Sliced Bread 2: The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

And that's why I'm posting all these journal entries via Itzhak's superduper power-PDA. I'm in space, headed for God knows what kind of nightmarish planet, with Ingrid, a couple of lowlifes, and some inscrutable green aliens.

Fehnruller asked me what I was doing, typing away on this. I told him it was just something I used to remember phone numbers, and he snorted and forgot about it. At the time I was e-mailing Cruickshank to tell him where we were, ask him to cover for us with our friends and families, and get him to pass on to Greyghost all the relevant information he'd need to arrange a rescue.

So far space is pretty boring. For one thing, it's dark. For another, there's hardly anything in it. Ingrid's been teaching me bridge, which we'll need in order to be perfect slaves to Fehnruller and Misty, but it's going slowly. I hate card games where you have to take tricks. Anything where you have to remember the whole deck... include me out.

One interesting part was where we shifted into hyperdrive. I guess that's what it was. I heard Fehnruller say something about firing up the 'Poplar Drive'.

"Poplar Drive?" I asked.

"Shut the hell up," he told me. "You don't know a damn thing about it. I could call it the Shit Drive and you wouldn't know the difference."

It's going to be a long trip. Ingrid and I are considering going into the old, "Are we there yet? Is it around the next corner?" routine.