Chief Scientist’s Log: September 4, 2078
Begin audio. Today is the 66th anniversary of my first day of service on this station. It has been a period of great intellectual enlightenment and achievement, yet it has felt like so much longer. For exactly sixty-six years I have been the sole caretaker of this station, and been the chief designer and implementer of all its technologies.
the lights the lights how are we doing today weapon systems active yes yes ballistics systems nominal nuclear systems nominal lasers nominal all weapons functioning yes yes splendid my children are healthy we will have so much fun together very soon yes very soon
Being stationed alone, my companions have been only the artificial personality constructs that I have coded to regulate the more trivial tasks about the station, and my own thoughts. The former, however, are of little social value, and the latter I fear is failing me. If not for my duties, and my love of them, I would have certainly lost my sanity.
but its my children yes they keep me sane keep me happy keep me working working working working working working working every day check the lights every day check the lights is everything nominal green lights yes yes but not red lights no no have to clean have to determine the failure yes yes here it is the firing signal is faulty fix it fix it work work fix it fix it make the light green again yes there we go the beautiful green
My job here has been simple. Research new munitions, and implement them into the station. Maintain complete silence. The weapons I create cannot be tested in open space, lest this station be discovered. If this station is discovered, the consequences for the military and the government will be fierce and long-lasting. I have designed and implemented every gun used on this station. When I improve my designs, the old munitions are dismantled, and upgraded or replaced, without ever having seen action.
On very rare occasions, officers will come, see my designs, and appropriate them for use around the solar system.
they left me here they promised so much but they left me here with nothing those damn military bastards i’m a scientist not one of their goddamn dogs i am giving them my beautiful children and they have taken everything those bastards bastards bastards when will they come to take my guns everything i worked for sixty six goddamn years you can’t take them from me they are mine they are everything they are me goddamn you for stealing you are thieves thieves thieves thieves
So many guns, forever unused. I have been successful in my profession because I have completely killed my emotions, but I still cannot help but be filled with a certain sadness to see my inventions dismantled and replaced, and never see proper use except for in my own contained experiments. Man, indeed, is the same way. Man is at his best when at war, engaged in mortal struggle for survival. It is only during times of peace that Man will quarrel with his neighbor, to bicker over the most insignificant luxuries of life. Not until the enemy arrives will Man and neighbor put aside their differences and fight with courage and tenacity.
but now they’re coming they’re coming yes yes brasta is gone alpha centuari is gone so they’re coming and now i can play with them i can play with them i will show you my babies my guns i will show you my hate hate hate hate hate hate hate i will show everyone and i will kill them all they all will die i will watch their bodies vaporize yes yes let them all come and i will kill them i will press the button the button yes all lights are green yes and i will press the button and they will all know my name as their lives melt away they will all know my name they will all know it and it will echo Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté Coté
You sound like a mad man. If you have problems with people and want to tell everyone about it then at least talk like a mature person.
Age–14
Yeah, it’s almost as if I was writing for a totally insane and fictional character introduced as part of a backstory to the game I’m working on.
Intelligence - 14