Alexey’s Diary is one of the most famous and elusive pieces of lore surrounding the Radius. Its authenticity, origins and even existence have been disputed for years, with no definitive conclusion. Is it real or an elaborate hoax? We are happy to announce that now you can judge for yourself. For the past two years, the editorial team of Pechorsk Radius News has been hunting for Alexey’s handwritten pages. Finally, our quest has come to fruition. In the coming weeks, we’ll be publishing several of the more credible fragments of the diary for your consideration.



Fragment #1: “Ferris Wheel”

The following text is a direct quotation from the diary, as written by its author:

… I have little memory of my life before the Radius. There are bits and pieces, a fragment of a recollection here and there, a familiar smell or a melody that sometimes finds its way into my head. I’m almost sure that I used to wear a white coat — a scientist, perhaps, or a medical doctor. But other than that, not much.

One thing I do remember vividly is looking at the stars through a telescope. The radiant night sky, warm summer wind, familiar constellations. A nice enough memory if you only get to have one.

There’s no stars in the Radius, just ash and the wicked black Sphere hanging menacingly in the distance. Many of the Changed had tried to reach the Sphere, but as far as I know, no one has actually managed to survive the journey. I’m not really interested in trying. What I am interested in, though, is seeing the stars one last time.

I figured that by climbing high enough I might get above the mist and see the sky again. The problem was that there weren’t a lot of tall buildings in the Radius to begin with, and even those had collapsed a long time ago. There was, however, a massive and largely intact Ferris Wheel at the outskirts of the town, in the remains of the amusement park, most of it obscured from view by ash. I looked at the research station for the last time (in this life, at least) and started walking.

It was going to be a long hike, but relatively safe — I was going to walk along the edge of the Radius, where danger is minimal. Somewhere to my left, behind the gray wall of ash mist, were the ruins of the town, far more deadly, and beyond that — better not to think. There are things in the Radius worse than death.

The landscape was dull and depressing. It was devoid of color and life: everything was dead, dying or deadly. Here and there stood rusty cars, long ago stripped of everything useful by marauding Changed, myself included. I remember a time when there were bones in these cars, but they were mysteriously gone now. Few things tend to stay in the same place in the Radius. The ground was covered with a thin layer of ash, which hides all sorts of things: empty bullet shells, shards of glass, mangled metal fragments. Thankfully, out here it’s not deep enough to hide other things… things that lie in the ash pits waiting for someone to step into their hungry maws, or ensnare them with one of the tendrils reaching for hundreds of meters underneath.

(high-resolution scan of the page)

Editor’s note: the was, in fact, a Ferris Wheel in Pechorsk. However, it was nowhere near seventy meters tall.

Luckily, I reached the amusement park without any incidents, which was surprising. Even here at the edge of the Radius I expected to meet at least an Ash Ghost or two — strange creatures made of ash, often aggressive but mostly just brainless. But the park was empty and silent, with broken attractions waiting hopelessly for children to enjoy them.

Those children were long dead. I felt a pang of guilt walking past the attractions. In a way, the concept of enjoyment was also dead here in the Radius: maybe I should try harder to feel joy once in a while just to spite it. No time now, but perhaps in the next life, if I’ll return with at least some sanity left.

The ferris wheel was probably seventy meters tall, and only around a third of it was visible through the mist. I looked at the rusty metal construction, which seemed almost eager to collapse, and sighed. Chances were that I would die right there and then, buried under tons of metal. My infected hand was pulsing with dull pain now, skin had turned oily black. Well, it was as good a death as any.

I found a service ladder and started climbing. The rungs were rusted through and shaky. A couple tore off from the frame they were attached to; there was no cage around the ladder, so the only thing that saved me from falling was my quick reaction. My muscles started to ache by the time I reached the middle of the wheel. There was nothing but gray emptiness around me, with only skeletal metal beams protruding into the fog. The ground was obscured, as was the sky: it was easy to imagine that they didn’t exist anymore, nothing existed but ash, and I was lost in the middle of this nothingness with nowhere to go but up.

The problem was, there was no way up. The ladder ended with a small platform halfway up the wheel, where the main support frame ended. There was another ladder, on one of the beams, but it was some distance from the platform and pointed up at an angle.

I sat on the platform, dangling my feet in the air, resting. I looked around, seeing nothing but ash, took a sip of water. I ate one of my ration bars. Then I stood up, took off my backpack and rifle, ran a few steps and jumped.

Yee-haw!

Air rushed past my ears. For a moment, I felt like I was flying. It would have been exhilarating if not for the fact that I also felt ready to shit my pants. My healthy arm almost reached the first rung. The fingers brushed the cold metal, but slipped. I thought that this was it, I’m dead. Then the fingers on my infected arm wrapped tightly around the rung, abruptly arresting the momentum of the fall.

The pain was unimaginable, but I didn’t let go, literally clinging to life. Every one of the Changed knew pain too well to be its slave. I hoisted myself up and continued climbing.

Sometime later I was on the highest point of the wheel’s rim, seventy meters above the ground. There were no stars.

Only ash.

(high-resolution scan of the page)

Editor’s note: the “Sphere” Alexey is referring to is another persistent piece of Radius lore. However, its existence was never confirmed.

I spent a few hours up there, freezing. What was the point of going down? I thought about jumping, slowly warming up to the idea. When I was almost ready, a strong gust of wind nearly threw me off the rim. It also made a tear in the wall of mist enveloping the Radius. For a short few seconds, I saw far into the ash, past the amusement park and the ruined city. And there, in the distance, I saw something strange. Right under the Sphere, there was a jagged wound in the ground. A pit more than a kilometer wide, and who knows how deep. There was a row of black dots around the edge of the pit, scattered at even intervals, like ants standing guard around an anthill. But they weren’t ants. The dots almost looked like… people.

I blinked, and then once again there was only fog. I waited, trying to comprehend what I just saw. Was it real? Was I going mad? I felt a strange emotion, familiar but almost forgotten. Curiosity.

Trying to reach the pit would be dangerous. I’ll have to cross the town, increasingly lethal anomalies at every step. What’s worse, the town was the hunting ground for other Changed. And then there was the path to the Sphere itself, of course.

But… it’s not like I have a lot to lose. So why not?

I look in the direction of the Sphere one more time. Time to start climbing down.

