Dove Levy: Way Station

I feel on the cusp of breaking down, so I’m keeping myself cheery. The happier I look, the happier I’ll feel, and the farther away from having a panic attack I’ll be. My bracelets are helping more than faking smiles, but the thought of my parents—

I hope they’re okay. I hope I’ll be home soon.

Storms are near-constant, now. We can’t go outside, even within the station borders, and I hate that. I hate that so much, I hate being forced inside, I hate the lights. I don’t want light, I don’t want to see anything, I don’t want to be reminded that we’re the only people here, that we’re up on this planet, that we might not be able to get home. I want to go outside, sit in the darkness for hours on end. The darkness is natural, easy, calm, peaceful. Comforting. More comforting than my bracelets. But we can’t go outside, not anymore.

The land is swarming with aliens, as common or more so than those in the wild parts of Earth, and these aren’t scared of humans. We don’t know which ones are predators and which are prey, and we don’t care to find out.

Several have gotten into the station by now, but it was nothing too eventful. We caught them, we studied them, they turned into puddles of goo shortly after death, and we still have next to no information about them and what their functions are, what niches they fit into, what the food chain is like or if there even is one.

I’m tired of hearing thunder.

I miss the stars.

Day 54 of our stay at Facility L. One day, one entry, but man, these things are becoming boring.

Status update: nothing has happened. Again.

Well, mostly nothing. There was a leak in the piping for the farm’s hose, but duct tape patched it up, and that’s about the most exciting thing that’s happened for three weeks. No fungus. Yet. I’m still not keeping my hopes up.

I don’t think they’re coming. Funding ran out. That’s the only explanation I’ll accept. They’re not sending anything up for us because there’s no more money to do that. People finally stopped caring about the space program, and if they tried to get pity money to bring us home, they’d then have to admit to sending us up here in the first place, and all the dangers they’ve put us in by not allowing us a professional team accompaniment. They won’t do that, so.

Day 54. Been almost two months since we got here. I’m coming to accept our situation. I’m done waiting.

Every day on this planet, my nickname for it feels more and more fitting. It started off as a joke, but it’s not anymore. I finally told Eve what it meant. Well, I would have told them a long time ago, but they never thought to ask until just now.

POGE. Proof of G-d’s existence.

There’s so much life here, despite the death that surrounds us all, despite no sun. No sun, and still a planet abounding in life.

And we’re still surviving. That alone is proof enough for me.

Copyright © 2018 by Dove Levy

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