Does writing this stupid diary—
Uch, I mean, am I fooling myself? I tell myself that should I survive the Cotopaxi, and its ‘jolly hockey sticks’ of a contest, that my story needs to be told – that people need to know what happened here. But should I get such ‘flim-flam’ out of my head?
I guess we like to think we have control over ourselves – God knows, I have my doubts now – but when your mind is constantly bombarding you with conflicting thoughts, you need to be able to focus – to snap out of it.
I have come to the belief, that survival is not about physical strength, or even intelligence, but a person’s ability to overcome their own, inner self, for good, or for ill – to start listening to that little devil on the one shoulder, before the little angel on the other gets them killed.
I fear that even if I survive this round of the ‘big game’, or the next, or the next, that my own battle will continue. For some time? Forever? Will memories of the Cotopaxi haunt me like words incised into burning brass?
I made an interesting find in the crew quarters: a radio-operated explosive device, disguised as a wallet of all things. I find myself preoccupied with how to use it and, somewhat alarmingly, I suppose, quite happy to press the wires and clay of its guts around as I figure it out, with no bother of its exploding.
I’m quite past such drab little fears.
The idea that I could lay a trap for another passenger with this little, leather butterfly, while they – suspecting a windfall – should bend down to greedily snatch it, is such a comical thought.
What fun, Lucy…
It also gives me another thought: using it to sink the ship – a sizable hole in the lower hull would certainly do that, of course – but I’d want to do it at just the right time. Besides, one tiny wallet is unlikely to do the job, and I do want to keep writing. Do we want some talentless hack to just blame all this on another iceberg?
No, I shall work out the darling, little thing, for what I am sure is its intended purpose. Its radio detonator looks simple enough, but we’ve all had problems tuning a radio…