static. It looked like a TV.

  And the TV flickered through different channels. A black and white film with two women just staring at each other. A film about a dog eating a boy. A news anchor talking, repeating the same word over and over again.

  And he—it—laughed.

  I don’t think it was mocking me.

  I think it was relieved.

  The breathing got louder now. Closer as well.

  I realized it wasn't coming from inside of me.

  It was beneath me.

  It wanted to play.

  And so we played.

  I asked it what it wanted once.

  I didn’t speak aloud. Didn’t need to.

  Just thought it—like an itch behind the eyes.

  I think it said:

  “Nothing.”

  I try to remember my name again.

  It comes to me, but it isn’t mine anymore.

  It feels worn out. Like a suit passed between strangers.

  The light blinks again.

  Closer.

  So close, now.

  I can’t tell if it’s reaching for me or waiting.

  Maybe there’s no difference.

  I’m not cold.

  I’m not afraid.

  I’m not alone.

  And now that it’s quiet—truly quiet—I think I finally understand.

  I was never logging any of this.

  Not for the station.

  Not for Earth.

  I was talking to you.

  Can you hear it, too?

  The Spine of the Fallen God, my main dark fantasy/LitRPG novel!