MirandafonKonless
Above my head is a violet sky. Below my feet, dry dark earth. The helmet cannot be removed out here, and all around me lie fragments cordoned off by the force tape of excavation sites.
This is Viur. A dying planet in the system of the same name. And my place of exile. The word "archaeologist" in the occupation field is a joke at the expense of everything I used to be. My work now is studying a vanished civilisation.
Frustration, restrictions, excavations, I can't stand - and one saving grace: a paper diary, a notebook, a hello from the time when this planet still bloomed. I want to believe that somewhere between its lines lie answers. Answers the researchers are looking for, and answers I need myself.
What happened to you, Viur? And what am I supposed to do next?