The Journals of the Founding Fathers.

March 13, 2176 From the mind of Connor, I don't know what I really expected when I decided to come to this new planet, but it certainly wasn't this. Nothing went right at all today. James, the doctor, has fixed Eric's broken arm with an improvised cast, a thick, strong branch from a tree with a rubber-like bark, which for now we have dubbed the Rubber Tree, and we held the branch in place on the arm …

…the animals and stuff we found, but now it is entirely useless. All of those were children of radiation. I am so useless. Eric proved himself better than me. I only write this down, because if by chance my body is found, swinging slowly in the breeze, I don't want anybody to feel bad, I want this to be the key to letting my sad memory go, and leaving it to suffer in peace. James