S1E33 - AZARIAH - Sometimes I Hear Fragments of Other Transmissions

There is, unfortunately, no escaping physics. Bound by the speed of light, even information must take its time to get birds going. And as we move farther into the void, that time grows until the distance becomes unspeakable.

Bro, you won't believe it. I finally got a message back. Not from you. It was from someone in the infantry, I think. Francisco something. Transmission was pretty garbled. I think it was meant for his mom. Go figure. The Pldn network has been fucking up again. I'm pretty sure, like, even with our generator issues, there's no way it should be taking this long for your messages to get to me. I'm kind of starting to think someone else must be getting them. Like, I got this, Francisco guys, and sometimes I hear, like, fragments of other transmissions, too. Not full messages, like a few words here and there, really staticy. Or, like, a segment of binary Morse, stuff like that. Wonder if anyone is hearing mine. Hey, yo, random strangers. If you're out there listening to this, do me a solid. Go ahead and alert the preservation that there's a mobile engine pilot cadet on Centaur nine eight six Gloria who's breaking his Agnes Day suppression order. He's standing on that rock at the edge of the system and mooning the shit out of them, both cheeks and hole, and the only way to get him to stop is to pick him the fuck up. You remember when I asked you why you enlisted? You said it was because your family was all Preservation military, your mom, both your brothers, mostly infantry and Navy, but you wanted to pilot engines, do something different. Did I ever tell you why I joined up? Because they basically gave us two options. The Agnes Day engine pilots get reintegrated as a civilian with a partial brain wipe, or take the gag order and pick a branch of the military. And it pisses me off, because I did two and a half years of active duty on the Agnes Day. All told, I fought six fallen engines, not including the one that ate me. The only people who knew more about those things than I did were High Command and the R and D people. And they didn't get gag ordered, they got paid off. I don't blame my squadmates for opting out, okay, we saw some fucked up shit out there, and some of them were coming up on decommission age anyway, but I was already missing two years of memories. Wasn't really looking to lose more. And I don't know, dude, being a mobile engine pilot is the only thing I'm good at. Like, yeah, sure, I can work the crane. I could I could probably work the crane in my sleep. It's just brain smoothingly boring. And Benny's nice, don't get me wrong, he's a great dude, but it almost doesn't feel real with him because we both know it's. Just until I just while I'm here so sorry. It's been so long, by the way. There was just nothing to report. Not gonna lie, man, I'm kind of starting to chafe out here. You know, every day I've been watching Neptune from the crane and just seeing it get smaller and smaller. It's like a little dot in the black now. Size of my pinky fingernail. Big driller rig passed through last week heading out to mine the extra solar asteroids. No spare phase coil. I'm not looking to get old on this damn rock. Fuck. Sorry. I finally ran out of Ttabs and I'm in a bummer mood. I always pack more than I need in case of, like, you know, minor transporter problems. But I was packing for ten days on Miami Beta. Not like this. Been wearing the same two flight suits all the time, too, because even in the dome, it is not shorts weather here. Don't get it twisted. I'm proud of my leg hair. I grew it myself and everything. But we've only got the generator power for a crisp 46 degrees Fahrenheit, and it's really cramping my style. Point is, I've been rationing my Ttabs, trying to make them stretch, but I took the last one this morning, and I have no fucking idea when I'm going to get more dude. Somebody better pick me up before my periods come back or I'm going to be so fucking pissed. Miss you guys. Sir, would it be nice to hear your voice right now? Hell, I'd even be happy to hear Pietro Balto's voice right now. And I hate that poncey ass, pinched nose, stupid hair having motherfucker. Take care, Lex.

Unspeakable Distance is an actual play. Podcast of Communication Delay by Audio Quinn a link to the game's itch IO page and credits for our players are available in the show. Notes linked to this episode. This podcast has been a production of the Library of Cursed Knowledge podcast network.