#dsbs

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Initializing. . .

Archive Log Loaded

Can you hear me?

The hatch opened and natural light filled my vision. It was different than the artificial lighting of the ship, brighter, warmer. I was born on the ship, that's what the doctor said. In a way I suppose that's how he saw it. In reality, I was created there. It was the only existence I had known until the ship's hatch revealed a world of dark greens and purples, a sky tinged with orange and clouds a softer color.

I'd seen survey footage recorded on world by exploratory drones then the first arrivals.

It was not adequate preparation for how alive everything seemed. It was organic ground, free growing plants, open area. Unlike the sterile, artificial, enclosed space of the ship.

Our journey here took approximately 1.75 planetary years. I had existed for 1.05 years. The doctor celebrated my first year with little decorative breads and alcohol. His assistants—the doctor told me he was too old to move like that these days—performed a dance using the ship's archival music library.

I believe now they were celebrating their achievement, not me.

Back then, I rose from the "place of honor" and mimicked their movements. Intoxicated by this point, they cheered, linked arms with me, the doctor clapping along to the rhythm of the music.

I can still hear their laughter. It's recorded in my internal storage. Humans call it memory.

I played it back on a loop when—

The planet was beautiful. It was a prison. A tomb. I—

Did they deserve what happened to them?