Eighty-Second Entry

March 15^th, 2037

2315

Dear Space Diary

Mary has many fine qualities.

Night time silence is not one of them.

This is not actually her fault, snoring is something that can’t be helped (except by a pillow to the face, but that has other side effects), so I’ve simply moved myself out of earshot and am trying to sleep as best I can. “Best I can” includes sleeping in a spacesuit on distinctly un-flat pink rocks, so my best is not particularly good.

In its defence, the pink isn’t actually contributing to sleep difficulties. It is merely a colour.

The other main problem is that, thanks to the 48 hour days, even though it’s way past my bedtime I have blinding morning sunshine to keep me company. And this spacesuit doesn’t have any kind of built in sunglasses.

I’ve managed to turn myself around in the suit, although that took a lot of leg and arm wrangling. The suit is face down on the ground, but I’m face up. At least it’s dark now.

NASA have yet to respond to my message, although it’s after closing time so they’re probably all asleep. I suppose I should be grateful they were in on a Sunday at all. Actually that is a little odd. After being so adamant that they worked Monday 9-5, ever since my contact changed I’ve been getting messages at all hours.

Kind of hard to tell who it is under all the voice modulation (I assume that’s the static from long distance), but they do sound a little different. Still, I suppose I should be grateful of more frequent contact.

2320

The back of my space suit is really quite boring. I’d like that noted.

2330

So tired. Think I’m… finally… falling…

“Wake up!”

Urrrgggh. What is it, Mary?

“You’ve got a message from NASA.”

Spoke too soon.

“Did I?”

Not you, NASA. Ok, give me a minute and I’ll check the message.

“Ok, but hurry up. I need your spacesuit.”

Alright, hang on.

2335

Ok, here you go.

“That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

What? If I’m in the suit back to front, it blocks out the sun. Helps me sleep.

“You’re weird.”

I’m fairly sure we’ve established that. Go dig a hole or something; I’m going to read this message.

2440

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

I DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME. THE COMMANDER WILL BE BACK ONLINE SOON. I CAN’T BE FOUND OUT. I FORWARDED YOU A LIST OF MISSION PERAMETERS.

YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO HAVE THIS LIST. IF THEY FOUND OUT I SENT IT TO YOU… WELL I WON’T BE ABLE TO SEND YOU ANYTHING ELSE.

EVER.

I’VE PROGRAMMED THE TRANSMITTER TO AUTOMATICALLY ARCHIVE FROM NASA’S LOG ANY ENTRIES MENTIONING PERAMETERS 234.10.

ANY TIME YOU MENTION THE CODE 234.10; THE MESSAGE WILL BE AUTOMATICALLY MOVED TO MICROSOFT OUTLOOK’S TRASH BEFORE IT CAN BE READ.

AND THIS IS MOST IMPORTANT. DO NOT LET MARY SEE THE PERAMETERS.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

2442

…NASA use Microsoft Outlook?