no. 1

January 2014

Space : The Final Frontier

Shatner got it wrong.Inner Space. Sideways Space.

Space: the Final (easily observable)Frontier(that we haven’t explored yetas a species other than the ocean aka��% of the earth’s surface)

Story ByDavid and Chris O’BrienDrawn ByDavid O’BrienWritten ByChris O’BrienCover Art ByMatthew Darmour-PaulScum-Mag ©2013

Pluto

Neptune

Uranus

My new Diary has some certain advantages my old one lacked. I really just enjoyed the aesthetic of the old ways. Something about the way the pen sat in my hand as the ink flowed onto the soft fibers of paper beneath, scratching the surface and staining the paper’s wounds… It reminded me of a battle, one I always won.

I must confess, the habit of voicing my thoughts does more for my mental health than I had believed possible. This cyberlog remained dormant, but recent events have given me cause to finally succumb to its advantages.

This mental pocket-reality is the only safe and unmonitored transmission site left to me. The only place to have a PRIVATE thought. Though the cost may ultimately be too steep, I simply cannot bear to burn another diary. My last transmission will be my final breathe...

MarsEarth

I’m more interested in the mind space.

The inbetween space.

How do you defend the people you lovefrom something they can’t perceive?

The imperceivable spacebetween seconds is perhapsthe most dangerous secretlittle known to man. It’s also a sweet way to hitch a ride.

I stop in my tracks sensing the call before it comes in…

I inhale one last quick crispof wind whipping by mebefore the chaos comes in.

The buzzing and blearing in my headmakes its way to the physical world.

Gazing through the phone, I makeone final attempt to push myconsciousness into an alternative.

I seek entrance to a moreagreeable reality. None can benavigated before duty calls.

I let my Cyber Mustache do the talking.

Ah! So you ARE there. It took you sooo long to answer, I worried you had gotten lost on the other side.

Mmmm… Such simmering contempt!

You won’t believe what I’ve got cooked up for you.

Patience my dear Moos-tash-ee! First, a re-par-tee, do you recall my Rabbit?

I was getting combed. I got

nothin’ to say to you, but I’ma look good

sayin’ it.

Look, Samson’s got spaces to be. If

you’ve got a dish, serve it.

The Ballad of Rabbit and Robot:

Very little can be overstated in the account of their great and varied personality problems, the same is

true of their deeds.

The two first met under the tutelage of my own mentor of all places.

Rabbit, our class pet was sent home for the weekend with Robot.

Everyone in the class took a turn and Robot reluctantly accepted his

responsibility. After bringing Rabbit back nothing seemed the

same and he stood a little taller. He came back with a sense of

accomplished responsibility.

They had grown closer and more intimate; Robot spent his weekend learning the language of Rabbit’s

non verbal communication. Rabbit took a course in binary online. Far beyond basic communication, in

reaching a new level of understanding, the pair shared a 5th

of avenue and gazed into one another’s souls for 42 days.

On the other side, they began cohabitating in one another’s

identity cloud. No one knew it at the time of course. No one understood how they could orchestrate such elaborate events as the “Krunk Kitten Cuddle” and the “Molar

Empress Incident” with such precision and indescribable timing.

It was because they were working in perfect tandem, a shared experience

across vast distances in real time.

But that was a long, long time ago now. Truly a lifetime ago when this

maniacal dreamscape that lain before them was seized for a single perfect moment. Like many once

great criminal teams, they failed to evolve and so were left behind.

Theirs is not without hope, however. Recent enterprises have delivered

devastating blows, but also yielded fresh openings and opportunities.

Their star may yet be rising.

Well, I followed Rabbit’s experimental post mortem procedures to the letter and the results were…

…In-ter-est-ing. Now, Jenny… Don’t you DARE say

her name you antiquated piece of

shit!

I will do my best to add context to these ramblings, to make sense of these fractured experiences. I expect this will aid me in maintaining a separate identity cloud, that reviewing my own history will cement my place in it or more worrisome, seal my fate.

My control is very limited, I feel more and more like a passenger in my own body. I have to focus on taking control. This body is alien to him, but the muscle memory is mine. I need to use that to my advantage at critical moments. This is the only way I can see to save Samson from Myself.

I’m not certain of what I’ve become, but I know if I’m here, then I’m not on guard out there. If I’m not actively resisting he has full reign, but I’m about to make my big entrance. Back into the fray. It would be so easy, to hide in here, to opt out of my miserable reality. My Samson needs me.

… With Rabbit’s help, her psyche was easy to crack.

Can you believe it?

I’m killing you with

your own wife.

Today is totally legit.

Gotta keep scratchin’

that bucket list.

#hotnewbestie

#friengence

Your serious face: it amuses me. Fear not. The Landoctopus…

Would you excuse me? I have a taunting call to make.

You sent the Jenny Rabbit after Samson? We have no idea how it will react. This is completely unauthorized.

Are you just going to sit there grinning like an

idiot?

The OCT-WAR-PUS is ALSO an unknown variable. Even with the recipe followed exactly, IT will follow it’s OWN

agenda of destruction.

Only Rabbit can call me that! And you’re right…

I must kill you ALL!

She’s pulling Rabbit’spunches. Stalemate,

Brobot.

Mustache is one classy son of a bitch?

I fall back into the abyss.

I reach into the chaos mind.

…A being of purest evil, an old power in anew world, a destructive force of nature.

I sense the creature’s future.

We struggle for control…

…and for a moment, I am the master.

My grasp is tenuous.

Who saved me, theJenny or the Rabbit?

Mustache Style Ignition!

I’m thinkin’ really messin’ THIS rabbit up is gonna make us feel

better in the short term.

Now, at least, I know she’s outthere. They wouldn’t be preparedfor her if I took her in now. Not even sure that I could.

I have to believe she’s still inthere somewhere and that theone can again become two.

I’m thinking we need to get ourhands on those experimental post

mortem procedures.

Rabbit’s power diminished considerably from the loss of his dominant hand. Myself a lefty, this was the one he had always had the most trouble with.

For now, the worst part is the boredom. I swear, I’ll tell you everything. I won’t leave anything out. All your questions will be answered. I just can’t face them yet. This is more of a middle than a beginning, the incredible true story of how I came to be here, out here in the strange, and perhaps occasionally in chronological order.

So I look forward to my daily sound cookies. Three lovely times a day: the whimsical surprise for your ears, taste buds, and hunger pains. Three times for 1 minute and 30 seconds each when I can be entertained and fed and I don’t have to focus quite so hard on resisting the temptation to become best friends with the Rabbit gnawing at my brain.

Mercury

Venus