Orbiter

On March 7, my entire crew died of poisoning. I can’t explain much else. All connection to the outside world has been severed.

Myself and the bodies, which are already in the process of decay, float in an endless expanse around Jupiter. From the window, I can see Io’s eruptions in the distance.

Further autopsy of the bodies has revealed nothing. None of the communication equipment is functional. I’ve tried to repair it and nothing’s changed.

It has been a week. I don’t feel alone in any kind of way. I feel exactly the same, and I can’t explain why.

I hope that one day, this short written work will be found by other people. They can see what happened and hopefully take precautions in the future. Last week’s occurrence was preventable.

Callisto. I can’t find words to describe it. It’s beautiful.

Jupiter. I am proud to have been able to see it. It’s like one massive watercolor experiment. I often think about going in my suit into space and getting dragged towards it, rushing into the clouds. It’s a suicidal thought, of course, but purely one stemming from curiosity. I deeply enjoy my position here. I want it to continue.

I’ve been repairing the satellite’s consoles and often checking the code on the computers. I still can’t figure out what’s gone wrong, and at this point, I’ve accepted that eventually I’ll die like the rest of the crew.

Currently, I am unsure as to whether I should throw the bodies out so as to not contaminate anything or to preserve them, so that scientists on Earth can study them.

I listen to the drone of planets in my downtime. I hear chirps from Jupiter. They are discordant but ultimately soothing.

I play chess with the AI onboard. It’s good, but I’m better. I raised the difficulty after a long while of hoping it’d be able to do something interesting.

I’ve elected to only throw out the bodies already showing severe signs of decomposition. I plan on moving the bodies that are still relatively untouched by decay into the freezer, as unprofessional as that may seem. I feel, obviously, quite a lot of regret over this. It’s no proper burial for an astronaut, but I assume I’d get the same treatment if I were one of the poisoned.

Four weeks. The satellite is holding up nicely. I am surviving. Every day, it says we drift away from Jupiter’s orbit by an inch. My calculations show that we will accelerate.

I have beaten the computer at chess again. I will stop playing for now because there’s no point in doing anything else.

Sometimes, I sort of just lie there for hours. In space, people say that time tends to pass slowly. With so little visual or sensory stimulus, you get bored quickly. I don’t feel that way. I am what I am, no matter the environment. All I can do is lie there.

When I update the equipment, time seems to pass by quicker, or maybe that is wishful thinking. Maybe I just want the time to pass quicker, so that’s what I say. Being an engineer in this scenario is both rewarding and upsetting. I wish I had the others back. I can’t bring them back, and the corpses are biohazards, even in the freezer. Given that rescue is not on the way yet, I think I will have to throw the bodies out.

To those who may have needed them, I am sorry.

I lie on the hammock. I feel totally empty inside.

I tamper with the lights aboard the satellite, because they’re already flickering.

I feel a profound connection to the satellite. A year of being on it and it’s become an extension of me. Its panels and grooves and sections are my wings that I use to fly.

I’ve programmed the chess AI to beat itself. Black wins exactly 50% of the time, White wins exactly 50% of the time. I watch them, as if I’m a man on Earth, observing ant colonies fighting. The tiny colored pieces on the screen flicker back and forth, and in maybe 10, 20 seconds, the game is done.

I have thrown out the bodies. I saluted them as they drifted off. For a time, I watched with binoculars aboard the satellite as they drifted towards Callisto. They burned up and slammed into the tinkling lights of the giant. A few seconds later I saw, faintly, almost a visual representation of the mens’ souls leaving, a large cloud of dust where they landed.

I don’t think they actually have souls.

But it was a poetic way to put it at least.

The chess AI has beaten itself 8472 times today.

I have programmed another third ‘ghost AI’, because I don’t have the means to add new pieces to the screen. It moves randomly and invisibly, striking down the least threatening piece on the board, usually severely exposing one of the teams, making a quicker victory. It makes the games more interesting.

I observed from a distance the bags of protein-infused food that my companions once ate. I want to throw it away.

Last “night” sleep was rough. It felt like I was imitating sleep, not actually sleeping

when will this end

if i wanted to, i could calculate the amount of times that the chess AI has been fighting itself. there’s no point to doing that. so it won’t be done.

exactly why don’t they come over

why can’t i be helped

an astronaut is dying aboard a satellite with valuable information

doesn’t that sound bad

i blame whoever is reading this i blame someone else for this tragedy

i have done everything i could do

momentary lapse of composure

i feel so connected to the satellite. it’s as if i can crawl inside the wires. nestle in them. the flashing red lights and buttons and the dying machinery that just won’t quit, the doors that are opening and closing, draining the satellite’s power. it’s all me at this point.

i had to shut off the lights. they have no purpose anymore. i can see well in the dark.

the view of jupiter makes me feel as if i’m closer to home than ever

momentary lapse of composure

………………

i suddenly feel as if i have lost the use of my legs there are no properly reflective surfaces here. i cannot feel my face. or see it

why did i lose so much hope

I need to gather myself together.

I have continued toying with the chess program’s code in order to keep my mental health in good conditions.

The rogue invisible enemy has been deleted. Instead, I have programmed the highest level of the AI to have a 6% chance of error. Instead of playing perfectly, it will occasionally make a massive blunder.

It feels like that is what I wanted to originally do with the invisible enemy. The reason for all of this was that I wanted to see a story unfolding. I wanted to see perfect strategists who made one lapse of judgment only to lose everything. It’s much more engaging that way, I believe.

I have lost the use of my arms.

I feel afraid.

There is something that I’ve been lying to myself about over and over again for what feels like months. And I don’t know why, and I don’t know what originally made me like this.

There will be no rescue team.

I cannot feel anything anymore. I wonder if this is what starving to death is like. But I don’t feel like I’m dying. I feel more aware of the satellite than ever. All I do is repair. Repair. Tinker. Repair. Tinker.

I am holding myself together. All sensation has been lost, but I know that this isn’t the end. I know that this isn’t the end, because after a week I am still not dead. That means that this is just an odd bump in the road. I am still fully functional and living and alive and i am alive and there is no point in