A Year in the Log

Thursday. A year since this log went up on the internet. I have reread all of it. I come across as brave, brilliant and only slightly obsessed, which is accurate.

The passengers have been writing about me too, it turns out, on the internet. The management showed me some of it. They write about the submarine, which they say looks real; about the puzzles, which they say made them think; and about the gamesmasters, whom they name and thank. Not one of them names me. I have decided this is because I need no introduction.

I shall keep writing, something most months. The sea is never short of incident and the Beast is never short of nerve.

Barnacle asked whether he might keep a log of his own. I said yes. He has written one word so far. It is my name, and he has spelt it wrong.