Seventy-Fourth Entry

March 15^th, 2037

1130

Dear Space Diary.

Digging continues slowly. We’ve cleared out the top of my spaceship. Was a happy moment just to see it again. Lots more work to go before we can actually get in to the ship, but at least we’re making progress.

Mary continues to complain about, well, everything. That her hands are sore. That we’re not taking enough breaks. That we’re not going fast enough (largely because we’re taking too many breaks). That digging is boring. That I’m stupid. That the spaceship is stupid. That pink is a stupid colour.

“That you keep narrating everything you do.”

…That I keep narrating everything I do. Really wish they’d sent Bobo the Wonder Dog instead of me. At least he could have played fetch with the lightdogs.

“And he would have smelt better.”

Sigh.

1222

Reached the top of the windscreen.

1244

There’s Mr Rock! I can see him sitting contentedly on the floor of the ship.

“You have a pet rock. And you named him Mr Rock?”

…Nice to have some intelligent company at last.

“Hey!”

Mary appears to be a 40 year old mind, trapped in the body of a 24 year old, trapped in the hormones of a 17 year old. It’s an amusing combination.

From a distance.

She’s got a good throwing arm though. Ow.

Come on, let’s get on with it.

1355

We’ve managed to dig out a furrow to the door, meaning we can now just pry the door open, although not enough for me to fit through. There’s not really a lot in there beyond Mr Rock and the remains of several hundred paper cranes, but it feels oddly comforting to no longer be separated from my ship.

It’ll probably take another week to clear out the rest of the ship, and then another day after that to push it out, but unless anyone has a better idea –

“I have a better idea.”

Unless anyone else has a better idea, then I suppose –

“No, really. I know a way to get it out of there in about five minutes. And I’m not digging for another week. Really. Not going to happen.”

Dreading asking you this, but ok Mary. What’s your great idea?

“Simple. I read your logs. We do what we do when you were trapped in the hole you crashed into. We fly it out.”

That didn’t work so great last time, Mary. What makes you think this time will be better?

‘Simple. This time I’ll be piloting it.”

…There’s no way you’re piloting my ship.

“You took MY ship without asking. Fair’s fair.”

I’m really not sure this is a good idea. Last time I was in the empty wilderness. We’re in a city this time. You could hit a building.

“You already knocked over one building. And you blew up the roof, so I’ve a clear shot out. Besides, you’re too fat to fit through the door.”

I liked her better when she was a skeleton.