Mostly fiction. We write stories & make films.
It started with a dream. A nightmare.
I must have dozed off on the train coming back from Mitchel’s.
Mitch lived on the other side of the city, in the kind of neighbourhood that you normally try to avoid…
Written in the morning of Trump winning the election. Edited over a period of several days.
I wasn’t sure the repairs I’d done on the ship would be enough to hold it through space travel, but there’s nothing like the thought of catching spore fever to make you give it a shot.
The damn multitool keeps overheating.
At this point it’s kind of a nice problem to have because of how bloody cold this planet is. My exosuit sensor reads -60C on the surface, but I have a feeling it may be damaged too.