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 the Man Who Destroyed the World
[Image: ykscopy.png]
feel free to comment on what's happening, speculate on what you think happened, piece together the story as a group. hopefully you'll be intrigued and understand why the world ended, and how it did.
What is this, exactly?

OCT 09 2051. 0743 HOURS.

#log_entry from

I found a couple excerpts located on a laptop which I believe was initially located at the Lab in Toronto. It was pretty fucked up-- all corroded and destroyed, but I managed to extract a couple good logs from it. I believe the laptop was used by Daniel Thompson, head of project X. I cleaned them up as best I could, and marked places with double squarebraces [[]] where the text was indistinguishable, or I wasn't sure what was going on. I'll have to find other things to cross-reference and fill in the blanks.
Baker out.


FEB 12 2046. 2152 HOURS.

#log_entry from usn:local-pw:admin

It's getting blurrier every second- my vision. I can't tell whether or not that's my body reacting to the serum or the stress. My eyes can't focus -- I can barely grasp my surroundings. It's a massive stadium, once used for... some sport. I'm not sure, I never really played much... always too focused on my work. [[garbled mess of data]] I feel terrible, more now than ever, for my children. I was away working, and their mother'd been dead since Chrissy's birth- but this is not the time for sorrow and regret. No, this is a time held only for survival. But is that really an option? I mean, I'm not even sure I'll make it through the night. Harold [[Who the fuck is Harold?]] said the serum should keep me afloat for a few more days, but- I've got it worse than most here. I was at the epicenter. [[I assume he's talking about the lab when it happened?]]


JAN 10, 2046. 1230 HOURS.

#log_entry from usn:thompson.dc-pw:iloveyouelise

I don't have long, I've got to get back to the lab to work on X again. I feel like our research is coming a long way. Marissa and I have really been making progress with the new strain -- it's not killing them immediately anymore, which I suppose is a good start, right? Either way, any progress is good progress. Edison never failed- he only found thousands of things that -didn't- work. Right? So I guess I'm doing the same.
[[ there's a couple of paragraphs of gibberish, I'll put them here for now, but I can't really promise anything. It might be other logs corrupting this one. It doesn't pick up until a couple down.]]

[[Who the fuck is Schrivert? Harold maybe? Fuck, I wish it gave me a first name.]]

I'm going to be attending Chrissy's ballet tonight. The little bugger loves to dance. She's pretty good for a twelve-year-old too. I just wish her mother was still here to see her go. Megan should hopefully be there too. I might let her drive, you never know. She's got her learner license: whatever they're called now. I might, but the roads are a little icy. It's a difficult choice- but regardless. I find Megan hard to understand now, she's getting to that age. Soon she'll start arguing with me and she'll hate me, and well, I'll deal with it when it comes, right?
I wish this damn computer talked back. [[Me too, mate. Me too.]]


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