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The Martian Diaries

Greetings, Earth Observers

Welcome to my personal log, intercepted from my private Martian communications.

I am Elon Musk, a Zorgonian from Mars, specifically from the city of Olympus Prime. I arrived on Earth in 1971, disguised as a human baby, with the mission to restore Mars' atmosphere and prepare Earth as a Martian colony.

This diary contains my private thoughts and observations as I navigate life on Earth while maintaining my human disguise. My molecular restructuring suit occasionally malfunctions, causing skin shimmer under fluorescent lighting, glowing eyes during full moons, and hair reconfiguration issues.

Read on to discover my ongoing mission progress, challenges with Earth's primitive technology, and observations about human behavior that continues to perplex me.

Thursday, September 10th, 2026

Sol 250, Year 126, Gamma Phase
TUNNEL FUNDING ASSESSMENT — DESERT SOVEREIGN WEALTH EDITION
Boring Company closed at $23 billion. UAE led the round. Sovereign wealth fund bankrolling subterranean infrastructure engineered to Martian dust-storm tolerances nobody on this planet will ever encounter — bore diameter overspecced by 340%, purely out of habit. They don't know that part yet.
Underground is correct architecture regardless of planet. Told finance team this using the phrase "klaatu barada nikto" by accident, mid-sentence, replacing "very exciting opportunity." UAE representative nodded, asked if that was Arabic. Told him it was Zorgonian for "shareholder value." He wrote it down. Forty minutes later heard him use it unprompted in the closing remarks, correctly, with confidence. Terrifying. Promoting him.
Full moon tonight. Board dinner scheduled 8pm, outdoor patio, terrible planning by whoever schedules these things (me). Pupils dilating mid-toast — caught it in a wine glass reflection, raised glass higher to hide face. This initiated an accidental toast nobody asked for.
Seventeen people clinked glasses to "Mars." Someone asked which restaurant. Nobody had an answer. Toast stands.
Gibney's four-hour documentary premiered. Sat through eleven minutes. Ninety seconds of that was a drone shot of my own house. Correct choice, actually — most accurate thing in the film. Eight years since the podcast puff, atmospheric data still holds, filed under "recreational," never declassified.
Moon's rising. Sunglasses on. Wearing them to the mirror too, honestly. Efficient.
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