Sol, Chapter 5: Inner Sol Archives 2242 C.E. Rand’s Personal Log

My unbearable once, but now disappearing headache makes me think it is time to start anew. I was trying to unload a lectern from a pulpit where the sanctified nothing was held for none of the colonists to see or think about but only transfix their eyes upon and hope. The key was that something in their minds would hear imaginary words which apparently transform into an ethereal substance that holds ideas passed on for generations. It is in reality meaningless and out of context from their everyday dreadful experience. The ideology becomes all the more irrelevant as time keeps on passing, and in the end many of the colonists are killed by reckless machines or just as often kill themselves.

My so called brethren and I have been instructed to destroy the Neo-Christian temples on the dark side of Luna. The rewards that we were supposed to reap have not been just. They ration out treasure like fools. The queer anarchist piece-of-shit squad leader, Turing, betrayed my better experience.

“Fuck this community, I have the ability to strike out on my own, and I’m only one of two who know the piloting codes for the cruiser- so my escape will be easy” I thought.

So I decided to say something about my pride for a second time on this short-lived mission, while out on the surface above one of the rare older temples.

“It is over, I’m done. Turing you wretched filth of a being, I deserve-”

“If you discuss this unnecessary topic one more time you will be stunned and detained. I have no patience for your petty quibbling over material goods.”

At that point I was trembling with anger.

“You know how easy it is to just flip a switch, for me at least, in a figurative sort of way, so that I just snap and unleash my exoskeleton?”

“Well, certain chemicals determine violence, but for you only the weaker ones, yet the variables are complicated and include genetic as well as environmental factors, so you may have strength one day recruit.”

There was ringing in my ears, I couldn’t distinguish his high-pitched voice from it. I needed to end the unbearable sound.

“I will kill you and not think anything of it,” I said.

He thought I was playing, that was his mistake.

“The standard system of thought with you new ones is now to not think anything of anything beside the self.”

If only I could have given him the gift of leaving this existence with such wise words. I couldn’t bear it any longer, just like the scum I thought they were, the other members of the squad wavered their eyes from direct contact with me and yet had the courage to laugh.

I am no counter-revolutionary, yet I had been led to believe otherwise about these Insurgent expeditions, and my ability proves that I deserve better. I had thought the opportunity in marauding Helium 3 farms was abundant in profit, and I was terribly wrong.

I should have caught a ferry to Phobos and signed up with Brazilian pirates, not these fanatical egalitarians. They care nothing for the right to personal improvement and ranking advancement. I had realized from the exchange how underestimated I am, so that it would be fairly possible to sabotage Turing’s next mission and eliminate the entire squad. If I were to accomplish this, I would finally earn my next non-organic transformation. Independence is coveted. Goals must be completed orderly. I will regain my position in The Corp and then some.