I’M LOST, on some alien world.
But I can’t seem to remember how I got here. It’s as if my memory has been washed clean; no name, no face… no recollection… I do, however, remember that I was cataloguing things. Things like plants, life forms, formations, worlds!
Intriguing, but why?
The red sky and landscape flood my vision through the long day. At night the cold bleeds through the layers of shielding on my exosuit when I’m outside. I return quickly to the ship. I’ve got a backup generator working, it’s the only thing keeping me warm.
I’ve examined the ship’s vital systems and there be woes and grief… so yeh, it’s in need of repairs; pulse engine and thrusters are critically damaged. What a mess, how did this ship end up so badly damaged?
I know what needs to be done, seems strange that I do, but I still wonder if I’ll ever get it repaired. I need to craft Carite sheets, the planet seems rich in iron so I should manage. But I’ll need other resources, which might pose a problem.
I found some parts, which I can use to reinforce the shielding, they’re damaged but I should be able to repair them. Still, I have to begin searching for resources needed to get the ship operational.
Outside there’s sparse life scattered about, mostly harmless from what I’ve seen, so I’ll be cataloguing everything I come across and updating my progress while I’m searching. I feel that’s important, so until I remember why I need to catalogue everything, I’ll keep doing it.
Just checked my food and water supplies. They’re low, I mean dangerously low; so there’s no time to waste. Move, move, move!
Καὶ τὸ ὅλον τοῦ μέρους μεῖζον [ἐστιν].
And the whole [is] greater than the part.