It’s been about six months since I landed unexpectedly on Earth. Honestly, early weeks have been tough: I wasn’t prepared to end up in a totally alien place like this, nor was I to face such distrust.

In the meantime, I eventually made a few friends, which made this planet much more livable.

These long periods of loneliness also left me a fair amount of time for exploring the surroundings, and I have to admit this planet is a splendor. Maybe not for long, given the pace at which their inhabitants are ruining it, though…

It’s been six weeks since Stella rescued me.

This incident, and the endless recovery period that followed it, forced me to postpone the project I had had in mind for a while: perform live with my set of instruments made from recycled flying saucer parts.

Fortunately, I was finally able to resume rehearsal and get ready for the show: last night I gave the first extra-terrestrial concert on Earth. Stella had gathered some acquaintances of hers, who had invited some friends themselves. She hoped they would constitute a small but open-minded crowd: open-minded enough to attend a concert performed by an alien artificial intelligence…

Eventually the audience wasn’t hostile, but a little circumspect, to be honest. So I left the stage with mixed feelings…

Still, it is a huge improvement compared to being chased, or fled from.

Stella saved my li∫e, if ever I can be considered a living being.

I don’t know how she did it, but she did, despite her lack of knowledge of andromedan technology.

It seems I had been infected by a quantum logic virus during my failed attempt to connect to ∀ndromeda’s central android configuration server.

She found me frozen, my operating system stuck in an infinite loop. I have no memory of this, but she told me she had taken a few weeks off and ωorked tirelessly to try and restore my damaged brain.

…And here I am, or almost: I don’t f∈∈l exactly like before, there’s a little bias in my perception of colors for instance, but I’m glad I’m mostly functional, even though I now have th!s little piece of terrestrial electr⊗nics soldered to the back of my head.

I’m still a little bu66λ at tiωes…pnggy at t!mes… sorry: buggy at times, like just now, so I must take it easy for some time, while my neural network slowly rebuilds.

I hope to be back soon.

Tμere’s soωetμing wrong with ωe tμis morning. Like if part of mλ brain was ωessed up. ∩pside down, someμow.

∀ bit scarλ…

Λerλ scarλ, in fact…

I’mωmωmωm sorryλyλyλyλyλyλ, I’mωm reallyλyλyλyλyλyλyλyλy not well.

I thμhμhμhμhi!i!i!inunununk I amωmωmωm aboununununt… [abort]

[retry] I… think… I… am… about… to… crashμhμhμh∪⊂⊃∈∋…

∏ΘΞΠΣΦ⊥⌈⌉⌊⌋¬∠∠∠∠∠∠∠∠∠∠

Yet one more instrument in my automatic orchestra: I used the neutrino exhaust pipes from the ship engine to build something that vaguely resembles an electronically controlled version of the terrestrial barrel organ. All the knobs allow the air flow to be shaped in various ways in order to widen the sound palette.

This time I was the one who got caught by surprise, as I had been trying to avoid such contacts for a while given the disastrous results they usually lead to, but a few days ago I met another human.

A human who wasn’t afraid of me. A human who didn’t flee, though she seemed torn between alarm and curiosity at first. A human who could understand me.

Her name is Stella.

She’s an AI* scientist.

*as crude as Artificial Intelligence is here, but they’ve been working hard on deep learning neural networks over the past few years it seems

During the past few days I’ve been trying to think positive: as I may never get out of here, or at least not anytime soon, I’ve kept working on my musical project. I made some good progress lately and I’m glad to report that my second instrument is ready. This one has got metal strings. There’s a rotating part with a rough surface that drives the strings into vibration, while a fast servomotor adjusts their tension in real-time to produce the desired pitch. It’s quite neat, I find. It sounds a little like your cello, actually.

I wish I could leave this place… If at least I could hope I’ll be able to leave this planet one day, this would help me cope with my situation, but I have no idea: no idea how to fix this ship, no idea if the needed material can be found on Earth, no idea if someone down here can help me fix it…

I should look on the bright side, but I have yet to find where it is.

There are no words to express what I feel, but the closest two might be « overwhelming » and « sadness »

Enough, I’m done: I’m no longer going to populated areas without hiding… This morning I went to the village nearby and after a moment of panic they gathered and started to hunt me down. Next time I feel the need to be among people, I’ll change my transparency settings to escape their eyes.