All 31 days of Inktober 2026 in one place: every drawing and every log, in order, from the last fresh apple before launch to two robots flexing on the grass back home.

Day 1: Apple

Mission Log, Day 1: Last Fresh Fruit

One apple, already bitten, sits on the console beside the launch checklist. It’s the last fresh fruit aboard before we leave the ground behind. After launch it’s freeze-dried and foil pouches for the duration. The cables are strapped down, the gauges are alive, and the ship is ready. I’m giving the apple a few more minutes.

Inktober 2026 31, Flex

Captain’s log. We are home. All of us, hero, survivors, SOSi, even the two robots, down the ramp and onto solid ground, and I don’t mind admitting my knees gave way.

The dapper man walked us to the edge of the landing field, tipped a gloved hand, and went back aboard without a word. We stood there breathing real air. That should have been the end of it.

Inktober 2026 30, Cookie

I only touched it to steady myself. A bulkhead console in the corridor outside the machine hall, bolted down like everything else on this ship: a squat screen in a scarred metal frame, a slab of keys beside it, a pair of sliders, a row of tiny lamps. Behind it, a glass valve glowed amber in its socket and a fat cylinder hung from the ceiling cable like a sleeping animal.