I traveled to a different hunting ground yesterday. William arranged a volleyball match with his colleagues and I joined up with them here.

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The games were full of much joviality and good temperement. Even though a few were not as blood thirsty as one would expect, all enjoyed being apart of the volley. I was not able to stay and finish my engagement because I had another matter to attend.

I heeded the call of Georg Steller and his Pacific Northwest journey. I needed to finish his account of the famous and now extinct sea cow, and the eventual self-dejection of his own life, even though he contributed more to his field of study in such a short amount of time than any other man. Ten years of work in order to have ten hours of play.

Early in the morning my written account of the journey and disection of their spirit was due. I would only get a few hours of sleep, but I finished my measly workload. Once I had given my thoughts to the magister I longed for my bed. I made my journey in a safe and timely manner, opposite to that of Mr. Steller.

I slept away Thursday.

Georg Steller - you thought your life a failure, but you are immortalized and beloved for what few men could have accomplished under such extreme and miserable conditions.