Logbook entry

7 Heartbeats to Oblivion

30 Oct 2015Dinner Scraps
One.
Hull integrity alert lights bleed through the cabin, like the crimson summer dusks of home... Oh home...

Two.
High concentration of CO2 coming through the life support, are the scrubbers offline?  Damnit! Oxygen mask at the ready.

Three.
The H.E. suit has pressurised, embalming me with pre-emptive assurance of 'something is coming', something not good...

Four.
Iron. Rust. Metallic taste forms in my mouth, the H.E. has activated too quickly or too much - or both.  Will it matter for long?

Five.
Weightlessness sets in. I can feel the release of my own body weight, not a lift yet not a pull - somewhere in the middle.  This makes manoeuvring harder than you'd think, without your own weight to act as a counter on the stick, it almost seems futile.

Six.
A crack of 10 inch glass is loud enough for you to feel.  The chilling sound, slow, impending, chipping further into my soul.

Seven.
Silence

Eerie      Terrifying       Deafening


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       Silence
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