**no transmission date**

**private diary note**

**AAA security**

I know that this is unusual for me; a private diary entry. Privacy, like morality is a things of the past, and the past is dead to us. Isn't it?

But things aren't usual, and I feel ... I feel ... I need secrecy. Perhaps that too is the wrong word. What I'm trying to say is that I need to clarify my thoughts to myself, to examine what I'm thinking. To write it down and then examine it back. I feel I'm missing something, that I'm aware of something but not conscious of it. Perhaps it is just a side effect of the Caprican Learning Narcotics. Is there anything even wrong.

For the last few weeks those of us chosen as part of the engineering team have been erecting (sorry but I love that word) part of the shielding apparatus that will protect Worthing from the heat death of the universe. The work is demanding and it's been necessary to develop new soft flesh simulacrums. They are like dumb, giant children, designed purely to lift and assemble the dense metal shielding components. They're made the same way our sex bodies are made, but blunt. They are without major nervous systems, so they feel very little; taste, smell touch are blurred like their semi human faces. Pin pricks for eyes and ears, two ragged torn slits to allow nasal breathing and a mouth. Communication is still required between us. That's right, we have to essence jump into them. And if there is something wrong, it's something to do with that.

There's something familiar about them. Like a memory that haunts you or a phrase that's on the tip of your tongue. No matter how hard I try; I can't say the phrase or recall the memory. But what frightens me most is that I'm not alone. When I raised the idea with Ramjet, he alluded to the same thing.

Why would we both share the same fear?

There's a production meeting soon. I'll have a word President Savage and see what he thinks.

Anyway, I have more learning pills to consume. And I feel tired. Which is unusual too.

Goodnight. Secret Diary.

**end transmission**

**network closed**

We met beneath Dome 3, in the engineer and design canteen.


President Savage was there with his 1st concubine, Mixxy Fluff. She was in her first born form; and what a form. At the Sleep ceremony there'll be a massive conjoining, I have just the male for her. I've been working on the design for 6 months now, I've tested it of course, but I'm still not happy with the stomach muscles and the tone of the flesh, but it'll be ready for the ceremony; ready for her. She may of course be in a different body too.


My other seven team members were there. We've been chosen because of our engineering skills. It's true I did a course once, about a thousand years ago, no literally a-thou-sand years ago I did basic coffee machine maintenance, but that's what passes for a degree in engineering these days, it all so automated you see, the machines do everything! Probably the most qualified of us is the vice president, Charlie Brown Baker. It was his idea to bring in the last of the Capricans to design and build the force dome to secure our future beyond the heat death of the galaxy, beyond the end of time. What boring fucks. I can understand that as universe come to an end that they might wish to stop producing off spring; as they forbade us when they gave us the gift of Essence Shifting, but to actually stop fucking altogether! No wonder they have chosen to stay behind and be engulfed by the inferno. Best thing for them, they're so bloody miserable.


Damn. They make me so angry. I'll write more later after I've calmed down. But you forgive me don't you sweet diary. Of course you do. You'll forgive what I tell you to forgive.


End Transmission ....


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