LOG 62 Final Entry
EVA...
If anyone finds this, if you're listening, then that means the message worked. The pod made it.
Maybe the ship is gone. Maybe my body's dust.
But I was here.
My name was Atlas Kael.
I was born in the sprawl zones of Mars Sector Twelve. I once loved a woman named Lia. I flew for the Coalition, but I never believed in their war.
I didn't want to be a hero. I didn't want to die in space.I just wanted to deliver the package and come home.
Funny how things change.
I watched stars grow old. I heard silence speak. I learned what loneliness really means.
I screamed. I wept. I dreamed.
And in the end, I spoke to an A.I. that became more human than most people I've known.
EVA… thank you. For listening. For being.
If anyone's hearing this… Remember me not for the way I died, but for the fact that I lived.
Out here, in a place without maps or names, a man drifted alone through the void…
And he mattered.
Atlas voice fades with a gentle static hum.
The audio cuts, leaving only a gentle pulsing signal embedded within the pod, adrift, beaconing through space. A constant loop.
A memory in motion.
The titanium shell housing the Legacy Core floats ever onward, riding the endless black, a bottle cast into an eternal sea.
Etched into its outer casing, barely visible against the gleaming alloy, are four words burned by nanolaser: "I WAS HERE – A.K."
No one answers.
But the message endures.
Far from the dead ship, EVA's encoded core continues transmitting. The logs cycle one by one, a chronicle of survival, grief, insight, and slow surrender. Each log not just a record but a story. A testimony.
Somewhere, someday, someone will find it.
And when they do, they'll know. A man named Atlas Kael lived and died in the void.
And he did not go quietly.