Camp Falkirk

Previous

In Case of Emergency

Posted on 19 Jul 2017 @ 5:26am by Laura Stout

Computer, begin Log. Audio only.

It's been...awhile. After my first log the urge to commit my thoughts to a data bank...It just didn't seem like a good idea, not for someone like me. But now...

[Sound of fingers drumming on the wall.]

I'm being followed.

[A hollow thunk of something–a forehead?–striking the wall.]

Maybe. I don't know. But I feel someone staring at me, a weight on the back of my neck like mum's hand reminding me to be good, except...creepier. I've felt it before, called it instinct, a gut feeling, but never for this long, never felt like it was stalking me. I feel it everywhere I go, on the Promenade, in the corridors, the lifts, the Emporium, everywhere, except the gym. Which seems stupid, if you're going to follow me into the loo, what makes the gym off limits?

Am I paranoid? Wired from too many green uniforms, expecting _him_ around every corner? Or maybe Nuary's nanites did more damage than the medicos thought and I should check myself into a psych ward.

[A sigh. The sound of a back sliding down the wall.]

Maybe I will. Maybe I'll tell them about how I can taste cranberries on the back of my tongue in the morning, or the recurring dreams about cake and hidden safes. If I'm lucky they'll pat me on the back and sentence me to talking to some damn shrink, if not...

Someone will probably start digging into the things I've been trying to forget, and we all know what happens when that little secret comes out.

[Another head thunk.]

So, I'm making this log because, in all likelihood, I'm paranoid, or delusional or both. But I can't not make it, because of that feeling on the back of my neck. Mum's creepy hand has kept me alive before, and now, hopefully it'll keep my arse out of trouble, or worse–the brig–again.

If the crap hits the turbine, if I'm not dreaming all of this, maybe someone will care enough to access my logs. If that's the case and you're listening to this, I can't tell you shit except this; the only enemy I had is dead and the only person who might care enough to sic a tail on me is a man named Nuary Iral.

And...gods, I can't believe I'm doing this...if I wind up dead, tell Todd Misra, send him my picture. He'll know what it means.

Computer, end log.

 

Previous

labels_subscribe