CAPTAIN'S LOG: STORMDATE TWO-ZERO-ZERO-SIX, ZERO-FIVE point ZERO-TWO . . .
Spark is dead.
My dearest companion, whose faithfullness and ready wit inspired all my authorly creations is gone: swallowed by the energy draining madness of Planet Work. The shitstorm swirls about me and I am surrounded by deepest despair. How can I go on without Spark? My life has been spent in pursuit of the dream; of being Captain of the USS AuthorPrize . . . and now that the dream seems almost within my grasp, I've lost my Spark.
The shitstorm is worsening and I have no words to tell you how deeply I feel the loss of Spark. My only hope, though it is a faint one, is this place where Spark died . . . If there is a more abundant source of fertilizer in the universe, I cannot conceive of it. Perhaps, if fate is smiling upon me, Spark may raise again from the knee-deep mire of shit through which I struggle.
Perhaps.
In the meantime, I must concentrate on my own survival. If I allow myself to fall . . . there is no hope for Spark at all!
<transmission ends>
