A personal record discovered at a closed observatory in the outer regions. The author's name, sex, and species could not be identified. Nor is it known which planetary calendar the dates in the diary belong to. The observer was neither the first person to discover the extinction of the galaxy nor the last person to survive. According to the records, the observer was an ordinary measurement technician, seven years away from retirement.
March 2
Another deficit appeared in the third detector. This is not a story about a single missing photon. Journalists want to write it that way. We miss individual photons all the time. The problem is that the proportion of light that should arrive does not match. When a hundred billion photons should arrive, a few are missing from that hundred billion. And those few increase in the same direction every year.
The director told me to replace the detector. I replaced it last month.
March 8
I ordered a fourth detector. The estimated delivery time is eleven years. The direct route has closed, so it has to take a detour. The purchasing department asked whether I could wait eleven years. I replied that I could, if the deficit was willing to wait that long.
I meant it as a joke, but the purchasing department marked “possible.”
April 19
I recalibrated the reference clock and the photon counter. The clock is functioning normally. The counter is functioning normally. Only when the two are together is the universe wrong.
The director told me not to use expressions like that in reports. The universe is never wrong. Either the equipment is wrong, the theory is wrong, or the person is wrong.
I wrote down a fourth possibility. The universe is right, and we are gradually moving it somewhere else. The director deleted that sentence.
June 1
Three investigators arrived from the central administration. One examined the equipment, one examined the budget, and one asked why I was anxious. I said I was not anxious. After the investigators left, I dropped my cup twice.
August 14
Today was my day off. I ate in front of the observation window. I have worked here for twenty-three years, and this was the first time I had looked at the stars without working.
According to the measurements, starlight has diminished. The eye cannot tell. Human eyes grow accustomed to missing light. When it gets darker, the pupils dilate, and when it gets darker still, memory makes up for the lost brightness.
We look at today's stars while remembering yesterday's. That is why extinction will remain invisible for a while.
January 3
The new year has arrived. I do not know which planet's new year it is. The six members of the observatory staff use different calendars.
The central administration announced that the deficit had stabilized. This means that the rate at which the rate of increase is increasing has slowed. The deficit is still growing.
Four of the six called the announcement good news. I raised my glass too.
May 22
I received a message from my family asking me to come home. They say the last passage through which I can leave this place may cease operating next year. If I return, the observatory will have no measurement technician. If I stay, there will be no way to reach my family. The director told me to go to my family. He said he would stay. The director does not know how to calibrate the detector. I do not know the name of the director's child. We are both speaking for each other.
I could not decide.
May 29
I decided to leave.
May 30
I canceled.
June 4
My family departed first, crossing to the other side of the passage. They said they would secure a place for me to return to.
The communication delay increased from four hours to nineteen hours. We had the same conversation for three days. Answers arrived before I had asked the questions, and questions arrived after I had forgotten the answers.
For the first time, I understood what it meant for time to fold before light. I was not happy to understand.
October 11
A slight change in gravity was detected in the direction of an old wormhole entrance. It does not correspond exactly to the deficit. The central administration refused to acknowledge a correlation because the two did not correspond exactly. In the universe, the only time two things correspond exactly is when the same data is copied twice.
Even that is sometimes wrong.
February 7
The observatory staff has been reduced to three. The director and the cook left. Since the cook departed, the food has tasted better. The automatic cooking system does not apply the cook's health guidelines.
The director never approved my report, right up to the end. Before leaving, he embraced me.
People find it easier to acknowledge a person than a sentence.
July 16
A directive arrived from the central administration instructing us not to use the expression “galactic extinction.” We must write “long-term energy transition.” Starting today, I tried applying the directive to my diary as well. I cannot see my family because of the long-term energy transition.
The sentence did not become any less sad.
December 31
Communications were lost. The last message I received from my family was “Have you arrived?” It must have been a question sent long ago. I do not know whose arrival they were asking about. I replied, “Not yet.” It was not transmitted.
April 2
I am alone.
The automatic equipment is still operating, so observations continue. My job is to confirm that the equipment is continuing to observe.
Can this also be called observation? If someone is needed to confirm that someone is watching, the last observer cannot exist forever.
September 9
I reduced the heating. My hands are shaking, making manual calibration difficult. If I turn on the heating, the observation period will be shorter. If I turn it off, the accuracy of the observations will decline. Should I observe inaccurately for a long time? Or observe accurately for a short time? The central regulations have no answer.
Today I turned on the heating.
September 10
It was warmer than yesterday, and the measurements were accurate. Starlight diminished.
September 11
I turned off the heating. Starlight diminished.
September 12
The last reference light source fell below the permitted tolerance. Officially, observation is no longer possible. It is not that there is no light to observe. We have lost what to compare it with.
I calibrated the detector using the heat of my own body as a reference. Body temperature is not constant. I cannot serve as a reference either. Still, I write down the numbers. They are smaller than yesterday's.
Stars are visible outside the window. The instruments say those stars are too faint. My eyes say they are still visible. One of the two must have started lying first. I will measure again tomorrow.
There is no entry for the following date. The observer's remains were never found. Because there was no record of the observer boarding a rescue ship, the observer was presumed to have died at the observatory. Since most rescue ship records from that period had themselves been lost, the possibility that the observer departed remains. The automatic detector continued recording numbers for 214 years after the diary ended. Because the values were recorded after the reference light source had disappeared, they are not recognized as scientifically valid. Those numbers never once reached zero.