Interlude: The Fall Of The Zubrin: Part 1

REPAIRING CORRUPTED FILES. PLEAE STAND BY. PLEASE STAND BY.

COMPLETE. TRANSMITTING NOW:

October 24^th – 2015

My name is Maria Harrison, Captain of the Zubrin, and this is my story.

…does that sound too pretentious? I hope not.

Call me Mary.

Launching today! We’re set to launch in good weather, though I guess that only applies until I leave the atmosphere. Is there weather in space? There are radiation showers. Meteor showers. Solar showers.

Space seems to have a lot of showers.

Actually I haven’t had a shower yet, so I might continue this in just a moment if that’s ok.

__

Gosh, this is so exciting! What a great honour. I’m the first person to ever set foot on Mars. I’m going to be, that is, we haven’t actually got there yet. And I’m the first woman to leave Earth’s orbit, too. Two birds, one stone! Or is it, two milestones, and one bird?

How I hate that term. I’m not a bird!

I’ve never been more excited. I can’t believe NASA picked me. There were so many applicants, and I thought my lack of family or medical history (Does the shoebox they found me in count as family?) would rule me out automatically. There’s generally a lot that can rule you out, so the other hopefuls told me. Diabetes? You’re out. Low immune? Strike two.

I didn’t see Claustrophobia on the list. What’s worse in space?  Claustrophobia or Agoraphobia?

Wow. I really am going to another planet. I so want to do this properly for NASA.

Speaking of, that’s them now.

__

I’m a bit embarrassed. NASA just told me off for using official logs like a diary. I didn’t realise they were monitoring these in real time! I’m sorry.

I guess I’m lucky I didn’t start the entry with Dear Diary, or something.

__

NASA felt bad about telling me off. I can write whatever I’d like, given they need as much information as possible. They’ve been SO kind. I’ve never met a more considerate and efficient organisation.

It’s a bit daunting, though, to think that this might be read by millions of people, as the story of Mary, the first person on Mars! I’ll make sure to write everything down. It’ll be a scintillating page turner I’m sure, full of nonstop excitement!

__

We don’t launch for another six hours. Hmm.

Oh, neat! They’ve got Solitaire on the computer.

__

NASA messaged me, to congratulate me on my high score. They’re so sweet. They did ask if I could do an inventory once I’m finished though, IF I wouldn’t mind.

Of course I wouldn’t mind! Silly NASA.

__

Everything’s here on the list. Two spacesuits, Building supplies, an EVA vehicle, and 100 processing units. I’m not sure what they’re for. Do I need instructions on the processing units, NASA?

__

No, it’s all automatic, they’ve told me. Excellent! One less thing to worry about.

I’m a little hungry. Might eat.

__

Wow, this nutritional paste is delicious!

Fiftieth Entry

March 11^th, 2037

0010

Dear Space Diary.

With NASA still avoiding me, and no immediate end to the tube in sight, I may as well get some sleep.

0015

I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep though, with everything that’s happened. Sleep seems like the last thing -

1043

On the whole it was probably just as well I didn’t finish that sentence. Less embarrassing that way.

Just woke up, evidently I needed the rest.

And we’ve landed, too. I don’t know how long we’ve been sitting here, but Lightdog is gone and the Zubrin is grounded once again.

Or… hmm. Concreted.

That’s a little weird. But there’s concrete out there. At least it looks like it. Smooth and grey, with just the slightest hint of pink, suggesting that, while out of place, it was at least made from local materials.

Seems to have crumbled around the Zubrin, whatever it is. Maybe we hit the ground hard. Is that what woke me? I don’t think so.

I better take a look outside.

1047

Space suit on. Here we go.

1050

In a word: Weird.

In two words: Really weird.

The tube exits into a large but smaller than I was expecting room. No other tubes exit out here so presumably there’s a room for each one of the hundreds of other tubes around here somewhere. Presuming they all go to the same place anyway.

On the wall opposite the tube is a massive (and I mean massive) spinning device that must create the air flow into the room. It’s grilled, fortunately, so even I had been sucked into the tube I fortunately would not have been dismembered.

Probably still would have gone splat though.

The floor does indeed look like concrete, but something’s wrong with it. It’s so fragile it’s literally crumbling under my foot, almost like sand. Pinkish, concrete like sand.

The ship’s really done a number on it too. Fortunately there’s something harder underneath, and I’m not about to sink into it.

Because I really don’t feel like doing that.

To my left is a set of very large sliding doors. To my right is a much smaller access door, but no handle I can see so presumably it slides open as well.

Which it’s doing now. Crap! Better hide.

But the room is completely empty except for me, the Zubrin, and whatever is about to join us.

1052

Hiding behind the Zubrin. Feeling extremely silly.

Door’s opened.

…It’s a Lightdog.

Different though. The one’s I’ve met so far are yellow. This one is blue.

It’s floating across the room. Not heading towards me though, just hugging the wall.

1054

It’s reached the corner.

1059

Seems to be just combing the floor slowly. Not sure why. Maybe it really likes floors. It’s an alien. Who knows?

1103

I’m sure it must have seen me by now. I guess blue lightdogs don’t have sensors.

Either that or I’m really uninteresting. Either/or, I suppose.

1106

That’s impressive. It’s just reached my footprints, and a blue beam shot out of it. It’s repairing the floor as it passes over it. Like I never even walked there.

1110

Wonder what it’s going to do, when it gets to the… oh.

“No sensors” was right. It calmly, slowly, and methodically scanned the floor, ploughed straight into the Zubrin, and crashed to the floor.

That was actually somewhat hilarious.

Well, they’re machines. The light is gone, so I think it’s broken. There’s a small cylindrical little device that floats in the middle of all that light. Can’t see a propulsion device, but given the whole ball of light, tractor beams, cutting torches and magic floor cleaner, I’m willing to accept I don’t exactly know how they work.

Bit scared to pick it up, so it can just sit there for now, looking stupid.

Hmm, the door’s still open. Might take a look outside.

 1115

Oh. My. God.

It’s a city.

A pink city.

Buildings are stretching underneath a huge clear bubble as far as I can see. They’re all exactly the same height, which is to say, tall. I can’t believe NASA didn’t spot this on their scans.

Actually, how DID NASA not spot this on their scans?

1122

Taking a closer look. The buildings are actually pretty similar to ours. No weird alien glass or physics defying sculptures here. Just giant uniform slabs of pinky concrete with windows in them.

To be honest, I feel a little ripped off.

No aliens around. Or indeed living things of any kind. Plenty of lightdogs, but I’m not sure they count anymore. Mostly blue ones, mostly repairing and cleaning, so I guess they’re the maintenance ones, with yellow being waste processing, or something.

1125

This is a ghost town. I’ve peeked in a couple of buildings, but there’s nobody there. Just empty concrete rooms.

Unless…

… Maybe the aliens are INVISIBLE!

I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before! There could be thousands of them around me right this second!

Keep calm, keep calm. Don’t panic.

1126

AAAAAARRRGGGGGGGHHHH!!!

THUMP.

Ow.

Ok, may have panicked just a little bit. Ran straight into the side of building.

And through.  There is now a crumbly me-shaped hole in the wall. Further to that, the floor is crumbling under me.

These buildings are made of the same weak-ass concrete as the floors. I don’t get it, why would you a tower out of such a weak, unstable material.

Speaking of unstable, what’s that rumbling sound?

Oh.

Crap.

Get out, get out, get out!

1129

Phew. Made it out and back to the door I came in by. The building is collapsing, sending dust everywhere. I’m going to hide out in the Zubrin until things settle. Strongest thing here it seems.

1131

Heading back to the ship. That lightdog is still broken, so I think it’s busted itself good and proper.

Hang on, there’s something on the side here.

1133

…

1135

…

1137

…WHAT?!!?

“Property of NASA.”

Forty-Ninth Entry

March 10^th, 2037

2015

Dear Space Diary.

Twenty minutes of travel and no end in sight. I know we’re travelling pretty slowly, but how far does this tube go?

I’ve spent the time having another look around the ship. I’m more and more convinced that the Zubrin had a fairly large cargo and some external engines when it left Earth, but both are gone.

It is possible they broke off during the flight, or it was left on or around Mars before it somehow ended up here. Somehow, I don’t think so.

2017

NASA, I’m reporting in. Currently travelling down Alien Death Tube towards its origin.

Hoping origin is Death tube is not Death. Hope not necessarily high.

Still don’t know why Lightdog is taking me. It seems to be a basic retrieval device. I’m more inclined to think robotic than alien, but who knows.

I can see light shining through the tube walls. I think we’re back on the surface.  I never saw these tubes on the surface. Then again, I haven’t exactly explored every inch. Or indeed, more than one inch. I all saw was my landing site, the pit I landed in, and a straight line between there and the rubbish pit I ended up in. Not really enough to make a conclusive analysis.

Hang on, NASA sent me a map shortly before I landed that they’d mapped out by telescope. It looked pretty barren, but maybe I missed something. I better take a look.

2020

Wait. NASA sent that to MY ship. I’m not in my ship. I’m in the Zubrin.

Universe: 1, Ability to think: 0.

NASA, if you’re reading my entries, please send me another map, I want to look for structures or evidence of the tubes.

2050

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

UNABLE TO SEND ANOTHER MAP. WE SENT YOU OUR LAST ONE. BESIDES, THERE WAS NOTHING ON THERE THAT LOOKED LIKE STRUCTURES, SO YOU WOULDN’T NEED A MAP ANYWAY.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

2055

Um, ok. Hang on, aren’t they digital? Couldn’t you just send me another copy?

2130

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

UM, YES.

SYSTEM CRASH.

BUGGER.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

2135

That’s a fairly amateur mistake, NASA. You really should back these things up.

Please collate another map for me ASAP; I need to check these tubes out.

2210

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

THANK YOU FOR YOUR DEDICATION TO THE MISSION, BUT WE JUST CHECKED. THERE ARE NO TUBES ON THE MAP.

YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK AGAIN, IT’S ALL GOOD.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

2213

…I thought you sent me the last copy?

2300

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

THE DEPARTMENT YOU ARE TRYING TO REACH IS NOW CLOSSED. PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

2303

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

BEEP.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

2320

Ok, what the hell is going on NASA? You landed me here and told me to explore, why when I finally start are you being so evasive?

2315

Also, you misspelt closed.

2355

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

*CLOSED.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

Forty-Eighth Entry

March 10^th, 2037

1930

Dear Space Diary.

Déjà vu, we meet again.

Lightdog, for reasons unknown, has now stolen my ship while I am in it.

Twice.

Last time, it was my hated faster than light capsule, which I’ve found I need to get back if NASA are ever going to find it again.

This time, it’s the Zubrin, the first ship ever to go to Mars, and less publicised the first ship ever to promptly vanish after getting to Mars and be found twenty years later on an alien planet it should not be on.

NASA seem less surprised by this than they should. I’d pester them further, but I’ve had more immediate concerns.

Oh yes, like the fact that I’ve been stolen. Again.

I’m not sure I understand this one, though. I get the impression I was tossed down here in the rubbish cave because I was considered “litter”, and therefore had to be cleaned up. All well and good, by which I mean neither well or good, but can follow the logic at least.

So why would I be picked up again? I’m already rubbish. And where am I being taken?

Well, Lightdog?

1932

He’s not answering.

1935

We’re flying pretty slowly. The Zubrin’s a lot bigger and probably heavier than my old ship. I’ve probably put on a few kilos thanks to all this paste, too. Oh, and the lack of exercise.

I think, though, that we’re heading towards the mouth of the tube I destroyed.

Probably a bit too high to jump from, even in lower gravity. Broken legs don’t sound inviting at the best of times, let alone now.

Can see the rubble a bit clearer from up here. The whole thing looks a little less chaotic from up here. Rocks are thrown down by Lightdogs, and the tubes hoover them up.

This strikes me as a very mundane thing. First contact with Alien life. Do I find a warship, or a high tech, computerised city?

Nope, I find the local recycling centre. Just great.

1940

Tube is a long way up. Lightdog seems to be struggling a little to lift the Zubrin, but we’re still rising, so he’s managing it.

We’re very nose heavy it seems. Front of the ship is hanging down quite strongly, meaning the floor’s on quite a tilt.

Seems odd. I’m no engineer but I would have expected the back to be heavier, since it’s full of engines and rockets. I know the fuel tanks are probably empty, but still.

1945

Checking out the back of the ship. This is really weird. The engines are tiny. No way could they have used this to escape Earth. They must have had booster rockets and dumped them once they took off.

So, how was the Zubrin going to take off from Mars?

In fact it’s pretty empty back here. Just rows and rows of empty racks labelled “Processing Units 1-100.”

I wonder what happened to them.

1948

We’re in the tube.

Forty-Seventh Entry

March 10^th, 2037

1850

Dear Space Diary.

What off Earth?

Yesterday I saw Mr Rock, inside my space craft, get vacuumed up by an alien death tube.

Yet here he is, sitting outside the Zubrin with a smug, stupid smile on his face.

Admittedly, I drew the smile with a permanent marker, so it’s kind of my fault if he looks unnecessary smug.

But this doesn’t answer the main question. How did he escape? How did he get here? And more importantly, why?

…Mr Rock, are you alive? Have I in fact discovered the first silicon based life form in existence, only to draw a smiley face on it? Or am I just being paranoid, and there’s some other reason that a lifeless rock could disappear only to return?

Am I in the presence of a space magician?

1852

Mr Rock, if you’re alive: do something.

Wait, that’s not fair. Who says life has to function the same way that life on Earth does?  What if inactivity is the norm for rock based life forms?

1854

Mr Rock, if you’re alive: stay completely still.

1900

…That proves nothing.

1903

Ok, you’re freaking me out, Mr Rock. I’m going outside until I decide what to do with you.

1905

THUMP.

1906

Opened the door. Nobody. Mr Rock is sitting there, though he’s moved slightly. Weeeeiird.

Stop that, Mr Rock.

1908

THUMP. THUMP.

1909

I said stop it!

Ok, get a grip. You’re currently yelling at a rock to stop annoying you. Think about this for a moment.

Hmm.

1910

THUMP.

Right, that’s it!

1912

Opened the door. Mr Rock is gone.

But instead, there’s a Lightdog.

1915

Who isn’t doing anything.

1917

Look, what do you want?

1919

Forget this. I’m going insi –

THUMP

1925

Well, it was Mr Rock who was making that noise. But it wasn’t his fault.

Lightdog appears to have been throwing him at the door. I know this, because he was a little too quick this time and threw it before I’d actually closed the door.

Something I’ve also discovered: Mr Rock packs quite a punch. He bounced off and landed outside, so I shut the door before Lightdog could get in another throw.

There were some instant ice packs in the cabinet, they’re helping keep the swelling down, but it’s sure going to smart in the morning.

Speaking of, I should get some sleep. I have to figure out how to find my ship in the morning, and I have no idea how.

A good night’s…

THUMP.

…sleep’ll…

THUMP.

…make all…

THUMP.

.

…the difference.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

Ok, that’s enough! Stop it Lightdog! Bad Lightdog.

1927

Opened the door. Mr Rock lying near a couple of fresh dents in the door. Grabbed him. Try throwing him now.

Lightdog doesn’t have a face, but if it did I hope it’d have the decency to look sheepish. What are you going to do, steal me again?

1929

…That wasn’t a challenge, you know.

Put. Me. Down.

Forty-Sixth Entry

March 10^th, 2037

1825

Dear Space Diary.

I have now eaten, washed, changed my clothes, and been to the bathroom. Feel immeasurably improved. Pretty damn tired, though.

Also, Lightdog has been watching me change clothes. I don’t know if that’s not as bad or far worse than it sounds.

I’ve been thinking, though, I’m not sure they can see at all, although they certainly act like it. Creepily, too. It seems more that they home in on things, for whatever reason, and then just wait for their surroundings to change, and then react. So what is it? Magnetism? Changes in air pressure? Telepathy? Some form of alien Feng Shui?

So it probably didn’t notice or didn’t care that I was temporarily unclothed before I found the space suit. But I sure as hell care. Freaks.

1835

Taken a brief look outside. Air recycler in the suit works like a charm, but didn’t feel like staying out too long anyway. Far more comfortable inside, and anyway the helmet’s a bit claustrophobic.

The tubes are gone. The lightdogs returned and have been busy in my absence. There were about 10 of them out there, patrolling the now much smaller (but still bloody massive) pile of rubble and other assorted rubbish. The remains of the tube I blew up has been cut up and stacked neatly in the corner. One of the lightdogs was busy cutting up another piece with a laser emitting from itself.

Overall it all looks much neater out there than before the tubes arrive. I’m beginning to suspect that the lightdogs are less dogs and more clean-up crew. I think that’s why they through me down here, they thought I was rubbish.

I resent that.

What that doesn’t explain is why the place was so messy before the tubes began taking the rocks away. Hmm.

It’d be easier to think if I didn’t have this headache from that beeping noise that just keeps droning on. I wonder what’s causing that any… Oh blast. NASA! I completely forgot about their message. They’ll be closed now too, so they won’t get any reply until the morning.

1837

Yep, it’s a message from NASA. Marked “Urgent,” too.  Whoops.

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

LOST SIGNAL TO TEST FTL CRAFT.

UNABLE TO TRACK LOCATION ON PLANET WITHOUT SIGNAL.

RESCUE CRAFT CANNOT RETRIEVE YOU.

RESTORE SIGNAL ASAP, OR RESCUE CRAFT WILL HAVE TO ABANDON MISSION.

YOU BETTER NOT BE JUST LYING AROUND. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SIGNAL?
__

<END TRANSMISSION>

1840

Oh hell. I hadn’t even considered that. Sure, they can find the planet, but it’s a rather large planet. Without it, it could take months, maybe – ugh – years to find me. I’m not sure I have that long. This ship is 20 years old, who knows when the warranty expires?

I’m guessing the Zubrin doesn’t have a tracking beacon; either that or it broke down a long time ago.

BANG

Something just hit the side of the ship. Investigating.

1845

What the?

It’s Mr Rock.

Forty-Fifth Entry

March 10^th, 2037

1710

Dear Space Diary.

Previously I was covered by a closet, two chairs, a table, and some kind of space suit coat rack. Now I’m covered in a large amount of very cold, very blue, very sticky paste.

Oh, AND a closet, two chairs, a table, and some kind of space suit coat rack.

So it’s not really an improvement. Not as such.

The paste is beginning to harden however, which is what I was hoping would happen. With any luck, as it hardens and it increases in size, it will be able to force the rest of this junk off me.

1725

Paste has been going for a good 20 minutes now. That’s a lot of paste. Still not working.

1730

Still nothing, but it’s all drying out pretty quickly. Hopefully will start moving soon. I may need to find a new set of clothes after covering them in all this paste. And hopefully a clothes peg.

Had I mentioned the smell?

1733

I think it’s starting to…

1734

SUCCESS!

Closet is still on top of me but the chairs, the table, the spacesuits and the rack all just slid off. Going to be a heavy lift, but… ugh, yes, I can move the closet ever so slightly.

Now if I can just get my arms under… good… now start to lift… and…

1736

It’s off! I’m free! I’ve escaped! Take THAT, junk pile! Me: 1, Junk Pile: 0. I win. I beat you. I am smarter than you.

…I smell TERRIBLE.

1805

NASA, you really skimped when it came to building my ship. The Zubrin has EVERYTHING. Just had a shower with instant water, using instant soup, and dried off with the instant dryer.

Even though I’m the only one around here (certainly the only one around here with eyes, sorry Lightdogs, Mary), I don’t feel entirely comfortable wandering around naked. Definitely not going outside without clothes. There are certain things I’m prepared to expose to an uncharted, inhospitable alien world.

But that’s not one of them.

1811

There are clothes here, but Mary was a little less muscly than I am.

Alright, less bulky.

Alright, less fat.

Stupid honesty.

1814

There are however, spacesuits in this ship. An essential part of any spaceship, in my humble opinion. NASA clearly disagrees with me, but in this ship, there are spacesuits.

The good ones, too. Not like those giant white monstrosities from the 60s. These are truly one size fits all. If it doesn’t fit, it changes until it does.

And oxygen recyclers! These filter anything useful from the outside atmosphere, combine it with carbon dioxide, and add it to a base store of earth atmosphere concentrate. It’s not infinite but it’s pretty damn good.

This means I’ll now be able to venture outside a little more, without being restricted to 30 minutes out, followed by six hours in.

Comfy, too.

Now I’m pretty much ready to – GAH!

How long have you been watching me, Lightdog?

Forty-Fourth Entry

March 11^th, 2037

1545

Dear Space Diary.

Ok, that’s enough paste for the moment, I’m full up.

Things have improved at least. Yes, I’m still trapped under this closet, but at least I’ve eaten. I can relax a little now.

1550

I need to go to the bathroom.

1600

 A lot. Ok, I have to get out from under here.

The console’s been beeping at me nonstop for the past hour as well. I’m guessing there’s a message from NASA waiting. Sorry guys, but I’ve got a lot on my shoulders at the moment. And the rest of me. You’ll have to wait.

So the question is, then, how do I get out from here? It’s too heavy to move. I guess I could wait and hope that the rock pile collapses again and the stuff slides off me. On the other hand, I see a few more heavy looking cupboards that could just as well decide to pile up on me as well.

After all, everyone else is doing it. Even Mary, though she seems to be sulking in the corner since I used her as a grabbing device. Or maybe she just rolled into the corner. She’s only a skull, after all.

1615

Nope. Nothing. That beeping console is getting really annoying though. As is my need to use the facilities.

Maybe some food will help me think.

1617

...Ok, that’s disgusting.

Looks like I forgot to turn the tube off after I finished eating.

There is now a great big pile of blue gunk next me. It smells terrible. And the tube is imbedded in it.

Sigh.

1625

Took some doing, but I’ve managed to get the food tube out. Turns out that stuff goes really hard, really quickly if you just leave it lying around.

What a positively vile substance.

1655

I’m pretty sure I’m going to do some permanent damage myself if I don’t get to the bathroom soon. But I can’t get up, and the alternative is not one I’m prepared to consider at this stage.

Oh brilliant! The rock pile is rumbling again. Come on, shake this stuff off me.

1658

...OW.

The pile of things is where it was, which is on top of me. The other cupboards have yet to join us, which is something.

The large pile of blue gunk, however, decided it’d very much like to get to know me better, and just collided with my shoulder.

Which now bloody hurts. That stuff is really hard.

Hmm.

1702

Now, this seems like a stupid idea. But. If I jam the tube between me and the closet, and turn it on, if this works, it will hopefully harden, and if I keep piling it in there, may be enough to push the closet off me.

If it doesn’t work, I’ll just have covered myself in blue gunk.

I kind of miss being lost in space. It was simpler.

1705

Oh ew. This stuff is gross.

This plan had better work.

Forty-Third Entry

March 11^th, 2037

1440

Dear Space Diary.

I’m so hungry. Need to eat soon.

I know people have survived for longer on little to no food. They’ve probably been through ships that were harder than the hardships I’ve currently faced. And many have been trapped under closets before.

True, they’ve probably not been trapped under a closet on an alien planet after narrowly avoiding being sucked into an alien death tube after being kidnapped by strange dog like ball of light alien thing, but a closet’s a closet.

But you know what? I’m hungry. So cut  me some slack.

Or better still, some cake.

Mmm. Cake.

1500

I’m sorry, I got distracted for a minute there. I was thinking. Thinking about cake.

1520

Damn, it happened again.

1525

What makes this all the more frustrating is that a nutritious but undelicious food is only centimetres away from my outstretched hand. The tube that feeds out the nutritional paste came loose in the crash and is now lying next me.

But I can’t move my hand close enough. And the ship is lying on an angle and I think I’m starting to slide away.

What’s more, my elbow is currently being eaten by the 20 year deceased former pilot, Mary. Well, not actually. She’s only a skull. (the rest of her is around here somewhere. I’m worried she is in fact in the closet that’s pinned me) So it’s difficult for her to eat, well, anything, given she lacks a stomach or other essential digestive devices. But she latched on to my elbow as she rolled past.

Hmm. She’s pretty good at this whole gripping thing.

...And she seems quite big headed too. Not literally, she seemed quite humble in what I read of the logs. But, um, literally, big headed.

Hmm. An idea presents itself. A rather tasteless, tactless, disrespectful idea.

1533

Respect be damned, I want food.

Took some doing, but I managed to dislodge Mary from my elbow. She almost made a break for it (as only a rolling skull can) but I managed to catch  her before she escaped).

Now, let’s see what we can do.

1535

Holding a skull in such a way that you can attempt to latch onto something with its teeth is harder than I previously thought. Most of the, um, holes, are on the front. But I’ve got a grip on the back now. Trying to nudge the tube over to me.

1536

Dropped it! I dropped Mary! She’s rolling away. Come back Mary!

Phew, caught her with my foot.

Ok, gently, gently lift my leg. Ok that’s as far as it’ll go. Now reach down...

Got her! Ok, let’s try this again.

1538

Nudged the tube a couple of times. Not really moving yet. I’ll try again.

Good angle... come on, I want... some... food... Did it!

Ok Mary, you can sit over here while I eat.

1540

Oh that’s good. Food. Yum.

1542

...Stop looking at me like that, Mary.