I have lost track of the days in this dark cave system, and I know that I am most assuredly lost. In all the preparations made for the journey to S2215C, including accepting the loss of the life on Earth I once knew, I did not prepare myself for the potential loss of my physical life. I did not plan for my death, but I am now staring into the void of such inevitability.
The flashlight blinked off some time ago, its battery worn out, and the only light source left is on the tip of a pen I found in my pocket. The charm of the cave's cool air has also worn out, and a chill has set into my bones so that I know I will never be warm again. I would welcome the stifling heat and blue light of the giant star in this spiraling galactic neighborhood, but it does not reach me here. I would make a torch, but I have no means to create fire and have seen nothing that will burn.
There's an undeniable scratching in the cave walls just beyond the hum of energy. A crackle hidden within a whisper. It calls my name still, continuously, an endless, looping summons. I must be mad already, as the noise would surely drive me to madness. The penlight is flickering. Once it goes out completely, I will be left alone in the dark void of this place, cut off from my capsule, my command. Cut off from humanity.
I am both afraid to move and full of dread at remaining immobile. From my spot in the center of this vaulted part of the cavern, two paths of apparently identical quality lead (presumably) farther into the darkness. Not long ago, there were four paths. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed the darkness could entirely swallow up parts of the cave.
I cannot be sure whether this is real or whether I exist within a nonsensical, sunless mirage. I would question whether I exist at all, but the pull of the cave's roaring darkness in my blood is unmistakable, like the rush of water—the same water I stumbled upon as I realized the bleakness of my present circumstances. My first sips were long and greedy as the cool water, pleasantly potable, tumbled into my dry, aching stomach. Then, I retched and lost it all. The next sips were more cautious and have renewed my vigor, much to my chagrin.
Were my thirst not catastrophic and survival instincts not heightened, I may have resolved to shriveling up in dehydration rather than drinking, but I was weak. I shall need to start the process of dying all over again, a most uncomfortable thought. Because regardless of water, I have no food and no way out of this abominable and labyrinthine cave.
I shall never report the presence of water to those awaiting such news on Earth, though I know they are desperate for it. But it is for the better. There is no home for the people of Earth on S2215C. I know that now, and I am thankful to know it alone.
How foolish was I, the lone astronaut who journeyed to S2215C, to have dreamed of building a home? I know now that this cave is both my home and my grave.
I only hope Earth's command does not send another helpless explorer to die in these reaches of Bode's Galaxy, another who may wander into the cavern and find my cold bones in time to realize they, too, shall become a pile of bones swallowed up by the dark.
Signing off,
CB
I love that this felt very claustrophobic. Well done.