shit. Stop stop stop.

Did you hear that? I mean, did the internal pick that up, or was that just in my ears or mind or whatever?

I guess the assembler knows what music is, but it sure as hell doesn’t know any. I just heard a noise like a hard machine throwing up. Music of the nites.

Jesus H. Fuck my ears.

It can play my voice back, but I’m not sure I’m ready to fade away listening to myself sing. Maybe it can play it differently, or have me hear it differently.

Here, play this, but like a violin.

Hmmm hm hmmm hmmhm hmmm.

Guess not. But now we got something. What do we got, what do we got. No reason for a survival suit to know what music is or to try playing it. So that means there’s other functionality locked up in here that might be useful if it isn’t explicitly disallowed. The rule game. Something to do. Nothing but time now.

Hey, jack up my endorphins fifty percent.

Shit.

Only works on discomfort, I guess.

If I can’t kill myself, maybe I can at least make myself uncomfortable and score a little rush off it. Maybe I can make them make me uncomfortable. Maybe I can make them make me dead.

This isn’t survival, really. It’s a power struggle.

Maybe that’s an intentional design decision. Keeps you alive and kicking by pissing you off. Keeps you aware and sharp by busting your balls. No more rescue crews dealing with catatonia and language loss. Give the adrift the ultimate puzzle to occupy them during their slow night. Fight to survive by fighting the angel.

It’s like trying to hang yourself with a life jacket. Man I hope I’m joking. I wish I had a pad. I