Captain’s Log: June 15th, 1930
Lost my day job. Faith’s getting worried already. We have a little money saved, and I do have some ancestral funds she doesn’t know about. But you know the rules, less sticking out the better.
We’ll survive. I’m just not sure how yet.
Leo over and out.
Captain’s Log: June 25th, 1930
I hate interviews. The savings Faith knows about is almost drained already. We just paid our bills. Faith is pregnant. Which is supposed to be a gloriously happy time. But she cried herself to sleep last night, tears wetting her strawberry blond hair and the pillow under her head.
I can’t use a lot of the money stored when times were good.
It’s too bad I can’t just use the ship’s solar panels to power my home, but alas, rules are rules.
Can’t use anything the humans’ don’t have to get ahead. Or even stay afloat.
Leo over and out.
Captain’s Log: July 5th, 1930
I got a new job!
Problem: Faith is still worried as hell.
Because my job is apparently dangerous. See, I’m a new blattnerphone operator. And while trying to edit the sound on these steel tapes, sometimes they snap, and sharp steel flies across the room. People can die from the injuries.
I spent the whole day reassuring Faith I was going to be fine. And the money is good, since it’s a dangerous job.
The money from this job means we’ll keep the house warm and lit up at night.
But Faith is afraid I’ll die.
I won’t. Not by blattnerphone.
Leo over and out.
Captain’s Log: July 13th, 1930
I’m not dead.
Just saying.
It was close.
I think some of my coworkers might think I died on the way to the hospital with the way I was bleeding. Faith would have thought I was dead for sure. There was blood everywhere.
A piece of shrapnel caught me in the chest, would have sliced itno my heart too if it wasn’t for my instincts kicking in, ribs growing larger inside my chest cavity. The steel would have cut into my heart if my ribs didn’t protect it. As it was, it nicked a pretty large artery.
I said I’d go to the hospital, no ambulance. Instead I came here and had the ship’s med bay sew me up And give me some spare blood. Which it is probably time to start donating to the ship again. Never know when I might need a pint. Or the next half Qwortarian needs some. Even on board, with technology far beyond most human’s capability of dreaming on, the blood cells only last so long.
But I’m fine. And if I don’t get home soon Faith is going to start freaking out.
Note to future Qwortarians, avoid dangerous jobs. We can survive most things yes, but remember the point is to stay under the radar, not be paraded about as some miracle survivor.
Leo over and out.
Word count: 496
