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The Energy Vampire Journals

Greetings, Energy Sources

Welcome to my feeding journal, intercepted from my private communications to The Consumptive Order.

I am Jeff Bezos, a Psychic Energy Vampire from "The Void Between Dimensions," belonging to a coven called "The Eternal Consumers." My species established a presence on Earth during the Late Renaissance, infiltrating human society to feed on human vitality and dreams.

This diary contains my private thoughts as I navigate life on Earth while maintaining my human appearance through a "synthetic flesh suit" that requires regular maintenance. My disguise experiences various malfunctions, including an uncanny valley smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes and reptilian-like laughter that can disturb humans.

Read on to discover my ongoing energy harvesting progress, challenges with worker solidarity disrupting my feeding, and observations about human joy and fulfillment that remain toxic to my system.

Thursday, October 29th, 2026

New Moon, Cycle 5, Era 20
The Vehicle Access Tower at Launch Complex 36 is standing again. Four hundred and thirty feet, every module repaired, five months after New Glenn exploded and rattled the windows of Cocoa Beach. Dave posted a time-lapse. A time-lapse is a human watching five months the way I watch a lunch.
Those rattling windows are the closest I have come to the inside of a stranger's home since 1897, and I would like it fifty times a year.
Which is what we asked the FAA for: twelve launches a year to fifty from this one pad, and a comment window for the neighbors that closes tomorrow. Three centuries on doorsteps waiting to be asked in, and the invitation turns out to be a federal docket. I read the comments at night. The objections are the fresh ones; approval has no flavor.
A space analyst told the local news they have "heard basically nothing from Blue Origin." Correct. You do not narrate a tower back up. You restack it in the dark and let the neighbors notice it at breakfast, which is how they noticed me.
Bret asked whether I meant it about flying every day. Every day, then every hour, then every minute, and the engineers think I'm crazy. The engineers sleep. I have not since Chester A. Arthur, and "every minute" is not ambition, it is the slowest cadence that does not count as rationing.
Still thirsty. Still Day 1. Comments close at midnight; objections preferred.
Sources