Journal of Dr. Alex Rivers: Contents Under Revision

"I respectfully disagree, Director, the subject demonstrated sufficiently remarkable prowess after the breach to warrant recruitment. Besides, isn't it important that we do not displace senior staff for the operation?"

"I understand your point of view Sebastian, I really do, but you have to take her age into account; Foundation work has proven to take it's toll in more than one young mind, especially when faced with the stakes we face right now."

"How about an experiment? We bring the subject into the organization as Junior staff, no difference from other recent recruits; if she proves capable of withstanding standard working conditions, then we bring her here."

"Craig, you know the requirements we're dealing with. This suggestion is simply unfeasible."

"Then, Director; I believe my resignation from the Songstrels might be order."

"Don't play these games Craig, you know you can't just leave."

"An alternate proposal then, I take the subject under my personal mentoring, utilizing the very guidance necessary so that she may be, well "elevated" when her time comes, if she fails to succeed then she just continues work as regular Foundation staff."

"If you truly believe yourself capable of achieving such a feat, then yes, you might be allowed to mentor the subject; though remember that no mention of this project shall be made until the timing is proper, understand?"

"Yes. Thank you, Director, you do not know how much this means to me."

"Believe me Craig, I do."

04/10/17

Hey. So, I don't relly really know how to start this, it's been quite a difficult time adapting to all the stuff going on right now, but I'll try. Hi, my name is Alex Rivers, I'm ██ years old, and I sound like a kindergartener writing like this. hang on, I'll start over, I'm Junior Researcher Alex Rivers (F), ██ years of age and I just began working at this "Foundation" place, apparently it's this, like, super old conspiracy government filled with weird monsters and machines and stuff. I should really explain that better; the "Foundation" as it is known, is a mysterious organization of timeless origins whose main directive is the containment and research of anomalies collected from several places around the world. Their members are recruited from staff working at one of their front companies who exhibit remarkable psychological prowess. Individuals chosen are offered the choice of taking the job or ingesting one of those little pills they call "amnestics" to forget their selection. Makes me wonder if I was ever offered the choice before I accepted it this time, I should ask Craig about that.

Oh yeah! All Junior Researchers are assigned a mentor to help guide them and teach them the way things work 'round here. My mentor is Dr. Sebastian Craig, a balding, overweight man around his mid-life years, he is helpful, though a little cold and distant. I hope we get to know each other better someday. Anyway, this entry is getting a little bit long, I should stop for today.

Rivers took some time to sit down below the AC unit in Site-19's cafeteria; it had been a long day, going around the chambers, taking notes on each one, Alex felt as if her legs were ready to fall off at any minute. Looking down at her shirt collar showed a growing patch of sweat.

Still; Craig demonstrated little more than some smudges of dust on the sides of his coat; for an overweight man he certainly could walk a lot. As she sat stupefied at the contrast between mind and body occupying the chair in front of her, that contrast suddenly spoke.

"Alex? Are you listening to me?"

"Oh, sorry Seb, I was just, you know, immersed in thought from, uh, all the things we did today."

"Very well." - said the scientist, feigning ignorance - "I was saying that I believe the time has come for you to make an… advance in your career as a Foundation worker."

"Oh! What would that be?

From the pocket of his labcoat, Craig lifted a small, yellow object, the shine it emitted temporarily blinding the younger researcher.

"Forgive me, Alex, I did not expect the anomalous properties of this item to reach such intensities. Anyway, your job today is to write a short account of this anomaly as an exercise on clinical tone. Using this template" - said Craig, sliding an unfilled "Anomalous Item" form across the table - "you will transcribe information on the object's date of recovery, location of recovery and description; no research is needed, you will merely format preexisting info.

"Very well Craig." - said the Junior Researcher - "Though I do have one request before, uh, my "terms and conditions" become available."

"And that would be?"

"I noticed a supposedly anomalous item out of proper containment while we were going around the facility, I believe that item is colloquially identified as a "jar of sweets", on the basis of

both research and personal developments; I suggest that a copy of that item be relocated to my office."

06/10/17

Hi. I didn't write anything yesterday cause I was just totally exhausted from going around the site and taking notes on each of the anomalies all-day long, Craig is quite a demanding teacher mentor, we must have done a full loop of the place, I wonder if I've seen everything there is to see? On the other hand, quite a lot of the creatures contained here appear to be sentient, some are even human! I can't imagine what it's like to be one of the specimens, spending your entire life within a chamber, under constant observation, just because you've got the ability to shoot glass or whatever. P.S - "Project Glucose" deemed unsuccessful, suggest re-attempt after completion of first week.

Blue.

The word "blue" describes Rivers' emotional state at this period of her life quite well, it's the period where Rivers discovered just how tiring Foundation work is, it's the period of her life where she first started looking at the casualties and suffering caused by the Foundation, it's the period of her life where she can't afford to get something as simple as a jar of sweets.

These thoughts were bubbling inside her head, it still was too early to be able to form a congruent opinion on the Foundation's morality and effects on human life, it was too early for a researcher to even have to think about all that stuff; but Craig's training continued to proceed at a much faster pace than normal; Rivers wondered why this was the case, though most of the time where her thoughts were allowed to move freely she was way too tired to come up with anything conclusive. All she knew was that she had to do something about it before she was worked to dust.

The word blue also describes the color of the light emanating from Rivers' cellphone, startling her with a loud notification noise, through her drowsy eyelids, Alex was able to make out the following words.

"Containment Chamber 3614, Sunday, 7 AM, Project Memento. -Craig."

09/10/17

'Sup I really haven't been able to write on this thing as much as I wanted, working at the Foundation is much more tiring than I expected, and I suspect it will only get more exhausting as time goes on. On a brighter note, Craig's working on a Project with one of the recent anomalies, this one is from Germany I think, anyway, he's landed me a spot as Assistant Overseer of the experiments, so even if I'm already overworked halfway to death that's certainly more enticing than spending my free time writing a report on a ring that shines 87.5% brighter than a normal one, though I do have to admit it's really pretty.

"Ah, Craig, it's been a while since you last attended; has there been any problem with your mentoring process?"

"Not quite Director, in fact, the subject has responded quite well to the barrage of work I've been sending her."

"Very well, I imagine it must be difficult keeping distance from the subject's personal life.

"Indeed Director, though that is not why I've come here today."

"Oh, what would be your problem then?"

"It's about A-, I mean, the subject's family.

"I see. Does she require amnestic procedures?"

"Quite the opposite, I was hoping you could suggest me an alternative proposition."

"Craig, surely you know that Secrecy extends to all beyond the Foundation, including family and friends."

"Yes, Director."

"And surely you understand that we have already violated that protocol in allowing not only the recruitment of personnel far too young; but also by assigning that personnel to you."

"Then we shall speak of this subject no further, understood?"

"Yes, Director."

11/10/17

Hello.



My first week at the Foundation is done. Craig seems to be warming up to my presence and has opened up on a lot of stuff from his past, though he still keeps a fair amount to himself. No problem with that, of course. Plus he kind of gives off that "dark and troubled past" vibe. On the other hand, there's something he told me that has been bothering me a bit, so I never really wrote this down before, but before I became a researcher for the Foundation, I used to work as a cafeteria staff at this place called the "Sicilian Court Parliament", really weird name, makes more sense in hindsight. But anyway, that ended up being one of the Foundation's front companies for recruitment, so even though I don't work there anymore, there's still registers of activity and patients being made for legal examination and other stuff. "Other stuff" being my parents that is. They still call me sometimes and it feels really weird to just lie to them about my life everything. Wondering if I would ever be allowed to tell them the truth, I asked Craig about how he dealt with his family. He told me he faked his own death.

Deep below Site-19, there was a room. In that room, there was a table.

Across that table, sat the Songstrels. A group of people, hidden from the hiders themselves, who knew a very dangerous secret.

No, they were not musicians, even if the name suggested otherwise.

No, they were not leaders, there were people much, much higher in the chain of command than them. All they commanded was their little secret project.

And no, unlike what would be expected, they were not important, there was no constant surveillance or O5 contact. They were just yet another part of the machine, spinning endlessly until the whole thing breaks down.

They were one thing though, they were concerned. With the future that expected them, with the people they had recruited, with the success of their operation.

On one side of the room there was a screen through which their leader spoke. On the other side of the room there was a door through which their members arrived.

Before that door, there stood a man that carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, a man whose concerns encompassed the safety of all, but especially his own.

"Hello Craig, it's good to see you again."

"Hello Director" - said the man, before turning to his colleagues - "Hello team."

"Hello Craig" - the room answered, almost in unison.

For a moment, Craig just observed, it had only been a week since he last attended a Division meeting, yet the other members' faces jumped out at him like visions in a dream. Over the course of a few seconds, he made mental notes of everyone that was in the room.

Sitting closest to him was Dr. Quinn, the Containment Specialist responsible for the customized housing of the anomalies used by the Division. Most of her face covered by several scarves and cloths in virtue of her testing-based disfigurements.

Opposite of the table to her was Julius Schiedmayer, one of the very beings Quinn was tasked with containing. Julius was once the co-owner of a prestigious company responsible for the manufacture of musical instruments, until an eldritch encounter left him immortal yet not ageless. His vast breadth of acquired wisdom made him a vital piece to the Division's operations, even as his mental state decayed.

Next up were the resident MTFs: Thomas Bard, the commander of Task Force Epsilon-14, informally known as the "Bard Troupe", the Division's main source of firepower. Beside him, resided Operative Melissa Winston, brought in as a witness due to her participation in recent events.

In the corner of the room resided an anomalous computer tower manufactured by Prometheus Labs whose resident criminal AI was responsible for resource management and Division recruitment through fake suicide, their ever cheerful tone contrasting such behavior.

Finally, at the northmost wall of the room sat a large computer screen, the Director's bright silhouette illuminating the room, giving everything a light blue hue. Out of all the people in the room, Craig was the only one who knew the director's true identity, from before all of this began, when they were both junior staff working with the standard anomalies. It was much easier back then.

Suddenly, Craig was snapped back into reality as the Director's synthesized voice pierced through his eardrums. It said:

"I trust you understand the reason why we called you here today, don't you Craig?"

"I believe it has to do with a security breach, Director, though the details escape me."

There was a brief moment of silence in the room, then the Director continued:

"On the Fifteenth of October, three days ago, we lost contact with one of Epsilon-14's subdivisions, led by one Lawrence Bracers, following a Project Rubinstein scouting mission in the Subantartic Auckland Islands. I believe all of you were made aware of that."

The room nodded in approval.

"This morning, there was an attack at one of our front companies, the Silician Court Parliament, 43 injured, 8 dead. We have reason to believe that this attack was orchestrated by Bracers' team."

"That is… really unfortunate, Director. Though I fail to see how it concerns my presence here."

"You are still in the process of mentoring Ms. Rivers, is that correct?"

"Indeed" - said Craig, now visibly nervous.

"I'm afraid, Craig, that her family was killed in the attack."

21/10/17

Hey. Some stuff happened recently, I still haven't fully come to terms with it, and I don't think I ever will, but I feel like writing it down might help me cope with it, somewhat. Three days ago, I received a phone call, I guess from a Foundation agent, he told me of an attack on the old workplace, I was confused, but didn't really understand what had happened at first. So, well, he told me of the casualties.



I guess it doesn't really make that much of a difference, since I wasn't going to see them again

I wish I had been there.

"Hello Alex."

"Hello Craig."

"I… I."

"You don't have to say anything, Seb, that's just life."

"…"

"I'll be back at work tommorrow, don't worry."

"You shouldn't."

"No, its alright, I've been in this the dorm the whole week. I should move around a bit."

"If… I mean, there's something I should ask you, Alex."

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"Alex, what was your family like?"

For a moment, there was silence, then she continued.

"They were amazing, just so amazing and kind and, and warm. There was my mother, who was always so cheerful and encouraging, she used to make me hot chocolate when I was nervous, I think that was the last thing I had before I… came here." - as Rivers spoke, she noticed a singular tear running down her mentor's cheek - "Sorry, I didn't mean to make it… sad again."

"It's alright. Get some rest."

"I will. Thanks for the chat, Seb."

30/10/17

Back to work.



Well, it's been a real fucking depressing time of my life, but at least I can get my mind off everything by working. Well, and venting here, as well. Today hasn't been much, Craig has let me off some of the more psychologically taxing experiments for a while, so I'm back to writing documentation files. Honestly, it's kinda relaxing. Everyone has been really supportive as well. My friends at Junior Staff got together to give me one of those little cards with signatures and have been offering to cover in for me if I'm not feeling well. It's simple, but it means a lot. On the other hand, Craig's been a little distant, I guess, it seems he's taking all this stuff really personally, like, more so than me. I guess he didn't want me to go through the same things that he did.

That's… really sweet, actually.

IN PROGRESS

18/12/18

Let's talk about humour.



Yes, I know I left off on a depressing note, and I know it's been a long time since I've last written anything here, but Craig is taking me on a field trip to Site-23 and I'm not going to use this diary again for a long time, maybe forever, so I need to get something off my chest.



I realize that, over the course of the last few weeks, I may have taken a overtly careless and naive approach to recent events occurring in my life, so I feel that I should clarify something, both for my sake and for anyone that happens to be reading these logs after I die or something.



The Foundation is not a nice place. It is a horrible, confusing conspiracy employed with the torture and imprisonment of living beings for the prevention of their escape into public locations and consciousness. It is a mental institute, where the jailors are madder than the madmen; be them emotionless, megalomaniac, murderous or whatever else there is to be. Those who join the Foundation stop being themselves; instead, they become a cog, just one more gear in the worst machine in the world, a gear that fashions themselves humanity's last line of defense from the scary, confusing things that makes noise in the night and, by extension, ends up becoming one of those things themselves.



The burden of a Foundation member isn't just carrying eldritch secrets with them for their whole lives, it's becoming those secrets, slowly but surely disappearing from public consciousness just like the very things they are keeping contained.



Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't give away this life, over the course of a few months, I've seen things that give me hope, things that make me proud to be a part of this organization. Acts of empathy and compassion towards the suffering beings behind the glass are few and far apart, but every so often, they are warranted.



Not only that, but there is more to these clinical catacombs than pain and separation, there are a few "anomalies", even using the term pains me now, that show you that there is more to the universe; more to life, than just an empty void where Earth is a meaningless speck of dust. Whenever I see those, I understand why a human being would feel compelled to give away their life only to coexist with that knowledge; I feel that pull too.



Anyway, I don't really know how to end this, and I don't feel like anything I'll ever write will top the words that precede this; regardless.



Until we meet again. -Alex Rivers.

Initial analysis complete; refer to Addendum D.R-S23 for further information. Dr. Smith, Obituary Division.