Android Superstation is a rock band from Orange County, California. It was formed in 2017 by partners in crime Marc and Heather, and made complete by Danny and James. Together, the group creates original music with a myriad of influences, from pop to prog to ambient industrial.
This band creates music that allows people to feel something. We live in an increasingly isolating and dehumanized world, but music is a great vector to remind people of their own humanity and to bring them together.
Beyond that, Android Superstation has created a universe that uses comics, short stories, and visual art to explore the depths of the human condition - good, bad, and otherwise.
Android Superstation is a rock band from Orange County, California. It was formed in 2017 by partners in crime Marc and Heather, and made complete by Danny and James. Together, the group creates original music with a myriad of influences, from pop to prog to ambient industrial.
This band creates music that allows people to feel something. We live in an increasingly isolating and dehumanized world, but music is a great vector to remind people of their own humanity and to bring them together.
Beyond that, Android Superstation has created a universe that uses comics, short stories, and visual art to explore the depths of the human condition - good, bad, and otherwise.
the universe
It is an age-old human tradition to keep a log of significant thoughts and experiences. A diary, I believe it was once called. This is my attempt at doing the same. I record here not my own experiences, however, but those I have come across. Lost memories, forgotten lives, the last remnants of a society that may no longer exist. I cannot speak to their importance. Perhaps these stories are insignificant, a single speck of light in the night sky. Then again, even the smallest glimmer can be a beacon to the right person.
I do not know what happened here. There are only fragments. This log, this diary, will contain anything I can find – images, documents, stories. Perhaps, pieced together, they will create a mosaic of what was and what may be.
- Unit 19010705
this side of nowhere
The companion story to our 2020 album. Read the comic here.
Story by Marc. Edited by Heather. Artwork by Deepesh Bhagchandani.
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0022266
An antenna array buzzes with electricity and gives off a mild glow around its summit as dusk lays its shadows across the land. Its gentle hum is matched by the crickets, the only indicator that the otherwise barren landscape is not completely dead. The tall grass that stretches from miles is wilted and dry. The mountains in the distance are shrouded with smog. There is not a single star in the sky. A few paces away from the antenna array is a small, decrepit house with a dim light shining through the tattered curtains. Inside, a boy of perhaps eleven years daydreams as he doodles pictures on scraps of paper. His fantasies seemed to center around a single character, an astronaut. In the rest of the house there is mostly darkness, grime, and sparsely furnished rooms. The child sits alone. It is clear that he has been alone for a number of days. He lies on the floor in the middle of the room, scribbling endlessly. Even though his world is empty, in his mind, the walls of his room disappear as he has lost in his fantasies. He dreams of the Great War heroes of the past and imagines what his own father may have been like. Suddenly, a cold draft shakes him. He sits up, scanning the room. His eyes settle on a dusty photograph hanging on the wall by the door. It shows a man in a space pilot uniform holding his helmet under his arms, and a young woman – the boy's mother. As his eyes drift over to her gaunt figure, the boy's expression turns cold. He glances at the doorway, seeing nothing but blackness, and feels utterly alone. Abandoned and resentful, he attempts to return to his fantasies but finds the weight of his reality holding him back. He sighs, setting the pencil down and picking up a stuffed animal, a tattered harp seal, worn and well loved. As he holds the seal, tears of loneliness well up in his eyes and he throws it at the picture on the wall. With a thud and a clank, the toy bounces off the picture, knocking it off the wall. The boy runs over to retrieve it. Wiping some dust off his father's image, the boy buries his head in his arms, overwhelmed.
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0002267
Time goes by. Days turned to nights and weeks into months and months into years. The daydreamer dreams on, living in his fantasies. In the real world, nothing much changes either. For years, he spends his days alone, dreaming. His mother would appear briefly before running off to somewhere the boy never quite knew, and he would find himself alone again, sometimes for days, sometimes weeks at a time. One morning, he walks into the kitchen to find his mother wearily pouring a cup of coffee, her purse still on her shoulder, clearly having just returned from work. “Mother,” he says in greeting, without emotion. She glances up with a tired smile, but says nothing. “Three weeks this time,” he states coolly, leaning against the kitchen wall. “What exactly do you do again?” Her expression a mixture of hurt and nervousness, she opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by the sound of a car door. Mother and son freeze – a visitor to their lonely shack in the middle of nowhere? She peeks out the window, studying the shadowy, well-dressed figure that was now approaching the house. “Koa,” she whispers, “go to your room.” “But-” “Now.” Irate, Koa returns to his dingy little room, sitting with frustration on the ground. His mind races. Glancing again at the photo of his parents, Koa slips into his fantasy world, imagining that his father had returned at last. He was a glorious hero, dressed in his fancy officer’s uniform. Any minute, he would walk into the room and sweep Koa up in a warm embrace, beaming with pride at his son. Koa smiles, a feeling of peace welling up in him for the first time in his life. Suddenly, the front door slammed shut, fracturing Koa’s daydream and bringing him back into the dark, cold, empty room. His mother's approaching footsteps resonate throughout the shack incredibly loud. Koa hears her coming, stiffening as she embraces him for the first time in years. His disappointment overwhelms him. His mother whispers excitedly into Koa's ear, but he understands nothing, still clinging to the last remnants of his fantasies. After a long embrace, she retreats. With a small suitcase, Clara Gehlen leaves the house, never to return. As time passes, Koa drifts. He stops sleeping, barely eats, doesn't even read the letters that occasionally reach the house. They form a small pile near the door, His mother's handwriting barely visible in the dim light. He lives mainly in his dream world, walking in and out of hallucinations so fluidly he can no longer tell the difference between dream and reality. One day, after several months of stifling loneliness, Koa can't take it anymore. He spends hours pacing in his darkened room, then stops in front of the photograph of his parents. He still sees the spot where the dust was wiped away all those years ago, the only place visible now through the thick layers of grime. He takes the photograph off the wall and removes it from the wooden frame. In a fit of passion, Koa suddenly tears the photograph in half, dropping the frame on the floor. As the frame cracks and the glass shatters, Koa's mind descends into a pit of desperate rage. In his outburst, he grabs a kerosene lamp and throws it at the wall. The fireball engulfs the wall in a bright yellow burst of dazzling light and smoke. As the kerosene drips down the wall and onto the floor, the beauty of the violence catches coat off guard. The destruction he sees before him stuns him, and for a moment he stands motionless as he watches the flames dance over the memories now burning before him. A finger of flames creeps toward him and singes the torn photograph of his parents. Suddenly realizing his peril, Koa grabs half of the photograph – the half with his father – and runs out of the house, which is now completely engulfed in flames. As he stands before the funeral pyre of his past, Cola suddenly feels alive. He watches for a long time, relishing the beauty of the dancing flames. He smiles – a dangerous, maniacal smile. Eventually, he walks in the direction of the nearest town, ready to start anew.
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0002227
Koa struggles. He spends months on the streets of a nearby town, cold, hungry and utterly alone. The air, much more toxic here than in the countryside where he was raised, burns his lungs and clouds his thoughts, and his mental health deteriorates as much as his physical health. He eventually finds refuge in a dilapidated orphanage, but his luck doesn't improve. The other boys bully him relentlessly, and he eventually learns to fight back. He comes to resemble a stray dog, lean, scrappy and dangerous. Koa's anger turns outward, and he fights everyone he believes to have crossed him. Soon he is kicked out of the orphanage and is left back on the street. One gloomy, sunless day, Koa looks up and spots a man walking on the other side of the street. The man is walking at a brisk pace and wearing a very familiar uniform. Koa's eyes widen and he pulls the crumpled old photograph of his father out of his pocket. It's the same uniform. Koa leaps up and runs after the man, hope gleaming in his eyes. But before Koa reaches him, the man meets up with a woman and a young girl – his family. He gently picks up his daughter and walks away with his wife, a casual day out. Koa stops in his tracks, watching, crestfallen. As the rain starts to fall, he flies into a rage, kicking a trash can and punching a nearby wooden fence. Then he pauses. On the fence is a recruitment poster for the Raine ASDC Space Admiralty Officer Academy. Koa looks once more at the crumpled picture in his hands. “So, he says quietly, “you could have come home.” He looks again at the uniformed father down the street. “You could have been a father and kept your job and kept Mom from running away, but no.” In another flash of anger, Koa crumples the photograph and throws it to the ground. “You're just another failure.” Koa looks again at the poster on the fence, his expression changing from anger to determination. “Well, you know what? I can be better than you ever were. A better pilot, a better man. And everyone will remember that the hero was the one who came after you.” Newly determined, Koa hoists his worn backpack and walks in the opposite direction of the man in uniform. In the background, that same man watches closely. He picks up the photo that Koa dropped, studying it, then looking back at Koa. His eyes narrow. Koa walks for days until he reaches Raine Academy, which is in a large city, sleek and metropolitan. Haggard and poor, with makeshift bionics to counteract the toxic air, Koa is sorely out of place amongst the well-dressed citizens with their built-in cybernetic filtration systems. But he is determined. When he arrives at the Academy, the recruiting officer gives him a mildly disgusted look. “Sorry boy, but we don't do charity here.” “I'm here to sign up for the Academy.” The officer laughs harshly. “You? Who do you think you are?” “My name's Koa.” “Do yourself a favor, Koa: leave, before I have you arrested for delinquency.” The officer starts to walk away, but Koa grabs his arm impudently. “I am Koa Gehlen and I will study here.” The officer raises his eyebrows, wrenching his arm out of Koa's grasp. “Gehlen, eh? All right, you've got the guts for it, Gehlen, I'll give you that. But you'll need to learn to behave yourself.” Koa’s expression changes from angry to hopeful, and he stands up straight with a hint of boyish enthusiasm. The officer hands him a few forms and a pen. “Here, fill these out.” Koa triumphantly grabs the forms and rushes away to fill them out. The officer watches him leave, then presses a button on his bionic headpiece. “Admiral Malchek,” he says quietly. “He's here.”
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0002238
Life is beautiful. Finally, everything is going well for Koa. He stops daydreaming. the rush he gets off his upward rise – academically, physically and emotionally – have made it unnecessary. His old escape that he held so dear as a child was now replaced by reality, a reality more colorful and wonderful than anything his imagination could muster. He devotes himself to his studies, spending day and night learning the art of space flight. And he excels. He answers questions in class, aces flight tests, receives medals for his academic prowess. A natural talent, he rises in the ranks, passing his classes with flying colors and gaining a circle of friends. He even meets a girl, Adecyn – gorgeous, intelligent, cunning. As they get to know each other, a relationship blossoms and for the first time, the lonely Koa has someone to confide in. Everything seems perfect. And yet he's not happy. Koa knows he has everything he could ever want. He’s successful, popular, loved. He's defied all expectations and is well on his way to achieving his goal of surpassing his. But he sees this all through a grey lens. He can’t connect. He can't even smile. His heart is torn. He wants to succeed, but he wants to run away. He wants to hold Adecyn, but when he looks at her, he sees his poor excuse for a mother. He wants to wear his uniform proudly, displaying the medals he's earned in his time at the Academy, but when he puts it on, it doesn't seem to fit. When he graduates from the Academy, he is awarded the highest honors of his class and given the immediate ranking of Second Lieutenant. But even as the metal is pinned to his uniform, Koa is numb. Later that evening, he sits at the base of a mutated tree with Adecyn, his arm around her. It's picture perfect: the beautiful girl, the landscaped campus, more or less alive and so different from the barren wasteland he grew up in. But Koa doesn't smile. “Adecyn,” he says quietly, “are you happy?” She smiles brilliantly. “Of course.” “What's it like?” Her smile fades slightly. Seeing the hurt in her expression, Koa continues, “you're wonderful. Everything's wonderful, but it's not enough.” Adecyn studies him, tilting her head. “Is this about your father again? Koa, he doesn't matter. None of it does. It's in the past. All that matters is the present and the future.” She pulls him into a hug. “You have the world ahead of you.” Koa returns the embrace, holding Adecyn close, but his expression doesn't change. His world is still shadowy. The spaceman he used to imagine as a child creeps into his mind's eye. But the vision is corrupted somehow. It seems foreboding, sick, distorted. He shakes his head and it disappears, but his heart retains some of the darkness left over from his dreams.
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0001228
In a pristine conference room, a group of uniformed men sit around a long table, engaged in a formal meeting that had clearly taken several hours. They are clean and well-dressed and have the most expensive bionics, much more effective than the junk available to Koa and the lower echelons of society. Among the men is the officer Koa had encountered in town, a man by the name of Admiral Malchek. “We need to reassert our control over Anachron by force,” a captain states gruffly, leaning forward intently. “Those intellectuals,” he sneers, “think they're better than us. I'll not have them turn against us and lose the planet's most valuable asset to some peace-loving, non-bionic freaks!” Another man pipes up. “Force? Ludicrous. We only have one transport vessel in good enough condition to shuttle people in and out of the atmosphere, and we don't even have the funds to replace that. How do you expect-” “There’s another way.” Everyone turns to look over at Malchek with surprise. He places a scrap of paper down on the table – the photo of Koa's father. “You all recognize this man. His son just graduated from Raine Academy. He's bright, a natural. But, more importantly...” One corner of his mouth twitches into a dark smile. “He's just like his father. If anyone can be our pawn, it's him.” Three years later, Koa sits at a table in a small but cozy kitchen, sifting through the mail. A very pregnant Adecyn hovers nearby, preparing a pot of soup. She looks down at the sad looking concoction, then glances at the cupboards, which are nearly empty. “You know, the shop down the street is looking for a cashier,” she says casually, trying to hide her frustration at the sheer lack of food. “That's android work,” Koa replies, not looking up. Adecyn sighs. “So? It would put food on the table. If ASDC hasn’t given you an assignment by now, Koa, they're not going to, and I can't work in this condition. Besides,” she continues, her voice softening. “It's better if you don’t have to leave. I need you here with me.” Koa doesn't reply. He is staring at an important looking letter, the official Allied Space Defense Command emblem clearly visible on the envelope. Frowning slightly, he opens it. “Dear Second Lieutenant Gehlen, We are pleased to confirm that you are one of three outstanding candidates from Raine ASDC Space Admiralty Officer Academy who have been selected to participate in the ASDC's next mission. This assignment will take place on Anachron Station. Your deployment will occur immediately. Please report to the ASDC Deployment Center within 24 hours to complete necessary payroll and personnel forms. Congratulations on your upcoming assignment. Admiral Seymond Malchek” Koa stares at the letter, stunned, as its contents register in his mind. This is it, he thinks. He envisions the picture of his father that he lost all those years ago, replacing the faded image with a fresh vision of himself in the space uniform. Glorious, heroic, far more impressive than his father ever was. He plunges into his dream world, envisioning the glorious adventures he could have. He fights off the enemies, pilots a flagship, gives a rousing speech to hundreds of military personnel, his uniform gleaming with several prominent metals. Koa’s face breaks into a wide, almost maniacal smile, and he gripped the letter tightly, crumpling it slightly in its excitement. I can finally be the person I’m meant to be. “What's that smile all about?” Adecyn's voice shatters his thoughts, and he looks up quickly, his smile disappearing. She has a curious expression, tilting her head as she sets the soup down in front of him. “I…” Koa hesitates. “Nothing. Just remembered something funny from school. He folds the letter and casually pockets it. “Remember that time Hanle hacked that officer’s bionics so he could only speak Russian?” Adecyn grins, taking a seat across from him. “Yeah, he was angrier than most of the crazy Soviets I see on the daily announcements. Guess that high-end tech isn't as good as they say.” She continues reminiscing, but Koa loses interest and stops registering her words. His expression turns numb as the shadows of his dream world creep back into his mind. Later that night, Koa lies awake in bed, his grim expression distorted in the light filtering in from the dirty little window. His dream world emerges once again. He sees himself as a hero, standing triumphantly in uniform on some foreign planet and carrying a regal banner. But suddenly the vision fades, leaving nothing but the darkness of the room. Koa looks over at his sleeping wife, troubled. Behind her, the open closet door comes into focus. His uniform is barely visible in the darkness. It seems to call to him. A thick fog blankets the night. Koa walks down the middle of the empty street in his dusty old uniform, which hangs a little looser on him than it did when he was at the Academy. The dark clouds glow slightly with the foreboding reddish orange, the color of dying embers. He disappears into the mist.
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0012238
Adecyn wakes alone. She sits up in bed, groggy and a little frazzled. Koa's absence doesn't seem to trouble her. It's not the first time he's gone out early. She rises and walks out of the room, not noticing the conspicuous open spot in the closet. She takes a seat at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of strong coffee, shoving the pile of yesterday's mail off to the side. Outside, clouds gather in the crimson sky, poisoning the sunrise. Adecyn leans over the table, switching on the small television. “Today’s the day, folks!” The announcer’s synthesized voice brims with programmed enthusiasm, a throwback to the days of human, rather than android, reporting. “The Allied Space Defense Command is sending three of its most promising young recruits to Anachron Station, our fine government's most important and mysterious project to date. These young men will be joining the hundreds of top-tier pilots, engineers and scientists working on the project, which our great leaders promise will transform the nation. What does that mean? Well, we'll have to wait and see. Let's take a look at our newest national heroes. First, we have Galin Quintain, top in his class in the medical division...” Suddenly, thunder cracks. Adecyn turns to watch as the sky lights up, highlighting the reddish gray clouds. She’d always liked the rain. When she returns her focus to the TV, it has already switched to the live footage of the recruits’ imminent departure, showing a stylish transport rocket with a gangway. A huge crowd has gathered to watch. A cheer rises up as the three young men walk out on to the platform, looking sharp in their brand-new uniforms and top-of-the-line bionics. The camera zooms in, focusing on the third recruit. Adecyn's eyes widen, and the coffee mug drops. It's Koa. She looks down and sees for the first time the opened ASDC letter, now splattered with coffee. Fear and anger flash across her face and she bolts out the door, not even bothering to grab her protective clothing. She runs and runs past the derelict buildings of the poor district toward the extravagance of the city center. But she's too late. Just as the rocket comes into her line of vision, its engines start, flames and smoke billowing beneath it. It begins to rise into the heavens. She screeches to a halt, falling to her knees, tears of hatred and heartbreak streaming down her cheeks. A toxic rain starts to fall from the crimson sky, and she covers her face with a raised arm, watching as she loses the only thing she really had.
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0012249
The night before his departure, Koa walks up to the deployment center in the uniform he wore when he graduated, which hangs looser on him than it did in his Academy days. He glances at the propaganda poster near the door. It shows a well-groomed cadet in the same uniform. Koa’s messy hair, tired eyes, and ill-fitting outfit look even worse in comparison. Bracing himself, he walks inside. After checking in, Koa waits in what looks like a combination of hospital room and dressing room. A surgeon bot enters, accompanied by a human nurse. Koa looks at her apprehensively as she sets scissors, surgical tools, and a set of high-end bionics on the counter. “Second Lieutenant Gehlen,” she says, as the surgeon-bot prepares for the operation, “welcome to the other side.” Later, Koa emerges, transformed. His hair is cut and groomed. His uniform is brand new, smart, perfectly fitted. His his once-rugged face is now smooth and clean, and fitted with sleek bionic inserts. Koa Gehlen is now indistinguishable from his dream self, the dashing space hero he has always wanted to be. He holds his helmet under his arm, waving to the crowd below with the other hand. He relishes the hero's reception, forgetting for a while everything he gave up to get it. He is victorious at last. The transport ship pulls up to Anachron Station after a seemingly endless journey, gliding slowly into its loading dock. The station resembles the pictures but looks run down and dingy, as though it hasn't been maintained in several years. Koa emerges from the transport, a look of boyish excitement on his face. The loading deck seems oddly empty. Only a few ships are docked, and none seem to be in use. Only a few people can be seen. Strangely, they have no bionics. As Koa lines up behind the other lieutenants at a reception desk, he looks around, noticing his dilapidated surroundings. His expression fades somewhat. The receptionist glances up at him when he approaches, a cool glint in her eye. “Great, more ASDC puppets,” she sneers. “Just what we need. Where’s your ID, Mr. Roboto?” “Excuse me?” “ID. Identification. Like, a name? Or have you ‘upgraded’ to serial numbers by now?” Taken aback, Koa wordlessly hands her his identification card. A hero's welcome indeed. When he arrives at his quarters, he finds them dark, cramped, and utterly unimpressive, more similar to a jail cell than an officer’s residence. The walls are bare except for a camera in the upper corner. On his uncomfortable-looking cot is an electronic tablet, which he picks up. The screen flashes on and scans his face. > KOA GEHLEN > ASSIGNMENT: MAINTENANCE > REPORT TO JANITORIAL OFFICE IMMEDIATELY “What?” Koa frowns. Maintenance? That can’t be right. “Uh, computer,” he states, not sure whether to address it like an android or a less-sentient being. “Incorrect assignment. Reassess.” > SCANNING… > KOA GEHLEN > ASSIGNMENT: MAINENANCE > INSUBORDINATION DETECTED [CODE 2094A: QUESTIONING ORDERS] > SHIFT EXTENDED 1 HOUR > REPORT TO JANITORIAL OFFICE IMMEDIATELY A sudden rage boils up inside him. He throws the tablet at the wall, breaking it, and storms out of the room, making a beeline to the Admiral's office. Knocking sharply on the door, he barges in. Unlike the rest of the ship, the room is sleek and clean. The man at the desk looks up. His face is angular and gruff, and his eyes are cold and untrusting. He surveys Koa with a cool gaze. “What the hell is this?” Koa shouts, gesturing back toward his quarters. “You give me a promotion and then send me to a garbage heap full of rude, non-bionic freaks, and tell me that my ‘secret assignment’ is taking out the trash? I’m the best pilot you have, and I’m not going to-” “Gehlen!” The man cuts him off sharply. “That kind of insubordination might have gotten you into the Academy, but it will not be tolerated here. On this ship, you will address me with proper decorum.” He rises, walking over to stand face-to-face with Koa. “Your orders are correct, and you'll follow them without complaint.” “But Sir-” “Believe me, Gehlen: the last thing you want to do is your usefulness to me.” Koa opens his mouth to argue, but before he can speak, a light on his bionics flashes red and an intense pain suddenly flashes through his body. Koa falls to his knees with a wretched yell and looks up in horror. The Admiral looks down at him, suddenly terrifying in his coldness. “Understood?”
LOG ENTRY 1:01:0022289
Koa spends his days performing menial tasks – cleaning hard to reach areas, serving food in the mess halls. Android work. The human crew ignores him and the other newcomers, side-eying their bionics with distrust. Koa grows increasingly depressed, increasingly distant. His dream world starts to creep back. He slips into fantasies as he did as a child, but now, if he spends too long in a dream, his bionics start to flash red and he snaps back in to the dullness of reality. He can only escape their torture if he doesn't think at all. And so he doesn't. He sleeps, eats, works on the machines, cleans, and then repeats the pattern. Time becomes meaningless. There is no yesterday, no tomorrow. There is only now. Here. Colors turn gray. His memory seems to be failing him. He can’t recall his wife’s face. What was her name, again? Things make no sense anymore. He wakes up to find his meager belongings moved around in the night. Who moved them? Why? He can't remember. He can't think straight. Who is that in the mirror? What’s this – blackness – a new color? Or was it a new feeling? Who knows anymore? One moment, he's working on a machine. And then blackness, and then it's the next day, or the next week. It feels like something happens when he blacks out, but he never knows what. Just blackness, until he snaps back into existence. One night he breaks into his dreams, and, for some reason, the bionics don’t immediately pull him out. He sees a figure in a space uniform – his uniform – its face obscured by the dark helmet. The sky is a poisonous orange, and the figure carries an unconscious Adecyn toward the edge of a cliff. She wakes up and screams, struggling to get out of its arms. It holds her high above its head, then throws her, sending her tumbling into the abyss. Then it turns to face Koa, taking off the helmet. Underneath it is…Koa. Or some semblance of him. Its eyes are hollow, its face expressionless, like a machine. Koa screams, his vision flashing red with anger and pain. Koa comes to, leaving his dream world behind. Blood streams down his face, blurring his vision. In his hands is part of his bionic interface, which he has ripped out during his dream. He sits for a moment, stunned. Confusion compounds his frustration. He has known anger before, but this is different. This is pathological. It burns so good. It's beautiful in its grotesqueness. Pain makes Koa feel, something he hasn't been able to do in this space prison. He looks up at the shelf across from his cot, where his helmet sits. Trembling, Koa stands, his eyes wild. He grasps the helmet with his bloodstained hands, staring at it face to face, then slowly, deliberately puts it on. He is lost.
LOG ENTRY 1:01:000129
The bloodstained spaceman walks into the hallway, nightmarish in the flickering artificial lights. Koa is enjoying this. He feels his rage steering him. He has become anger. He is breaking apart. He has become the blackness. He has buried the spaceman for too long. Time to let it free. Punch the lights out. That was fun. Smashed the oxygen regulator. Ooh, that was something. Hey look, a human. Twist his arm till it pops out. Ohh, that was more of a snap! The spaceman rampages through the station. People scream and run. It sends objects flying, breaking everything in its path, the transport ship. The spaceman sees it, veers toward it. Let's be a pilot for once. Let's go for a ride. To hell with all this. Koa straps himself into the cockpit, rips the spacecraft from its moorings, and engages the rear thrusters. With a jolt, he's off, smashing through the hanger into the space beyond. Chatter on the communicator. Fuck them. Let them rot. Where to now?
LOG ENTRY 1:01:00012226
White noise over the communicator. It fades to nothing. The void of the airwaves is filled with silence now. In the cockpit, only instrument panels give off a faint glow. Outside a vast expense. Emptiness. Koa is alone. At least he isn't lonely anymore. The blackness of his dream world and the real world are now one and the same. He no longer reflects. He no longer thinks of his past, his wife, his child. None of that has meaning here. Everything is the present moment, the end and the beginning. Into the darkness flies a man. He lives on a precipice between all that has been and all that will be. He is adrift in an unforgiving void. He has no destination anymore. He is not at peace, nor is he at war. He is neither sad nor happy. He just is. Flying endlessly through space and time, Koa lets go. His burdens become light. Weightlessness has its advantages.