The Station, Part 47

These new eyes both intrigue and disturb me. I am seeing things that perhaps no human eye should perceive, which further lends to my belief that which each passing moment, I am a little less human. So when did the changes to my vision begin? Days ago? Or when I first entered the cave. Probably the latter, as I noticed nothing unusual until after the crystal had broken. The changes to my eyes are useful, a seemingly purposeful alteration. Like my longer legs, leaner build. I’m now a prime example of a great design for long distance travel. Millions of years of evolution probably could do no better. But what of my others alterations? The loss of my fifth toes for examples? Why that particular change? Was it because it was simply not needed for my newly sculpted feet? They certainly are far superior version to the ones with which I was born. And most fascinating of to me—my extraordinary sixth fingers, so different and alien. An addition that proved useful when climbing a tree. But I strongly suspect that is not its true purpose. It is more like a modification for a very specific function, not a general one. For all other circumstances, it is rather extraneous, but not a burden. In fact, my grip strength is marginally better, a slight difference when I had a mere five digits. I did after all, drop the crystal. A move that saved my life, yes, but also proves that these hands aren’t improvement in that area. It’s more a matter of delicate control perhaps. So then, what is this mysterious purpose they serve? I obviously haven’t had the need yet, but they have been helping me in food gathering. Perhaps with my new hands, am I meant to climb trees. No, that’s not it. But they’ve proven their worth in that area.

It’s still good to be speaking to you after all this time and the changes I have experienced. Even though you’ve never responded I haven’t lost hope that you’re still out there, trying to get in. I thought of Frontier and her exposure to the outside. That seems like the perfect scenario for my freedom. An opportunity that apparently was never taken. Which meant there was a chance that you are not there at all. But I dismiss that notion. An object of this size does not go unnoticed by the vast network of sensors buoys, satellites and starships that crisscross space. There is someone monitoring this, watching, waiting…and listening. Listening to all the sounds of life that should seem impossible, but is. And somewhere there’s a receiver, probably many transceivers, hundreds of them in fact, that are translating my data into text that is scrolling across screens, holding my audience in rapt attention, waiting for the next installment like rabid fan base. That’s what I hope. I don’t want my words to merely disappear into the ether. I wish I could know that all this effort was for something. That what I report will not be dismissed as some delusional ramblings by an insane naval officer. Navy? Am I in a navy? Yes, goddamn it! I’m Lieutenant Bradley of the station Frontier! I’m Bradley! Bradley! Bradley! Bradley! You hear me! Whoever the fuck you are! Whatever is changing me! I am a fucking human being! No matter what you do to me, I’m still a fucking human being! Don’t forget you it! Or you’ll be sorry! You take away my humanity and I’ll make hell! I promise you!