Nothing of note.
The little joys of discovery in this station have long been exhausted. Applause, applause – Lenaxliud is mobile! Nudging it a notch along nearly any axis requires such recalibration to find my original subject again that it’s best left stationary. The only move that maintains a semblance of focus is forward, but then why bother with all the lenses on the great periscope when one can merely approach the subject?
The last occupant hid little nothings across the station. Neither reason nor system are clear – bits of writing tucked between desk ends, wire strippings left in neat piles in the drawers, coded messages in the instruction scripts. I don’t know which would be worse: that the occupant began its tenure with such a disarrayed mind, or that this is what I must expect to become of mine the longer I remain here.
I’ve cleared away the obvious clutter in the periscope chamber and the corridor. Who knows what lies in wait behind the scant other doors in the station? Not counting the rubbish I’ve stashed in there, of course; the recycler stopped working before I was able to make the space beneath the grand periscope even tolerable, so I’ve made use of closets and compartments until I can find the proper manual to repair it.
All while watching a likely insignificant speck.
Sally forth to oblivion, I suppose.
Unacceptable. Unbelievable. Unconscionable. Unduly unearned. Unfathomable, even. The irony must be sumptuous, of course – I refuse to make a single observation of a painfully plain nature, and the Quintessence condemns me to “observe” the “goings-on” in a fleck of green slime twisting in the Astral Sea. A lifetime of peerage, stolen and sold for a fraction of eternal solitude in this grand device.
Lenaxliud. The decommissioned experiment of a realm of record. The post had been abandoned so long ago that the Main Archive only maintains its name – no messages, no recordings, nor even a roll remains without digging through backup files and cryptic texts. There are no observations to be made here, so whatever lesson the Quintessence hopes to impart on me will be as lost as my standing.
Be that as it will. I’ve not even time to lose. My sanity, perhaps? With naught but my own voice and the hum of Lenaxliud to keep me company, what benefit would sanity offer me, anyway?
Nevertheless, if I’m to exist and operate in this space, I must at least make it navigable, efficient, and aesthetically satisfactory in the meantime before my release.
Life in the Void
Where I wallow in my miserably wasted talent until they allow me to return.