Captain’s Log: 3172013 11:15:33 ST: The worst day since we came to ground. I awoke early – about 5 AM. Unfortunately, as a way of putting off the decision to shut down the cyber organism Recka Wuyts, I indulged in too much crew libation the previous night, and woke up with a puling stomach and the nastiest hangover I’ve had in many years. There was no food, so I ordered the entire crew to cross the Wahwitti Hills in search of supplies. It would have been better to wait, but we were all calling for the death of the other to occur sometime during the day, and my announcement to put Recka down would have thrown huge attitudes on every man. It seemed better to cross the hills with empty bellies than give the order and see what would develop.
As it was, when we returned Recka was ranting at some broken glass shards and other debris strewn about in the field. We were unable to get his attention away from this endeavor. I tried to calm him to no avail and this finally convinced me to give the order.
It’s sad, the cyber organism Recka Wuyts continued to degrade falling into data dementia. Sad we are unable to stabilize it. We are unfamiliar with the technology used to implant the cybernetics in whatever biomass this is; although from Earth, it is not human.
I made attempts to communicate with him, explaining, he needed to point out what is fictitious to our people. “We have no idea what you are talking about.” I said. ” Or keep it to yourself. These stories about you being a newspaper man and all that stuff; we need to know the factual stuff if we are going to find a place for you here with us. We need to know the truth.” And at times he seemed to understand then I believed he would open up and tell me what was wrong or what we could do to help him, but his energy levels would drop he would become erratic and begin another tear about something completely unrelated.
I decided to put the device back into the hibernative state we found it in and sell it or trade it to trader-merchants bound for the outer colonies. We had for a time enjoyed his stories and the crew grew found of him. It. On the satellite it was of little concern, but survival here on the surface requires a greater degree of ability than just telling stories.
Security Officer Oxxe Ilde, programmed Recka’s charger to reverse the charge and instruct the cybernetic drives to hibernate. This induced a death like sleep. I sat with him/it as the event happened and recalled that it was my face he saw first when we woke him after how many eons of sleep and now it would be my face he would see as we shut him down.
“To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream;”
Goodbye and Good Luck, Mr. Recka.
Captain Qoula Kragona.
Recka was still pacing about in the field after the crew had returned, with a little persistent coaxing, taking him by the arm and guiding him, the captain collected the cyborg, sat near his charging unit and instructed, “Charge yourself up, Recka. Sit with me. Tell me one of your newspaper stories.” Recka, disturbed and confused, sat next to Captain Kragona connected to his charging unit then watched the captain’s face grow brighter and brighter.
He was barely conscious, utterly helpless and could feel himself slipping away, he was toppling over the cliff of reality, dropping into the soft mist of sleep heading for the eternal ocean of dreams. Until re-booted, his vampire mind would dream while his cybernetic mind was dead. Recka would dream of the best days of his life, when he was the editor of a newspaper, living in Crossroads, Romania, on the shores of The Black Sea at the dawn of the Industrial Age, 1897.