July 12, 2xxx
We’ve been traveling for weeks, mapping out the territory between the mountains and the sea. I’ve felt a pull to the sea. It’s our job to get there, sure, but I need to get there. Soon, too.
The men are carrying on well. We’ve pushed through the humid, rain-soaked lands and we’re now in a desert. The RNN’s landscape seems to do as it pleases, ignoring the basics of physics. But we’ve adapted well enough.
Nobody has mentioned my episode, and I’m grateful for it. I’m still not sure what happened, but I can’t deny I feel differently now. I see differently. I don’t say anything to the men because I don’t want them to think I’m crazy, but there’s a world here most of us don’t notice.
Maybe it’s just the desert landscape getting to me. Walls of red stone and sand.
July 23, 2xxx
We’ve made it to the ocean. There’s nothing here. Just an expanse of water. We’ve set up camp on the beaches, and my lead cartographers are planning our next move. I’m trying not to show my disappointment.
July 27, 2xxx
I’ve sent the men north to continue mapping the coastline. I’m staying here. Tentacles have appeared in the sky and I need to ask them why I’m here.
July 28, 2xxx
I’ve learned to communicate with the tentacles. Okay, that’s a bit of a lie, I haven’t really “learned” anything. I accidentally figured out if I shut my brain down for a little while, the tentacles speak to me. They’ve told me to build a village here. The village will support a factory, and the factory will make me millions.
My cartographers are set to return tomorrow. I’m not sure what to do.
My apologies for ignoring this journal. Now that I don’t have to answer to the queen’s cartography department, I haven’t found much of a reason to write in here. But today, after months of work, I finally have some free time, and it sounds cathartic to write for a bit.
We’ve built out most of the town, and the factory is up and running. When I told my crew I planned to stay behind based on a recommendation from the tentacles, they all sighed in relief. It turned out they’d all seen and communicated with the tentacles, but were too scared to mention anything. We set to work that day, sending one courier back to the queen to tell her we wouldn’t return.
In the factory, we manufacture dreams.
We sell the dreams in bottles. We even have mixtures meant to help with different moments in life, like prenatal dreams, stress relief dreams, or divorce dreams. We have anti-diarrhetic dreams, respiratory health dreams, weight loss dreams, and diet dreams. We have waking dreams and sleeping dreams. We have a variety pack we offer to test out the different types.
With just three ingredients we can blend nearly any dream you want: tentacle, sea water, and a splash of our own thoughts. We need to be careful though. For example, too much tentacle and you get nightmares. Too much sea water and you get anxiety. But too much tentacle with an added dash of some of our own thoughts and we get eroticism, a top seller. We need to be especially careful on that mixture, because eroticism mixed with anxiety of fear tends to scare away customers.
Sales are going well, though I’m worried about how we’ll scale up if demand increases. We’re already having trouble filling orders and we haven’t done anything in the form of publicity. I’m also a little worried about corporate and government interests. But for now, things are going well and the men seem happy, which seems like enough.