[[ Got some bad news about a fellow Signal Cartel member, so this post is in reference to that ]]
Some days the universe feels louder than others.
The bad news came earlier, slipping into my thoughts and refusing to leave. Nothing exploded. No alarms blared. Just a simple truth that settled in and made everything feel heavier than it had a moment before. I carried it with me back to the hangar, where ships waited patiently, unaware of anything beyond fittings and fuel.
I chose the Stratios.
There’s something comforting about working with my hands, even when the hands are virtual and the work is ritual. Modules slotted in. Racks checked twice. Then, almost as an afterthought, I loaded the festive launchers. Bright. Ridiculous. Small flashes of color meant for celebration, not combat.
Life is like that, I think. Delicate. Vast and fragile all at once. One wrong turn, one unexpected message, and everything feels like it might crack if you press too hard. Capsuleers talk a lot about immortality, about how death is just another inconvenience. But the truth is softer and sadder than that. Not everything respawns.
The Stratios finished fitting with a soft confirmation tone. I paused, looking at her silhouette, the absurdity of fireworks strapped to a ship built for shadows. It felt right anyway. A quiet defiance. A reminder that even when things hurt, there’s still room for light.
Carefully. Gently. One jump at a time.
A Pixel Nomad 