Memorandum #011

Day 4,295, 23:21 Published in Ireland Switzerland by Sethesin

Last Episode : Memorandum #010
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Subject: ɘƚɒH

H̴̳̳́̽̃̾́͛̿a̶͕̞̰͔̹̘͌̓͌͋̈͌͝͝t̴̨̧̞͈͕͇̏̃̆̔̍̋͜e̸͚͈̻̭̤̞̽̕͜


There's nothing better than a cup of raw, spicy, starch stiff noodles bathed in a not too salty steamin' brine. I was weeks behind my deadline but the Type 5 is an arduous, ambitious project. Things of that magnitude take time. I placed a tea cup plate over the cup of noodles. I'd heard from someone that it was the right way to do it. The steam helps cook it or something or other? Our kitchen looked like it was made for a full staff of people but it was only me... and Roger.

I re-entered my station, hot cup of noodles in hand and sat down at my elaborate desk. Our test subject was ready in his steel clasped chair. "Feeling alright? Need to have a bathroom break?" I said over the Microphone. Roger snorted. He always laughed at that line. The subject nodded fervently. "Ah, sorry! You'll have to hold it for now, the big man is coming. Sit tight champ." I'd seen so many of these limp geese, I'd no feeling left for them. I knew what I knew and I knew I was in a very dangerous position. I was a dope to take the job in the first place but I wasn't completely thick when making the choice. It'd seemed like a dream job but my cash, the luxury quarters, all a simple illusion. I'd no time to enjoy free time despite my "wealth". By now I'd suspected they'd murk me to have a look at my brain if it suited them. I'm a medical Doctor and I pride myself on that but what I'm doing... There has to be some karma or something surely. Roger ate the remains of all the failed... Well you know how it goes, you're either all in or you're out... G*d save me.



The Monolith, Graubunden, Switzerland
Day 4,295, eRT 23.00


Nothing got Roger worked up like a handsome male subject. He'd bawl about certain "ones that got away". I'd to calm him down with 4's and whiskey. He is a total monster. Look under your bed at night and he'll be the face you see before he reefs you under and moans about how far off the off licence is before murkin' you and eating... But ara sure whenever I'd remind him of our duty he'd act plain and oddly compliant. He was a consummate professional insofar as his narrow job warranted. I'd go for a piss and when I was back I'd find him in the test room with one of our subjects, just staring. I'd to call him off like a dog. He seemed remorseful but yet...



"How're you feeling?" I asked through my microphone. We'd a slender, tanned young subject tonight. He'd had no Partisan experience or anything relevant to Goshawk on my dossier. He seemed like a normal Civ. I'd no idea why he was in the hot seat and never met the men who had brought him to me. Paranoia set in like a rash. What if they where setting me up? My brain was burning. I'd done nothing wrong but that was Goshawks way, I mean that's the way they screen folks so we don't end up with non hackers who don't believe in our beloved core. It all felt like a bust to me but Roger was frothing at the mouth. "Tell us about..." I questioned the poor sap for yonks but he wasn't even clever enough to make sh*t up. I just felt more and more paranoid. I guess he'd figured he was dead and was trying to live out the last of his life honourably, even if he was captured and prone. Maybe he was clever enough to drag me down with him? I couldn't look him in the eye.



I f*cking knew it! I got pulled by Roger, acting slow and dim as ever. "You never asked it 'bout Rasa Blank. That's bad too, on you Stringer. Bad." His eyes had a light and cunning that I'd never seen their before. He was completely lucid. I pretended not to notice. "Yeah Roger, I'll get him next round." He walked away, taking his jacket and vest off. He was no longer chubby. He was built. A f*ckin' brick house. "Go back in there and get him to talk boss." he said coldly, dropping all pretension.

"Aye, soon as, let me tell you about... you know what f*ck it." I pressed the big bad guy red release button and our young hostage was free. He bolted from his chair and charged through the unlocked door and legged it off into the labyrinth of our base. He'd surely be killed but I didn't care. I wanted to make a point. My eyes where fixed on Captain No Nothing. Sure he'd been "lobotomized" but I was still putting myself in mortal danger by releasing an Academy asset.

I just had to know.

"You only finding your morals now Stringer?" he said, cocking his pistol.

That was all I needed. He'd faked being a dunce so convincingly it gave me the shivers. I leapt to the exit doors wall and shut off all the emergency lights. I smashed the fire alarm and legged it. The ringing of the fire bell and the sprinklers going off overhead helped my escape. Roger's laughter in the dark made my blood turn cold. He wasn't even trying to catch me which made it all the worse. I darted for the exit, his old trademark whistled tune echoing down the halls after me. He let me escape. He'd get me eventually, I knew that much but I'd to tell my story, evil as it is. Someone had to know. I don't wan't redemption. The Type 5 is a lie but a clever one. I want the Academy to burn. Toss me on the pyre alive if that's what it takes.

I can still hear Roger's sinister tune. It's whispering around every dark crevasse of my mind as I'm drifting off into an uneasy sleep in this old shack, which has been long abandoned judging by the dust. No place for a man of science such as myself. Roger would have a world made for himself and his sick... I shan't say no more. If you find this on my corpse please bury me deep. Very deep.

Signing off,

Dr. Nigel Victor Stringer PhD


*Attached is Goshawks proto-type Type 5 implant notes written in binary code.