I have wandered further on this isolated planet. It has been three weeks now and there’s not been any sign of a rescue party. I might as well see if there’s something else to this planet other than the wild forest and the crashing waves. I think I’ve wandered along the beach enough. There has to be something more.

The more time I spend away from the sea, the more I think the strange dark skies aren’t the norm here. The further I get, the brighter it gets. Maybe there’s something to the violence of the waves that makes the skies there seem so dark. Or maybe it was just a season. Maybe the sunlight was less over there and brighter over here. Maybe it is just like winter in the northern parts of Canada back home. Sunlight there isn’t as long as elsewhere. I just didn’t think I’d walked far enough to see a difference.

Maybe this planet is smaller. Maybe it is further from the Sun. Maybe I should have paid attention back in Mx. Griggsby’s science class. I sure didn’t think I’d need that information now. Not like I really need it. Knowing what size the planet is isn’t going to save me. Knowing how to find food and water, and maybe other people, will do the trick nicely now.

Good thing I was a Girl Scout. That, I paid attention to. I know how to set up a tent and set a broken bone. I know how to open a can with a knife and how to start a fire without a lighter. Maybe soon I’ll need to use those skills.

Mx. Griggsby told me to always pay attention, but Grams told me what I wanted to pay attention to. I guess I should call Grams Mx. Grams, out of respect, but it doesn’t seem sensical.

I’m glad that a few years ago somebody came up with the gender-neutral term Mx. to show respect. When you become an adult, it is nice to have something to add to your name so everybody knows it. Sometimes you need the prefix so you know yourself.

None of that matters now. I’ve not found anybody else, adult or child, to exchange names with at all, much less polite prefixes. But up here, on this ridge, I can see signs that humans have been here. Down in the valley I see lines in the red soil. Looks like somebody has been farming. I wonder what they can grow in this iron-rich soil. It sure looks like Mars down there. I wonder if all the soil is like that.

The mountains in the distance look inviting, but I can hear from here the calls of the animals. Fortunately it isn’t that loud from this far away. I wonder why they live in the forest and not anywhere else? Is the soil too dry for them? Too acidic? I’ve not tested it yet to see how different it is from Earth’s. I’m glad I brought my kit with me. I’m not sure what I’ll do with the information, but information is power, right?

The purple rocks and waves below are interesting. The rock I’m standing on is the same purple. It seems sturdy enough. That looks like a tidal pool down there too. So strange to have a pool right next to a barren plain, but there I go assuming this place is like Earth. Every place is different in some ways, and the same in others. Kinda like how England is almost the same as America. Or is it the other way around? I forget.

Are those stars in those rocks? That can’t be. Stars, down there? Why aren’t they up in the sky like they should be? Maybe that’s just the glint of some mineral. I’ll have to go down and check tomorrow.

As for now, I’m tired. It’s taken me two days to get up this rock to see this view. I’m glad I went to the gym all those years. I sure didn’t think I’d need the exercise like this. Most people scoffed at me for actually exercising my own body. They take pills for that, or hire surrogates to do their heavy lifting for them. One person too many said “Hey, why don’t you exercise for me!” and darned if somebody didn’t figure out a way to do it.

Nobody here would have surrogates working for them. Anybody who lived here would have to do it all themselves. They’d have to figure out how to make their own tools too. Nobody is supposed to live here, but it sure looks like somebody does. Or at least did. The only way that somebody could get here was accidentally on purpose. That’s the way to do anything off the books and out of the way. You just happen to end up having an accident. You kind of plan it, but you can’t look like you’ve planned it. So you sure can’t take any big tools with you. They’d be noticed. Then you’d be challenged, and challenged is the last thing you’d want if you were planning on defecting to some off-the-charts planet.

Now I’m starting to think about this. Do I really want to meet people here? Would that be safe? Would they be sane or scary? Would they be like squatters in abandoned houses or hippies from two centuries ago? Sometimes people drop out of society because they never fit in. Sometimes they reject society, sometimes society rejects them. They might not take kindly to somebody dropping in unannounced.

Fortunately Grams taught me how to “Hello the house”. Back in the mountains of Appalachia when her own Grams was a girl, she learned to yell out “Hello” to a house she was approaching. This prevented unfortunate encounters in the days before telephones were common to announce you were a’visiting. Unfortunate encounters like having your head blown clear off.

I sure hope that any people left here are friendly.