File: Journal
Entry: This is a good place. Not a very big town, but big enough. Maybe fifty thousand humans. I spent a good bit of the day just walking around. Managed to pick a couple pockets, too, so I have an idea of what I need to seem legit around here, in addition to some Earth money. Need to find out what these cards with the holograms and long numbers on them are for. I'll look them up at the library or something . . . found a library, by the way. An information storage and access center, freely available to anyone. I can even borrow books if I get a card . . . of course, I have two that I stole, but the human law enforcement may track those. I don't know how much they care about this sort of thing, or what kind of technology they have. Need to read about those things. Probably some law in general, too. It'd be good to know what sort of things I'd get in trouble for.
File: ReplacementJournal
Entry: I'm concerned. If the clock is right, I slept for a whole day. The computers say I'm okay, but I don't feel good. My muscles hurt, and I feel weak and a bit dizzy. I don't have the equipment to check the code in my PAK or anything; all that got left back on Fortress D. Maybe if I just eat something and relax for a little while, I'll feel better.
I have to think about how much food I've got. I need to know if I can eat Earth food; according to Zim's files, a lot of it burns. Until I can find out, I have to think about rations.
Half my supplies are gone. It had to be my uninvited passenger. I seriously hope it's not him again; but if it is, he's probably run off by now. He wouldn't stay around very long.
I wonder how all this is connected. Two days missing from my mind, something horrible I did, all my passwords discovered, someone hiding on my ship, and getting sick for no apparent reason. It could be an assassin hired by the Tallest. If what I did was really that bad, they'd have every reason to have me killed. Maybe they just decided they hate me and told everyone I did something horrible. It could also be a string of coincidences; stranger things have happened. Or I could just be insane and imagining all this.
Still, I think it's best to proceed under the assumption that someone is out to get me. I won't go out unless I really need to. No sense exposing myself unnecessarily until I know he's gone.
I wish I could get on the news networks . . . maybe I'll have to find a way to tap into Zim's transmitter system. Later. Now, I need to make my muscles quit being sore.
File: ReplacementJournal
Entry: It seems whoever was with me is still around; I took a nap and woke up to find all my communications systems locked. Even my message center password has been changed now. This journal is the only password-protected file I can still access. I don't understand it; it's as if he's trying to shut me off, isolate me. Maybe I should try to find Zim while I still can; guidance is still online, even though the propulsion systems are locked. If I can download that info into my PAK, I should be able to make a run for it . . . but that would be stupid. So would staying here, unless I can get this place secured properly. It won't do to have him crawling in here while I'm asleep.
At least I still have my distress beacon. That chimney is the perfect place to set it off; the shape will amplify the signal enough that Zim won't be able to miss it. As long as I have that, I should be okay.
File: Journal
Entry: Well, emo bug has her little fortress all set up now. I'll take care not to disturb her illusion of security when I come in to write. She's getting a bit fragile, I've noticed. That paranoid chatter about someone trying to isolate her. Of course, I've heard it said that it's not paranoia if it's true, so . . .
Still, I need her to stay here. If she leaves, this whole plan will go out the window. All that work erasing those memories, the setup for reintroducing them, and especially my plan for altering my appearance. I need her knowledge, even if I have to get it without her permission. She has to stay for things to work. I know she wouldn't leave without her PAK, even if she doesn't need it to live. Hm. Perhaps I'll just take that . . . but no, it would destroy her little illusion. I need to get her outside if I'm going to steal anything more. How do I do that?
Ahh, I have it. And it'll play into the whole sickness thing, too.
File:ReplacementJournal
Memory download: It gets worse
I wake up feeling extremely sick. The ship has powered itself down; I can't get it open in time to get to the waste disposal area, so I make a run for the door. I shove it open, not a moment too soon. Whatever I ate last is now all over the floor.
After being shut in the furnace for so long, being outside feels good. I don't care that I'm exposed; the air is calming, and it helps settle the horrible churning in my gut. I know I'm sick. I don't care what the computer says; there's something wrong with me. There's no way I can feel this bad and be all right.
And then a creeping blackness overwhelms me.
I wake up on the floor where I fell. It takes me a minute or so to get up, and when I do, I head straight for the door. It's dangerous to be out if I'm this sick. What if someone had come along and found me? What if that assassin or whoever he is had discovered me lying there?
I try lift myself up on my spider legs to open the door, but I can't. It takes me a second to realize that my PAK is gone. I look around frantically, but it's not on the floor anywhere. It's been stolen.
I have to get inside now.
Entry: Ok, no more memory downloads for a while. I'd forgotten what a pain they are to do when I have the cable plugged in directly. Stupid jerk stole my PAK . . . dunno what he thinks he's doing, but it's not funny. I can't really get in and out of here now; it was hell trying to close that door with nothing to help. I'm trapped. I guess when my food supplies run out, I'll use the beacon and accept whatever happens. Unless I keep getting worse physically like I have been; in that case, I may not last that long. Not that I really care anymore; what do I have left?