Chapter 24
24
From the Journal of Virginia Jones
Day One
I cried when I first saw the Planet. Just a green-blue speck in our viewscreen. So much like Earth, but so different. This planet is new and perfect, fresh; ready for humanity. And we won’t fuck it up this time.
Day Two
The Planet herself is beyond articulation. She’s beautiful. Gorgeous. I’m assuming if anyone reads this, they’re from Earth. But just in case: Earth, humanity’s home planet, is dead. We still live there but by the skin of our teeth. It’s scientifically and biologically improbable that we’ve survived there so far past our expiration date. Hydroponics and genetically modified greenhouse crops, solar energy, over-processed nutrient “food”, and a species-wide stubborn optimism have kept us going.
But our time is almost up.
So here we are, finally knocking at the door of a potential new home. And she’s the most perfect, lovely thing I’ve ever seen. Six others are with me, exploring this miracle planet, to see if she’s viable. To see if she could be humanity’s new home. I have high hopes.
Day Three
Not sure how to describe this… damn . It’s just that my thoughts move faster than this shitty pen. Okay. We went out in groups to “survey the perimeter”, as John put it. He and two others are military, generally pointless but good for organization/efficiency.
For some reason it makes me feel better knowing someone has a gun.
The strangest thing: there are hardly any animals here. We knew it going in, the probes had indicated as much, but… to see it is bizarre. There are some small rabbit-like things, deer-like mammals, and waterfowl, I think I saw, flying in the distance over the river. The wildlife is almost recognizable? Similar to Earth’s, which gives me the creeps.
The zoologist, Andrews, doesn’t seem as perturbed. “Well, it makes sense if the conditions were similar to Earth,” and so on. No, it doesn’t, and she knows it. There are no insects. No apex predators. Just lots of plants and helpless, edible animals. What evolutionary model explains that ?
Oh, get this! I buried the lede. When we went to survey the perimeter, per John’s instruction, wherever we went, the flora sort of… followed. It tracked our movements! Reacted to touch! It was like… God, how do I say this? The plants here behave almost like they can sense us, beyond just touch. Like they’re curious about us.
Sounds insane, I know. But the flora here seems sentient .
Day Three, Night
Writing this down before I fall back asleep, so I don’t forget. I dreamed the flowers and trees and things were coming into my tent. Then I woke up in a thicket, and I couldn’t move. It was terrifying. Claustrophobic. A nightmare. But then I heard this voice, like it was soothing me from the inside out, like the trees and flowers were suddenly talking to me. Caressing me. And I wasn’t scared anymore.
Day Five
We’ve been here for days, and I’m beginning to feel like I’m in a simulation. Every time we run a test, it comes back perfectly in favor of human life. We tested the groundwater, and it was perfect. The air is perfect.
If I was a religious person, I might have truly believed God made this planet just for us.
Until today.
Andrews and I were exploring the forest, looking for who the fuck knows what. Something to write home about beyond, “Wow, this planet is unbelievably ideal in every way.” We came across these trees that were so ethereal, I was really struck by them. So, we hung around and inspected them, bagged some leaf and bark samples. It took us a while. Part of me wanted to just stay there forever, underneath those quiet branches.
We actually sat there for a while in the moss and ended up falling asleep.
When we woke up, it was obvious we’d been asleep for hours. And our feet were covered in growth. Little vines twisted through my bootlaces. Flowers bloomed at my knees. It was so thick we couldn’t move. It took us ages to free ourselves, and we couldn’t use our knives for fear of injuring each other.
Andrews thought it was fascinating, beautiful. She wanted to bring everything back to study. I made her leave it.
I’m still shaking as I write this. I can’t get it out of my head.
What if we hadn’t woken up?
Day Five, Night
Just got back from a midnight walk. I was wound up after that thing with the plants growing over us, figured I needed some fresh air and perspective. Maybe it’s just a harmless mechanism of the native flora and nothing at all to be afraid of.
But I never got a chance to think about that. The voice from the other night came back. It sounds silly, but the voice was velvety , almost. It wrapped around me and held me. I felt safe. It felt like one of those dreams where you immediately trust someone, or love someone, even though they’re a figment of your imagination.
I don’t think this was a figment.
It felt real. And — I know it sounds impossible. But I was out there in the plain, alone. No one else around me. And this voice, this entity or whatever it was, it took my hand. I felt it. It kissed my neck.
And I’ll never forget what it whispered in my ear:
You’re finally home, Virginia Jones .
Day Seven
Everyone’s pissing me off. They’re hovering like little nursemaids. John insisted on taking my temperature, which turned out to be normal. Obviously. I’m not sick. I’m just tired, anxious.
From my perspective, none of my behavior has been erratic in the least.
Day Ten
The entity came to me again. I’ve been waiting for it. For Her . Everywhere I go, I feel Her watching. When I touch the grass, it’s Her I’m touching. When I lie on my back in the moss, under shady trees, she cradles me against her chest.
It’s funny — I haven’t changed my mind about the Planet. It’s that I understand Her now. She’s not just a planet. She’s so much more than that.
Day Thirteen
Andrews and I argued. I don’t even know what about. She said I’m “not present anymore,” which means nothing. I’m right here, aren’t I? Just because I like going on walks alone. Just because I’m not going to her tent as often anymore. I don’t have time for a relationship, let alone one with pointless conflict. Especially not here.
So, I cut things off. It was just a workplace fling anyway.
Day Fourteen
Andrews is gone.
I don’t know how. I don’t understand. She was in the forest. She radioed me. I went to look for her, and… well, she’s gone now.
I can’t get the image out of my head. It happened near this waterfall, where we went together once, alone. It reminded me of this poem that Andrews liked too. Tennyson, maybe. To fall and pause and fall did seem . I don’t remember the name of the poem.
Part of me wonders — is it my fault? I broke up with her, and now…
But She helps me. She comforts me, tells me there’s nothing I could have done. She was there with me when Andrews was taken. Her arms were around me.
And at night, She… it’s crazy to write this. But no one will read it, not for a long time. At night, She comes to me, and we make love. She’s there with me, in my bed. She touches me and caresses me until I come. But I can never quite see Her. She’s like smoke or fog. There, but… not.
Are we fucking? Am I insane?
The saddest part is that I
Day Thirteen, Night
I didn’t finish that last one. John went missing while I was writing. All his stuff is here. Even his boots. If he wandered off, he did it naked.
So now we’re in lockdown. Nobody goes anywhere alone. They handed out guns to everyone, even us scientists, which seems unwise. I won’t fire mine. There’s nothing to shoot but each other.
Day Sixteen
She comes to me every night. She caresses me, touches me, kisses me until I’m molten. She’s the one thing that’s good in this fucked up nightmare. One by one, they’re disappearing. And now I know what it means.
I know where they’re going.
I shouldn’t write this, but someone needs to know.
It’s not safe here. We aren’t safe here. It’s a planet-sized trap, a cattle farm, a breeding ground. It eats us. It eats us. It swallows us whole. Every night she comes to me, I see it happening, and I can’t stop it, because I
It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.
Day Seventeen, Night
Only two of us are left. I don’t know what to say. If anyone from Earth finds this, they’ll know what I did. That I gave myself to Her and let Her feast on them. I didn’t warn them. I let it happen. I’m certain our deaths are coming. I smell it in the air. The Planet hasn’t had Her fill yet.
Day Eighteen
I took a test. I was sick this morning, and I had this awful feeling. Intuition? Instinct? I don’t know. I don’t know. It came back positive. I’m pregnant, which is impossible. I haven’t touched a dick in my life. I don’t even like men. It was a false positive. Had to be. So the last pair of us, Devi and I, took a scan. And there it was. An embryo, growing inside me. Brand new. Devi thinks I fucked someone and won’t admit it — John, probably, the only good-looking guy on the expedition. I wish I had. But other than Andrews, the only thing I’ve fucked is Her.
Day Nineteen
I’m alone.
We were doomed from the start; I’m not an idiot. I can draw conclusions, just like any other scientist. It’s all played out the same way each time. At first, I had hoped it was a correlation. Just strange, horrible visions. Now I’m certain it’s causation. The things I see in my head when I come, when I’m with Her… they are real. And not just that. I’m killing them.
Andrews. John. Devi, all of them.
They were taken. Absorbed into an infinite womb. The belly of a planet. I guess they’re not dead in the way that we
I would have been next.
Instead, I made sure I was the one who got to lie for Her. I promised Her one thing: If she let me go, I would give her everything she wants and more. She’s hungry, ravenous, all the time. But she won’t have me. I’ll give her something better. I’ll be Her emissary to Earth. I’ll bring Her everything she could ever want. I’ll fill her up by the millions if She’s patient.
But She won’t touch me again.
Me, or my daughter.
Listen to me. If you find this, if you’re here…
I hope to God you’re not, but I have a horrible feeling you won’t resist her call. She’s part of you. And that’s my fault, and I’m so sorry. But do me a favor, okay sweetheart? Don’t let her take you. You’re stronger than that. You have to be. She’s your mother, but so am I. And if I raised you, I know you’ll be a stubborn bitch.
I love you. I’m sorry.