Scientifically Perfected Misery
đ ExoGenesis: Chapter 29 | In which Anthony discovers that recovery hurts, propaganda flatters, and being remembered correctly may be too much to ask.
EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, IâM A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
Copyright Š 2025 CF Sten - All rights reserved
New Reader? Start Here: So Apparently, Iâm a Space Camper Now?
Anthonyâs Chapter 28 Recap: âI made it back down the mountain sore, bruised, and unfortunately alive enough for everyone to start treating me like some kind of hero. Then Dexter showed me Curatorâs version of events, which was less of a record and more a flattering lie with our mysterious clients inserted into the background like divine sponsors. Their names were Avory and Donny Dalton, apparently, and for once I was disappointed not to remember them.â
Scientifically Perfected Misery
Laying in bed to recover was boring enough as is, but when supplemented with scientifically perfected misery on a platter it was downright torture. Barely a whole day had gone by before I wanted nothing more than to fight another monster â or, rather, fight one for real this time. But without all the fight juices coursing through my body, everything was rather too painful. Even sighing in boredom punishing me with pangs.
Having accessed my PDA properly had seen me cursed with a variety of Get-Well messages from strangers up in HQ and no shortage of accolades to my bravery. But I knew the truth. I was just screaming like a deranged gremlin at the creature eating our equipment. Naomi saw what she wanted to. Someone dependable in the dark taking initiative. Even if I wanted to, I knew I would never voluntarily do that again. At least not without a gun.
I really wanted a gun. Naomi only had hers. I would feel safer if we could request more. If they could give us worthless shovels, surely they had some spare hardware, right? Especially now that weâve confirmed big fauna.
Perhaps my biggest humiliation in all this was perusing through Curatorâs⌠curated story of our quest to colonise this planet. I looked like the protagonist from a classical macho flick. Under the clearly divine guidance of our clients, I had apparently braved the badlands to lead Dexter and Naomi to an oasis to set our camp; only Naomi should have been missing for this part. I had supposedly used a bush machete to handcraft a whole village hall and palisade to protect us, despite me only actually making a campfire and some basic drying racks.
As if the story wasnât already far flung, I had apparently also discovered a sapient merfolk and made contact, which I could only assume was the fish that built little nests. We were going straight into fable territory with this one. That awkward party we had with the captain resembled an absolute feast with our benefactors taking the main seats at the head of the table. Instead of a bunch of spacemen, we looked almost tribal. I didnât even recognise anyone from the ship, not even the captain.
Finally our benefactors sent the three of us up the mountain to exploit its resources, where I fought a 6-legged dragon-something. I didnât even hit it. Naomi took it out. And for some reason she was holding a crossbow instead of a gun. Instead of just being tackled, the dragon was sinking its teeth into me and I was stabbing it with my non-existent machete.
These were all told in generated murals giving small parts to a whole. It ignored all the times we split up as a group, and made everything a prevailing group effort.
It was all very silly. The thought that this was going to hang on some wall years into the future to teach a new generation of their âfounding membersâ. Boy, I couldnât wait to see the final part.
I was just about to toss my PDA aside when I remembered there was more to it. Games, for one, but also my final documents to speed up my space lapse recovery. I once again had a look at the files.
qualification_quiz_bowers_anthony - audio
dossier_bowers_anthony - text
identifications_bowers_anthony - text
statement_of_consent_bowers_anthony - text
interview_bowers_anthony_1 - video
interview_bowers_anthony_2 - video
Last time I listened to the quiz. I could read my dossier or identification, but I wasnât sure how much I wanted to be spoonfed my own identity from a document. At least there were two videos I could watch that might feel more comfortable. Maybe theyâd get my brain cooking.
I started the first interview video. The room being recorded looks awfully residential, not at all like an office. There was a dull red couch with a floral sheet thrown over it, and the wall was an unassuming magnolia, with a full floor green carpet, quite worn and in need of a bit of maintenance. A man stepped into view and sat down on the couch. But it wasnât me. At least I was pretty sure it wasnât me. His voice sounded a lot different from the quiz too, but I was somehow too emotional over hearing him speak that I didnât really hear what he was saying.
He seemed to talk at length as he was being questioned about something or another, and his tone was that of enthusiasm and admiration. But it was only 5 minutes long, so I had to replay it over and over. I almost welled up in tears as I was beginning to understand that I was listening to my next of kin, Martin Bowers, my older brother. He was sharing stories about my various trips out in the wilds, those which heâd participated in. He seemed so exuberantly confident in my abilities, even as I now doubted my own more than any. But what got to me more than anything was that he was trying to convince someone to take me away from Earth, far away. And who knows when or if Iâd even return.
The next video was much more of the same, but this was a much older man and a woman. Different house. They had similar accolades to share about me, and how adventurous I had been in my youth. It didnât take long for me to piece it all together here, and this time I really did start crying. That was my Mum and Dad, Edith and Hector, and to no surprise he had a cup of coffee with him for the interview. Seeing, hearing, it was all I really needed to put more puzzle pieces together in my memory. I would have to make sure to thank the Captain when I had the chance for giving me these files. This was definitely a good pick-me-up.
Motivated, I tried to make my way out of bed, before every nerve in my body told me I was not ready for quite a while yet. Demotivated, I laid back in bed. I could have sworn I had broken a rib or something, but Naomi assured me I was in one piece, just bruised like a bad fruit. Dexter said I should feel better in two days, and that they wouldnât need any more RDMs while I recovered. I was immediately missing the âgood old daysâ when we just had tents and a campfire. Probably because I hadnât found out about the monster yet.
I hoped we wouldnât be finding ourselves having to go back up there any time soon. If the Curator had its fan fiction way with us, weâd probably already be up there with pickaxes trying to extract precious gems and minerals like greedy goblins. And I could not for the life of me imagine that life. Not to mention it would mean more encounters with monsters.
Monsters? No⌠it was the local fauna. I would normally be risking encounters with the occasional shy bear in the woods who likely wanted nothing to do with me. Now I was dealing with machine-eating mega monsters who had no history with humanity and no reason to fear them.
I could barely hear the sound of someone stoking the campfire and the clonking of wood being stacked. Someone was managing the campfire in my stead. Not sure why, but that did bring some comfort. Though I had no reason to necessarily suspect that the native wildlife had any strong aversion to fire. Please be scared of fire. As long as that campfire remains lit, I could at least hope it was giving us some protection.
[Last Update: 21 May, 2026]
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