First Entry: User Registration

A video feed activates after streaming coded data, bursts of static interrupting its work. When it settles, it briefly displays the time and date in the primitive font of the most basic programming. The color feed is under-saturated, nearly black-and-white, showing a cramped, minimalistic station room in too high of contrast. 

After a moment of inactivity, a figure comes into view; a young man, dressed in strict uniform clothing, bearing buzzcut black hair and grey-blue eyes, sharp features and a stoic expression. He speaks in a smooth, yet cold tone of voice. 

"My name is Senn Typhos. By request of my employer, I am beginning this entry log for the purposes of maintaining internal security. I have been instructed to provide regular status updates."

He pauses and glanced away from the screen, the minute changes in his expression suggesting he is calculating his words carefully. The high Nehru collar on his ivory trench coat twists as if it's part of his skin. 

"I was born on Osmon IV, second moon, in the incubation pod of an artificial birth facility owned by AnimaSys. It was a local research and development corporation that participated in the civilian re-population program."

Here, the grainy figure reaches off screen, returning with a thin cigarette and a worn silver lighter in hand, the latter object causing a bit of lens flare on the feed. He lights the cigarette with habitual method, then takes a slow drag of the smoke, exhaling it as he speaks.

"The company was terminated due to a lack of funding in YC92. The event stranded several groups of the so-called 'tube children.' I was transfered to a government-run orphanage affiliated with Lai Dai, and educated until age eighteen. I was handed over to an Akiainavas military training program when I passed the pod-pilot candidacy test. I was certified on January 12, YC106."

Again, he pauses and takes in a shallow breath of smoke, glancing off-screen. While more curls of smoke spill from his mouth, there is a sudden jingling sound from the back of the room, where another figure shambles around on four legs. The creature turns its head to meet the gaze of the young man at the desk, before bounding up and revealing itself as a wiry slaver hound. Senn reaches out to ruffle the beast's ears.

"This is Voodoo. He's had all his inoculations. I... think that does it for registration. Signing off." 

Senn reaches towards the camera, squinting one eye as he fiddles with the device while the slaver behind him pants and tilts its head at it curiously. The feed cuts off soon after.