Commander's log.

Presumably August 14th. Time has lost all meaning.

Still trapped in the black. New HWP is still singing.

Well, when it isn't debating philosophy. When it passed into what I presume was the fourth hour, I decided it's doing it to spite me.

I'd assume this is hell, if it wasn't for the blessed lack of Coppers.

Remember a Stephan King story about teleporters. And an Asimov one. Neither one makes my current situation more pleasant.

Humming They Might Be Giants on loop is the only thing keeping me sane.

Somehow, this is Copper's fault.