The prominent work of Samuel Barber plays in the background during the iconic moment of the Homeworld series. A heartbreaking scene of the attack on the protagonists' planet. Only a small fraction of survivors left alone in space, desperate to go on with their exploration quest, that turned into a quest for survival.

Something similar happened IRL on the 24th of February 2k22, when my Dear woke up from a sound of distant explosions...

First few days - before she could escape (leading a group of 8 of which 5 were cats) - were motionless nightmare. Yet it was also puzzling and full of unique experience that I'd like to never repeat, e.g. having a VoIP call in between of anti-air barrage on her side.

Afterwards, when she'd been finally safe with her family, it became just plain awful but bearable. In a sense that I could move, work, create, even hang out and get involved in the geeky hobby again... As during the previous one great disaster in my life, the process of regaining wits started with pure motoric. And so, I've finished the Sulaco.

U.S.S. Sulaco is the second home server line that I've been slowly configuring to replace Nostromo (a single RaspberryPi board that was drowning in all its tasks). Here another analogy with Homeworld: my fleet was unprepared for war, at least at the beginning. However, the gateway board is now also shipping VPN for the members of my first coordination sphere, while on the server board my digital garden is being planted.

I decided to wait no more and deployed the first revision of the Siege Tower. The engine still needs a couple of fixes to be called an alpha, but it already feels like a nice and working thing.

The hobby - now flavored in space-travel themes as I turn my eyes on the Traveller and its remixes - creates a defensive screen between my mind and the disastrous reality. I know it is delusional, as is the relative calmness of my current surroundings. I'm not blind, just scared.

Our world is burning. Prepare for emergency lift-off.

Cryo-trays loaded and secure. Hyperspace module charged. There’s nothing left for us here, let’s go.