I’m sitting on the couch in the common room, mentally stuck in the aftermath of yesterday's turmoil, the aftershocks of which are still reverberating through the lab. The shock of the events has left everyone in a state of uneasy recuperation. My hope was high this morning, confident that the doctors would deliver news of the experiment's cancellation along with our checks. Yet, this hope was swiftly crushed as their announcement never arrived. Amanda, on the other hand, was officially released from the experiment. She vanished last night while the rest of us slept. Another casualty succumbs to the mounting fuckery of this place.
Ben's descent into madness accelerates with each passing hour. His monologues to himself have worsened, his voice switching into different accents that have made us all feel like we’re in the nuthouse. Currently, just a few feet away, he wears a vacant expression, engaging in a bizarre conversation with himself. I can only imagine the doctors in the video room, meticulously taking notes, their remarks dripping with a feigned profundity. While I can't provide audio due to my laptop video option getting disabled, I'll transcribe what I hear to the best of my ability:
"Are you not entertained, you bloody little bastard?"
"Many things, not good here, make me ponder, ponder, ponder!"
"Well, you'd better snap out of it and face reality. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck here."
"No time for coffee, only pain, only past, only pain, only past, only pain, only..."
"YOU'VE COMPLETELY LOST YOUR MIND! HAVEN'T YOU, YOU LITTLE WANKAH?"
"Many things lost, many, many things. Wake up, wake up, wake up!"
I'm at a loss for interpretation and my patience to continue listening is dwindling. Yet, this dialogue offers a window into his deteriorating mental state. When not engaged in this unsettling exchange, Ben is preoccupied with the wall, or he's convulsed with laughter at the ceiling lights. His sanity wall has collapsed, and it's clear that Formula 35C has become his nemesis.
The prospect of witnessing another victim succumb to the fate that befell Randy is too much to bear. Please understand that mere days ago, Ben was perfectly lucid. The spectacle of someone unraveling right before your eyes is upsetting. The display of one's breakdown into madness is disturbingly contagious. Have you ever seen someone behave irrationally and then sensed a creeping instability in yourself? It's a collective descent into uncertainty; we all grapple with doubts about our own reality, myself included.
Jeff is my saving grace – he remains blissfully unaffected by the viral psychosis, an anchor that helps me maintain my grasp on sanity.
Emily's perched on the couch, looking like a delicate porcelain statue that's been told to stay still. Not a peep from her since last night. It's like she's used up all her spirit and called it a day. I can't help but wonder what profound life reflections are happening in her head right now. She's from the land of silver spoons and champagne toasts, a place where she was tucked away in a cozy elite bubble. But that bubble got a major pop yesterday. She watched her only buddy here, a fully grown dude, do something batshit insane and off-the-charts terrible to himself. Yeah, I'd say that shattered her little sheltered world.
Honestly, I don't think she's cut out for this rough and tumble stuff. I genuinely feel bad for her, and I'm secretly (or not-so-secretly) missing her snappy trash talk. It was like an unhealthy comfort food, you know? A little bit of snobbish bitchery would make the world feel kinda normal right about now.
And right at this very moment, as I'm treated to Ben's award-winning chicken impression, I've come to terms with the fact that this place and "normal" are no longer on speaking terms.
Jeff's been hitting me up with the eternal question, "Dude, what's the plan? Seriously, what's our fucking plan?" As if I'm holding the secret playbook of life at this point! I've just been feeding him the same line – we're in this, man, so we might as well roll with it. Clock's ticking, only 22 days left on this wild experiment ride. As I've said before... The cool thing about Jeff is he's like an emotional rock, like the one consistent Wi-Fi signal in this crazy place.
Sure, he's kinda running on fumes, and half the time I feel like I'm chatting up an old ashtray, but it's way better than dealing with Ben's bizarre tangents, Emily's silent statue routine, and now, believe it or not, even Lynette's joining the off-the-wall crew.
Lynette, bless her heart, is teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff. Her all-time favorite line seems to be, "I'm too old for this shit, man." She's been chanting this mantra since yesterday, and I've had to constantly remind her that she's only a few spins around the sun ahead of me.
I'm doing my best to be the voice of reason and soothe her stretched nerves, but she's in this strange mode now – like she's on airplane mode and can’t send or receive signals. I even threw in a question about whether the Formula 35C had triggered any kind of effects in her. According to her, nothing – unless you count the heartache of not being able to buzz her kids. It's kind of a silver lining that she's not experiencing any weird side effects. Maybe she's on the placebo train, who knows? But honestly, it's a bit of a buzzkill that she's started to put up these 'Fuck off' vibes.
Walter and Kyle are totally wrapped up in each other. All they go on about is whose team is gonna come out on top. Walter's putting on his holier-than-thou act, and Kyle's playing the devil's advocate. I haven't bothered joining their crazy back and forth – they've made it pretty clear that they're both cosmic elites and have zero interest in chatting with regular folks like us. Dear God, pardon the self-centered plea, but a little smiting wouldn't be the worst idea right now, right?
Seems like they're all gung-ho about being the poster children for opposite ends of the universe. Both of 'em are dead set that they've got the whole situation here under control. It's like a ping-pong match of doom and gloom – trading blows about the world's grand finale and all that fun stuff. Whack…
All things considered, it's a major downer in here, but I'm on high alert these days. It's a must, given the crazy amount of mental strain making the rounds, and those docs don't let us in on a damn thing...
Dr. Nelson, well, he's been wearing his worried face like a giant neon sign. It's clear as day he's catching heat from some higher-ups. No proof to back me up on this, but it's tough to believe these experiments are solely run by lab-coat types. There's got to be a big shot in the shadows pulling the strings, like a pharma giant or a loony billionaire. But what is the endgame here?
I really just don’t understand why the hell this whole thing is still rolling after Randy killed himself? I mean, they must've filled in Randy's wife about the gruesome details, right? She'd surely be raising hell to get some damn answers. But then again, it just hit me like a ton of bricks – we all scribbled our names on those pieces of paper that say we can't point fingers, even from the grave. Do you see the mess that’s building in my mind right now, Dr. Nelson?
Man, I'm hit with this gut-wrenching pang for Randy's kids. They're without their old man now. Who's gonna step in and fill
that void? It's a really sickening feeling in my gut. Dr. Nelson, I know you're reading this, so listen up – it’s high time you admit what’s really happening. Doing the right thing won't hurt, I promise! Give me the lowdown on what the fuck is going on here and if there's a way to put a stop to it.
Ben is quite obviously losing his mind, and we don’t have time to waste before he goes off the deep end. It's just a gut feeling I have and the fact that he’s clearly insane now.
Let's talk about that son-of-a-bitch Rudy. He's practically become one with that olive-green chair, and I'll be honest, he's creeping everyone out. Dr. Nelson, my sixth sense is screaming that he's preparing something seriously bad and dangerous. Like I said yesterday, his eyes seem glued to Emily, and it's starting to feel way more intense than it should be. Call me a pessimist, but I doubt he's just enjoying the scenery. It's like he's cooking some twisted scheme that might threaten her safety. Frankly, I believe it's high time you showed him the door, before things spiral out of control.
I'm here typing, and these vivid thoughts keep popping into my head—Rudy sneaking into Emily's room tonight to do some nighttime choking. And if not tonight, it's coming down the pipeline real soon. Dr. Nelson, you cannot allow that to happen.
You know, another depressing thing about this joint is the total lack of security INSIDE the dorms and community lounge. We've got all these nutcases exhibiting unpredictable behavior, and not a single security guard in sight to keep things from spiraling into chaos. After Randy's little meltdown yesterday, it's clear as day that any of these guys could flip in a heartbeat and turn the place into a murder scene. What's even more chilling is thinking those little black cameras? They might be here to merely record the carnage for the scientists to dissect later. Let me spell it out: those 2 idiot docs that stay overnight, won't lift a finger to stop it. Instead, they'll watch it go down, all in the name of "experimental data." Reality check—we're lab rats. They don't give two shits about us.
So, to cut through the bullshit, it boils down to one thing: we're fucked. So, if the fucking doctors and security detail they have protecting them can’t be bothered to protect us, then I'll shoulder the responsibility for all of us. In fact, I've got this crazy idea—I'm hauling a chair outside Emily's room every single night until we're rid of Rudy. If he dares to get close to her, I won't hesitate to take him down. It might not be the comfiest sleeping arrangement, but sacrifices have to be made. I'm not sure where this newfound courage is coming from, but hey, I'm going with the flow. This might just be the most gallant stint I've pulled off, especially for someone as annoying as Emily.
Whoa, hang on a sec. Feeling a bit woozy here. Need to take a breather, brb.
Just grabbed some water, and something is different. Everything is different.
I can't wrap my head around what's happening. All I did was start daydreaming about being Emily's knight in shining armor, and out of the blue, my body started tingling. Next thing I know, I'm hit with a wave of light headedness. And here I am, right now, feeling like my whole body's buzzing and my head's dissolving the hard numbness I usually feel within it. I swear, I've got goosebumps the size of mountains popping up on my arms as I type this. The room's turned up the brightness dial a few notches, and I'm seeing colors come alive like they’re sentient beings finally ready to communicate with me. I’m either tripping on some serious LSD or maybe I’m dreaming… I don’t know.
I was just hit with a sudden rush of memories in my mind, as clear as daylight and as vivid as if I was actually there. I was back to being 7 years old, seated on the sofa wearing superman pajamas, engrossed in Saturday morning cartoons. The aroma of eggs, bacon, and home fries being prepared by my mother fills the air, while my father works on the car outside. I could actually SMELL the food!
In the midst of this, I hear my mother's voice calling for my father, "John! Darling, come inside, breakfast is ready." She enters the living room, adorned in her lovely blue dress, her smile radiating warmth. During those times, she's not consumed by drinking or smoking, and her skin and hair exude a soft and smooth aura. She's truly beautiful. Her arms encircle me in a gentle hug, and a kiss graces the top of my head. I can sense her love covering me like a comforting blanket. Back then, I might not have fully comprehended its value, but in this moment, I truly do.
This memory remains vivid, revitalizing a dormant part of me—the innocent child with caring parents. The sensation is profound, awakening within me a sense of bliss and warmth that’s been missing for so long.
I need to get away from crazy Ben and lie down to mull this over. Later on tonight, after the lights go off, I need to station myself outside of Emily’s. Doing guard duty means I’ll have plenty of time to truly get a grip on these crazy new revelations.
I’m not exactly sure what Rudy is going to do if he sees me planted in front of Emily’s room, but there’s only one way to find out. I also don’t know if Emily isn't going to be freaked out that I’m out there, but something tells me, she’ll appreciate it.
We shall see.