Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

In that not-sure-whether-I'm-falling-asleep betweenness, I imagined what signal SETI may someday find and decode, reaching us from some distant star:

10903-400-13-05 30:15
Mood: frightened
Music: The Qizmorphs, "Death of an Age"

I'm not sure why I bother to write this blog any more, now that I've verified that I am the last of my race. I guess it beats twiddling the thumbs I no longer have, but I don't know whom I expect to ever read it. Is there a point to writing for an audience of zero? If a tree falls gracefully in the forest and nobody is there to see it, is it art? At least it gives me something to do while I wait to find out how long these machines can keep my brain alive. Not that I'll ever be able to write up the final results of that experiment, of course, or that anyone will ever read it. And if some alien species discovers this planet after I am gone, will they even care about medical information about a species that no longer exists?

When the cancer destroyed my body and they hooked my brain up to these machines, I never thought the result would be that people like me would outlive the doctors and everyone else. But one by one the other brains-in-jars have fallen silent and I am alone, apparently not immortal after all. Maybe if I switch the old communications antennae onto the network that carries these thoughts to the blogging system, I can pretend that some distant race is reading this. Perhaps imagining that will keep me sane a little longer in my loneliness. Or perhaps imagining that means that I have already gone mad.

Dear interstellar readers; today I beat my old high score in Hong-Ex. Since you're not from my culture, I guess I'd better explain how the game is played. You start with a grid of squares, and the computer designates some of the squares as having bombs in them...