Emergency Log

CONTINGENCY.exe activated...
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FILE CORRUPTED. ATTEMPT RECONSTRUCTION? Y/N
RECONSTRUCTION ATTEMPTED.......
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RECONSTRUCTION PARTIALLY SUCCESSFUL. DISPLAYING RESULTS:


-Author: Ri#as Ry@#s
-Rank: CORRUPTED
-Corporation: CORRUPTED
-Date: 114.##.##

This will be the final log of Rinas Rylos. If you're reading this, either I've delved into the vastness of space to eke out a living as one of those flying space bastards, or the Gallentean government got me. Or something else, I dunno-This is only set to appear on my tablet if I haven't mind a post in over two years, so probably something has happened to me. Granted, I might've just stopped writing, but I suppose that's the result no matter what's happened to me.

I hope the family is doing well, along with Kaz and all the rest of my friends. It's weird to think that I even have any, given that when I started this whole journal business I was more bitter than an Amarrean pilot that was told he can't get paid in slaves. I'm sure there's still the usual space wars out there; Assholes in tons of metal and electronics and who know what else pounding the shit out of each other with weapons that could decimate a planet. Folks die, others get paid, life goes on usual...It's so weird to think of an economy built off of it, and yet...I profited from it. I lived off it. Hell, I thrived on it compared to some other people, and what's more I also enjoyed it.

I can't brush that off, no matter how much I want to. I know I'm gonna have to live (keep living? Assuming I'm still alive out there) with all this. Even if I'm not talking with Doc or my family or anyone else anymore...you can't survive alone. Sometimes when I think back to how robotic I was when I first got turned into...what I am, it scares me. I was basically a biological drone in some aspects, driven mostly out of spite and a desire to live. I guess...that hasn't actually changed much actually. It hasn't changed much, but I've got reasons to be more than just spiteful and murderous all the time. Even if they're all gone now, I've still got their memories-our memories. Memories of thrilling moments in battle, of tender moments with everyone...

Sorry if it seems like I'm just rambling, but it's not like I know what to write in the event of my disappearance/death, y'know? It's kinda conceited of me to admit, but it's hard to imagine death as a reality when I've been shot, stabbed, and run over enough times to put a batallion in the ground. But assuming the program works as intended, then I'm not around to really explain all this, so...I hope whoever reads this has a happy life. I hope they've learned something from the shit I wrote down, even if it's just to enjoy life a bit more. I hope they've learned that even if they don't think so, there's people out there who care about them and love them. I hope they've maybe enjoyed all my stories, and perhaps might take a shot at expressing themselves somehow.

I don't hope that this wasn't all for nothing, because I know it wasn't. It got me out of my funk, and let me look back on some of the most amazing battles anyone will ever have. This is, was, whatever-it's my validation of my existence, and whether this is eventually just thrown in a trash can somewhere or gets posted on the net and stays up until the heat death of the universe, I'm just happy to have made it. And if I managed to uplift some other folks at the same time, well...all the better. Because whether you're another former mercenary, or one of those flying space bastards, or just another person trying to make their way through New Eden, you're having just as much of adventure as I am. Might not seem like it from your perspective, I'm sure, but everything looks more glamorous from someone else's view, y'know?

I suppose I should probably wrap this up. I've got a battle up in a few minutes, and then it's off to go get drunk with Kaz again. To whomever is reading this: Thank you for your time and patience, and I hope your own adventures continue. I'll see you starside.

-End L*g