Diary Entry 1

Another cycle, another set of docking procedures. Today it was the Mule and the Hydra, both belching their usual cargo-hold symphony. The Mule was carrying mining equipment destined for Kepler-186f, bulky crates that I had to personally supervise being transferred. The Hydra, well, it was the usual mishmash – processed protein, hydroponic supplies, and some questionable looking synth-leather that smelled vaguely of burnt rubber. I swear, sometimes I think we're running the galaxy's equivalent of a used-goods market.

Later, the Tanker arrived. Fuel transfer was thankfully uneventful. It’s a silent, hulking beast, a floating reservoir that keeps us going. We’d be nothing without her. It made me think about the fragility of this whole operation. We're so far from everything, reliant on these clunky ships.

A new device came out. They’re calling it “Somnus Nullified”. A little implant, they say, that completely eliminates the need for sleep. I was on comms with the Atlas rep, a jittery fellow named Jax. He was rattling off the supposed benefits: increased productivity, enhanced alertness, more time for research – blah, blah, blah. He glossed over the side effects, but I pulled up the data logs on my console. They were right there; everything from mild headaches and eye strain to… well, let’s just say there were reported cases of short-term memory loss and increased aggression. Jax finally coughed and mentioned that there could be "occasional instances of enhanced sensory perception and fleeting hallucinations." Fleeting hallucinations. Right.

Still, the potential was… significant. If these things work as advertised, entire shifts could be extended, cargo processing times could be slashed, research could be accelerated tenfold. I bartered hard, exchanging some of our rarer minerals for a handful of the Somnus Nullifiers. Jax tried to bump the price - typical. We settled on a reasonable exchange.

I logged off feeling strangely… excited. I told myself it was just about increasing efficiency. But honestly, I wanted to try one myself. I’m… exhausted. We all are.

Diary Entry 2 (4 Hours Later)

The rest of the cycle seemed to drag on forever. Every creak of the hull, every flicker of the monitor was magnified. I kept re-reading the Somnus Nullified specs. It’s supposed to be a localized neural-stimulant with a carefully calibrated suppression field. Seems simple on paper. I’d set aside one of the devices in my personal console drawer, out of view of the crew. They think I'm a paragon of rest and routine. Let them.

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My official reason is that we needed to test its efficacy. Strictly scientific, and all that. I kept telling myself that. But I haven’t slept more than 6 hours in days. The pull of the void, the endless maintenance, the sheer weight of responsibility… It felt heavier than normal today.

Diary Entry 3 - (24 Hours Later)

The implant… is in. I did it just after my shift ended, and before I could rationalize myself out of it. The procedure was simple enough; a small incision on the back of my neck, one click, and done. Initially, it felt like a low hum inside my head. The rest of the crew was sound asleep.

It’s been 24 hours, and I feel… wired. The world is sharper. I can hear the faint whirring of the ventilation systems as if they are right next to my head. The colors on my monitor seem almost too intense. I’ve been going through old logs, cross-referencing research data, and I've cataloged all of it in record time. I haven’t even taken a lunch break. There's almost no fatigue. It’s astonishing. I feel like I could just keep going.

I’ve been keeping an eye out for the side effects the logs warned about. A slight headache, yes, and my vision keeps shimmering at the edges, but nothing too terrible. Mostly, though, it's just… clarity. Pure, uninterrupted focus. It’s almost addictive.

Diary Entry 4 - (48 Hours Later)

It's been a full 48 hours now. The world is a kaleidoscope of sensation. I'm hyper-aware of everything, almost overwhelmingly so. The hum in my head is a constant companion, and I've noticed the "fleeting hallucinations" Jax mentioned. Mostly just shadows moving in my peripheral vision, and the occasional impression that someone is staring at me from behind closed doors.

I haven't felt sleepy once, not even a yawn, but my body is starting to feel the strain. My muscles ache, and I can feel a tension building behind my eyes. The productivity is off the charts, but at what cost? I’ve completed tasks that would normally take days. I’ve reviewed all of the navigation charts for our next passage. It’s all done, finished. But now I feel utterly exhausted, even with this thing humming in my neck.

I'm going to remove it. Now. There's no more research that can be done here, at least not by me, while I am in this state. I am also starting to genuinely hear voices now, very, very distantly, but it is just enough to finally motivate me to take this awful thing out. Perhaps a little sleep won’t be a bad thing after all. I need it, desperately as it feels now.