Three hundred.
When I first saw the number, I stared at it for a while, as if it might politely shrink if I gave it enough time. Tending caches has always been part of what we do—quiet work, steady work—but seeing it written down as a new requirement to joining Anoikis Division made it feel different somehow. I was already counting 4 days down, that would make 120 days flying with Signal Cartel. Sometimes when I think back to my days with Pandemic Horde I wonder how it could have changed so quickly. Other days I barely think about it at all.
Three hundred is a lot of anything.
So I made a decision early on: I wouldn’t rush it.
Burnout has a way of sneaking up on explorers. One moment you’re happily scanning signatures, the next everything feels like a chore and even launching probes seems like too much effort. I’ve learned to respect that line. So instead of sprinting toward the number, I’ve been taking it in bite-sized pieces.
A few caches today. A handful tomorrow.
The work itself is simple. Warp in. Check the container. Swap out what needs replacing. Update the records. Move on. Most systems are quiet when I arrive, the stars hanging still while I go about the task like a careful gardener tending something small but important.
Nothing dramatic happens.
No capsuleers appear on grid. No sudden scrams. No heroic rescues. Just the quiet rhythm of maintenance and movement, system after system slowly adding to the count.
Sometimes I pause after finishing one, watching the counter tick upward. 142. 147. 152. The numbers climb slowly, but they climb all the same.
Three hundred still feels far away.
But wormhole space has taught me something useful over the years: big journeys rarely happen all at once. They happen one careful jump at a time, one bookmark, one quiet task completed before moving on to the next.
So I’ll keep tending them.
A few today. A few tomorrow.
Eventually, three hundred won’t seem so large anymore.
A Pixel Nomad 