I’ve finally heard from Dr. Typhon Garlic. Sadly, the news is not good. At all. Typhon is stuck on a chunk of the ground, floating in The Rift. This rupture in the Aether is pretty much outer space, and he has only one week of oxygen.

Here’s the message he sent me:

My dear friend Peter,

I think my adventures are just about over. As Alecia and I left the Cairo Air & Space Museum, the ground next to me suddenly ripped apart, forming a giant chasm! The ground around me crumbled and I pushed Alecia aside with all my might just before I fell into the enormous rift.

I’m sitting on a little chunk of ground floating through what is essentially outer space. There’s no air, no water, no nothing but blackness and despair. I’m only alive right now because I purchased a working space helmet with minimal life support (it has two quarts of water) at the museum’s gift shop, and because I found an oxygen tank and hooked it up to my helmet.

I suppose me finding the oxygen tank was fortunate (but not surprising: an old man outside the museum had been giving them away because he accidentally ordered a thousand when he only needed a dozen to last him the final few months of his life), since I get the chance to wish you farewell.

Oh, before I forget, would you mind passing on a few messages for me? Thanks.

To my friend Dr. Al Gene: Although I can’t shake the weird feeling that you’re somehow responsible for all this, I can’t help but remember all our great times together. Thanks for being such a cool and handsome friend. I hope the mad scientist sets you free soon so you can find King Solomon’s Mines. And don’t ever stop adventuring again, you hear me?

To my friend Dan Dirtie: Ah, Dan. Ours was somewhat of an awkward friendship, with you forgetting my name and all, but I will always remember the great times I had with you and Al, and even with your future self at Convergence Point. Take care of Dr. Gene for me.

To my friend Nob: Boy, Nob, I can’t believe I’m never going to see you again. I just figured out a few days ago that it must have been you making those minotaur roars in the library. Well played, Nob. I hadn’t been so scared since I saw that Ramses action figure in the Town Mall with Al and Dan. Yikes! Oh, have fun seeing the world with Zhonn.

To my friend Zhonn Anderson: Ever since I first saw you I knew that you were the kind of person who’d never get tired of risking his life for any measly amount of treasure. When I think “crazy treasure-hunter”, you are the guy who comes to mind. Thanks for all the fun times we had together. I’ll miss them, and I’ll miss you even more.

To my sister Alecia: It seems like just yesterday I pushed you away from the deep dark blackness which I now find myself suspended within. (Did I mention you owe me one?) But really — thank you, Alecia. For everything. I couldn’t wish for a better, smarter, or more irritating sister.

To my brother Winstrom: How go your studies, bro? Well, you know, things could be worse. Instead of doing boring assignments, you could be stranded in a void like me. The worst part about it is that I’ll never be able to see you again, or go on the treasure-hunting adventure you’ve been planning. I’m going to miss you.

To my parents: Thanks for feeding me and giving me a bed and clothes and other important stuff like toys and video games. Thank you as well for being so supportive of my crazy adventures. Sadly, I won’t be able to see you again to tell you this in person. I regret to say that this is the end. I am going. I am leaving now. Goodbye!

To my Grannyma: I always loved the hand-knitted mittens and scarves you sent me during my childhood (even though you’ve kept sending ones exactly the same size as you did twenty years ago). Memories of re-gifting them to children who can actually wear them remain near and dear to my heart.

That’s it. Yes, Peter, as you can see (I bet you probably read those messages–which is fine, by the way–go ahead and post this whole thing on your blog if you feel like it), I’ve resigned myself to my fate: I’m going to die a horrible death far away from everyone I ever cared for. Not that I blame you; you’ve been a great friend. You’re the one who got me into adventuring in the first place!

Hang on — you know, when I put it that way, it’s all your fault, Peter!

Still, I don’t blame you one bit. Sometimes bad things (or rarely, really extremely catastrophic things) just happen, and I guess this is one of those times. I can’t thank you enough for chronicling all my adventures (and mishaps too).

Can I count on you to write my autobiography for me since I’m going to be busy doing nothing until the last of my oxygen runs out? I knew I could. Well, Peter, this is goodbye. Thanks again, friend. Enjoy the final photograph of me which I accidentally took when I found the oxygen tank.

Signed,
Dr. Typhon Garlic

Poor Dr. Garlic! I wish I were awesome enough to call up a rescue team to save him, but I’ve checked and the Heroica League doesn’t do space rescues. 😥

Here’s the picture he sent me:

Well, I’d better get started on forwarding all these messages. Thanks for reading Dr. Garlic’s last words with me. I know I’m going to miss him dearly. 😥 I suppose we’d better try to remember Typhon at his best. Which adventure of his was your favorite? What have you loved most about him?