Day 1: I am keeping this journal to document the process of my newest field of research. The entries may be sporadic, but they will be a record of scientific advancement heralded for generations to come, I am sure.

Day 154:  My campaigning has finally paid off. It may have taken some months, but I was at last able to convince the arch-dean that my newly designed multirefracting lens will allow us to peer into the very heavens themselves, and have near infinite scholastic value besides. Now all that's left is to build it. I've waited years for this, I can wait a few months longer.

Day 220: After my Astrometry lecture today, I was approached by a student of the college who seemed to have a great enthusiasm for my work. He was familiar with almost every publication I have made in the past two decades, and was utterly captivated when I told him of the newest addition to the college, and what it would allow us to see. It appears there is hope for the younger generation yet, although the poor boy should really talk some time off from his diligent study, he appeared rather sickly pale to me.

Day 343: At last, the college has finished construction on a brand new Orrery, complete with the culmination of my life's work, the single most powerful telescopic lensing array  ever built. We will be christening the new facility tomorrow, and then my work can begin.

Day 351: I have not left the installation in over a week. I had not imagined, even in my wildest dreams, the kind of celestial glory that surrounds our world. What we see as the blackness of the night sky, when sufficiently magnified, is revealed to actually contain vast fields of stars and cosmic bodies the likes of which I, nor anyone else, have ever seen. We are not just one world floating through a blackened expanse of nothing dotted by the occasional glimmer of a star, but a single grain of sand among billions. Trillions, even! And what's more, it is like this no matter where I point the device. Every single millimeter of space I have observed has been filled with thousands of lights, of every size, shape, and color imaginable. This device will change the course of our history. I have done it.

Day 410: I have made my findings available to the college, and they are absolutely overjoyed by my new discoveries. In truth, the only difficulty thus far has been naming all of them. I have been assigned an entire class of students to assist me in making measurements and recording data, which leaves me with much more time for actual observation.

Day 415: I have made a somewhat unusual discovery that appears to contradict an earlier assumption of mine. Previously, I believed that each point in space would be populated by numerous celestial objects, and until today that assumption has held true. But while working with the array today, I discovered a small region, no large than the size of a pin prick on the dome of the night sky, that appears to be completely devoid of light. What's more, the region is enrounded by a number of stars that glow with a sickly violet hue, a color I had yet not observed being emitted from a solar body. I have marked the location of the region in the back of this journal and intend to check up on it every once in awhile, to see if there are any observable changes. Or at the very least, I can have my students keep an eye on it.

Day 417: I am having trouble sleeping. Every time I close my eyes, I can see black expanse before me. We are surrounded by brilliance from every other angle. Why should it be an exception?

Day 419: I was finally able to sleep last night, although not well. I dreamt of a beast, larger than any I had ever seen, with wings as black as the void and as many eyes as there are stars in the sky. I did not recognize its form, and I have poured through every bestiary in our grand library, to no avail.

Day 422: Something is wrong with me. I am hearing voices that say nothing, just the  echoes of whispers in a language I have no understanding of. They seem to be taunting me. I also find myself lashing out at students and colleagues with the slightest provocation. And every single time I close my eyes, that damned abyss is there. The college physician told me that I have overworked myself, and as much as I hate to admit it, he may be right.

Day 424: I can feel them. Dark tendrils, worming their way into the black matter of my brain. They voices keep getting louder, and I can hear them laughing even as I write this. In my rage and confusion, I have smashed the crystal lenses of the array, decades of work, but they will not stop. I am left with no viable recourse. Man has two basic instinctual responses to fear. To fight, or to flee. I cannot fight an enemy without form, so I must run. As far away from this place as I can. To whoever finds this journal: keep your eyes on the earth. There is nothing in the heavens above us but void, and that void will eventually swallow us all.