One evening, when the night had darkened the waters outside the window of Elsie’s cabin, leaving only small streaks of moonlight to glisten through the deep ocean, Elsie was seated quietly at her desk, and Charles Vandenberg’s journal was opened before her. She had taken a great interest in this mysterious man, whom she only knew through words scribbled down on a page. He seemed like a splendid fellow; remarkably intelligent, although perhaps at times a little troubled. What she knew for certain was that Vandenberg loved his work. His dabbling in all fields of science over the years had cast upon him a perspective of life that Elsie, with all her wildest imaginings, could hardly seem to understand. He viewed himself as an artist, but more importantly he believed with his entire soul that life, as we knew it, was only the beginning. He wrote:
I have applied various degrees of experimentation on many different species of animal, and all have consequently died of it save for one. I have discovered through several trials that some species of cephalopod are remarkably immune to the cancerous effects of advanced growth. If fortune favours these wonderful creatures I may be able to use them to study the long-term effects of this occurrence…
I haven’t slept in two days, furthermore I feel as though my hair is falling out. When was the last time I left this facility? It has grown awfully quiet in the unmoving darkness of the cavern. I am quite alone now, which I believe to be very fine, as it enables me to carry on my research in peace. Unfortunately, of all the obstacles my research has faced, Professor Goodwin has become the worst. He insists I remove myself from Gamma Base so that he may station me at a facility in Edith Post. I will comply with his order, however I intend to bring my own research with me…
Working for the Research Institute of Mechanical Technology in Edith Post is not at all as bad as I had imagined. I have my own workspace in a warehouse in the city, and in time have become familiar with the bio-technology that Goodwin wants me to work on, and while my official task is to improve the function of biotic limbs, in secret I have been toying with the possibility of using bio-technology to assist me with my research. As it stands, I am yet to locate what it is about cephalopod biology that makes them so suitable for my research, but if I can somehow apply it to the human genome, I may soon be able to begin testing my experiments on human subjects. I do doubt that any of the people here will agree with my methods, including Professor Goodwin. Eventually I will need to escape this place…
I believe I may have just solved one particular headache that has been bugging me ever since I departed Gamma Base. The third of five cephalopod specimens that are currently hidden away in the basement of my apartment has also presented symptoms of severe aggression alongside its heightened intelligence. Last night it escaped its enclosure and killed one of its fellow specimens, and I fear that it is now in every sense destructive by nature. I was close to terminating the specimen when a thought entered my mind, as if carried upon by the winds of scientific progress. Using my newly obtained knowledge of bio-technology I intend to create a device that shall be inserted directly into the specimen’s brain so as to stimulate the amygdala as I see fit. If this procedure is successful I may well be able to cure the aggressive tendencies of my specimens, and with a little calibration, carry on this line of work in controlling their behaviour as to how I see fit…
I was approached by Goodwin again today. He seemed ever more suspicious of my actions behind closed doors; perhaps there was a flaw in the false reports I sent him regarding the progress of my research. Surprisingly, he invited me to dinner with him and his wife and I shall be honoured to attend, after all he is a very prestigious man, and despite our differences in philosophy I do in many ways consider him to be my friend. It pains me so to withhold my true intentions from him, however I fear that he will not understand the significance of my discoveries. If I could somehow persuade him to work alongside me, I believe that together we will, bearing science as our tool, forge a new and prosperous age for mankind of the likes the world has never before seen…
Today I encountered a rather dismal young man who addressed himself as a Mr. John Backhaus. At first glance I thought of him as but another aspiring entrepreneur with a lust for the business of Edith Post, but after a slightly unnerving conversation with the man I came to realise that this one was special. He owned a small company, Backhaus Industries, it was called, but unlike all the other businesses squabbling around in the dirt of Edith Post, this one seemed to have gained power through a means that I was not daring enough to inquire about. The man quietly informed me that for the past several weeks he had set his spies upon me, and in doing so he knew all about the true nature of my work in Edith Post. What Mr. Backhaus had for me was a business proposition: that he would fund all of my research (including all of the materials needed) and in return he would be granted the rights to sell my technology to the people. I very kindly refused him. Although I saw much potential in his company, I had already decided that I would reveal my scientific intentions to my friend Robert, in the hopes that he would join me in my endeavours. I will admit that I am afraid, for should he refuse my offer, our lasting friendship will inevitably be over…
Elsie was grieved to know that the remainder of the journal had been torn out, and she picked annoyingly at the shredded pieces of paper that remained of Vandenberg’s story. She desired so much to ask Professor Goodwin as to whether or not he actually joined Vandenberg’s cause, and as to whether this research that had been conducted was the ‘unnatural phenomenon’ that Jack had mentioned in the jail cell at Edith Post. If that was the case, then what on earth did they create?
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