LOG #123


I don’t know the date anymore. The days have passed by like a swift breeze in the night. I’ve done everything I can to get to these people. Their faces now seem more and more aggravated every time I see them again. The pedigree is still unknown, their hair grows long and tangled, but they wear clothes, and dress themselves with a reasonable, rational logic that far exceeds any cavemen like capability. So this leads me to believe they are from some land we never found, some place that went under the radar. I haven’t shaved in weeks, and they make me feel self conscious about my looks, because their faces, for some reason, are clean, and professional. They look at me in a comical way when I sit down next to them and begin recording my observations. They do not communicate verbally but their eyes speak volumes. What I still find extraordinary is their lack of response to the technology I hold in front of them. It’s almost as if they have seen these advances before. I hope to not discomfit them while I continue to inquire more questions. One of them has begun to follow me, and track my every move. He lays on his back, while I type, and he climbs the trees overhead, as I walk in the mornings. He has these grounded eyes that capture the very essence of curiosity that keeps me motivated. I have sent my findings back to headquarters. They haven’t replied for days, but I am hoping they are just waiting for a justifiable reason for me to continue to use their system for my explorations. I think they might be worried though.


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