Notes Of A Dead Man Sequel (Notes - #3), Clive Cooper [free ebook novel .txt] 📗

sometimes I get lost in my memories. Things get confused. But, the long and simple of it is this: We used the Factory. It always seemed to have more empty rooms to store things in. Back then, that was the word for them, things. No Skips then, no. We thought we had the Factory tamed. That's one of the reasons I refuse to quit this job. If there's anything I can do here, it's remind people that we will NEVER tame these things. Contain them, yes, but as we saw with Able, tame them? Never.

 

After a decade or so, we were pretty organized. The 13 original of us were being called by numbers, not names. We knew how to make things work. And, if a thing or two vanished inside of the Factory, still? And the occasional D-class? What? Yes, we had D-class back then. Disposables. That's where the D comes from. Had to have someone to test things on, Tesla and Tamlin were both very firm about that. But, yes, sometimes we lost people who didn't matter. Adam… sorry, Dr. Bright, was fond of saying it was the Factory taking its toll. You can't get something for nothing.

 

1911 was when it all went wrong. Things… we called them faeries. An entire race of things, living beside us. They could look the same as you or I. The only obvious difference was an allergy to Iron. Yes, that's why we called them faeries. No, you haven't heard of them. Why? Because it's the one time the Foundation wiped out an entire race of things. Root and branch. And I'm the one who did it.

 

We'd been hunting them for some time. We'd run into them a time or two before, come out on top. So, when a certain royal asked us for help, of course we were eager to get them in our debt. We've always loved having people in our debt. We sent a team to help out, take care of what we thought was a hunting party. The next time we saw them, their heads were on poles, attached to the saddles of the creatures the Faeries rode, when they attacked the Factory.

It was horrible.

 

Three words, but they convey so much. I have never… I'm sorry, please, give me a moment. I've never told this part to anyone. You should consider yourself lucky. And, if you ever tell anyone any of what I am about to impart on you, I will not just kill you, but everyone who shares your DNA, in the worst ways possible. You'll think Procedure 110-Montauk is a walk in the park compared to what I do to you.

 

We lost. The things came, and they destroyed us. Rode over our emplacements, slaughtered our people, shrugged off our weapons like they were nothing. I watched my thirteen go down, left and right, just trying to hold the Factory. And I? I, their leader, their friend, their father figure? Godfather to the Bright's four young children. Confidant, sometimes lover, always the confessor? I ran. I ran like a scared little school boy, deep into the dark guts of the Factory. I was chased by the things, always just one step ahead. I could hear them behind me, feel their breath upon my neck, and …

 

I came to a door I'd never seen before. A bronze door, covered in Arabic script of some sort. I've never been one for languages, especially not the curvy bullshit the musselmen use. But I didn't care. They were coming for me, and I threw the door open and dived through it. Everything inside… was different. There was a feeling of peace, that nothing could hurt me here. The light was this dark red, but still felt right. My ears were filled with the steady thrumming of a gigantic heartbeat. And, in front of me, were the remains of Anderson. It spoke to me then, but I'll be damned if I could tell you exactly what it said. What it told me was more meaning, than exact. It offered me hope. It told me… it told me that each of the things we had used from the Factory, no matter what we did with them, fed it. Helped it grow. But, if the Faeries took the Factory, they would destroy it, and we couldn't have that. It offered me… a deal. It could remove this event. Make it have never happened. All I needed to give it was… us.

 

I didn't want to. I knew it was a bad idea. But then, I saw them again, my family, my friends, dead. Dead by the hands of those bastards… I agreed. It smiled. And I found myself once more upon the ramparts, watching the horde of Faeries crest the hill. My Foundation alive once more. In my hands was a weapon. I won't bore you with the details, but we slaughtered them. And, with these new weapons, continued to slaughter them, everywhere they lived, everywhere they bred. My fellow O5s questioned my decision, thinking we should save some, in case we might ever need them… I overruled them.

 

We moved away from the Factory. Shut it down. Moved our things out of there. We changed the name from things to Special Containment Protocols, focusing on containing them, not… anything else. The others were curious, but understood I had my reasons. I boarded up the Factory. Locked it shut. Buried it under a ton of rubble, saying it was too dangerous. I thought… thought I'd gotten away with it. Until I found a thing on my desk. One of the old toy guns that shot real bullets. And it had the Factory label on it.

 

… I've sent people in, from time to time, to see what it might be doing. Last time I sent people in to look, there was nothing there. We keep finding Factory items out there. I can't help but think of how many more we don't find. The people who use them, and keep it hidden. I think back to the body telling me how each item used gave energy to the Factory. I never asked it 'energy for what?' I don't think I want to know.

 

What do we give it? D-class, mostly. Where DID you think all those bodies went? There's a place. Bodies are left, and they vanish. Everyone thinks I'm a genius for figuring it out. Sometimes… sometimes I have to feed it other things. Researchers. Agents. They never know it's coming. It just reaches out and takes them.

 

But, in the end, we're doing more good by being here. Whatever the Factory wants, whatever it IS… We're doing good here. I have to believe that.

 

And now you know. Are you happy? I didn't think so. Why tell you? I'm getting old, Everett. Should I die, someone will have to keep feeding it. Maybe you'll be different. Maybe you'll figure out how to stand up to it.

… But I doubt it.

Tip

 One Tip, don't try to feed all people with one bread... feed few... at least if we do something let's be in a good quality.

Talking With Girls and Women

 I am not going to talk about them here... sorry for ruining the whole fun and your interest... but at least hear my message.

 

Isn't it awful that in one day you gonna find out that... you are going to be a subject of study?

I won't lie... but I like to study people, going outside late nights, when everything is calm... still there

are 50-50 chance something to happen to me... If I am going outside at time like

9 or 10 Pm... I am talking about the night...

 

 

....

The problem is that I don't feel very comfy when outside there is light... when outside is so shiny... I like darkness... I like more the nights than the mornings. Does this mean that I am a serial killer!?

..

I hope not!

 

But still it doesn't mean anything... and it doesn't explain and little a bit about...

 

"How should I deal with girls?"

"What's the first move?"

"Do I need a screenplay?"

 

- If I need a screen play... who is going to give it to me and to read it at least tweny or 100 times or 250 times... and

to start acting as the line follow... why in talking with girls and women there isn't some kinda  screenplay?

 

 

(P.S. - Laughing is a good thing... but keep laughing that i have problems... for you it's hell of a lot of fun, right?)

 

The truth is that I am not going to be here forever and ever... I should do few moves but the question is from where do I start?

 

...

I should start studying facial movent... I don't know as for now the word for this type of stuff...

but still I have learn few there tricks and few there...

To be honest... the truth is that they don't help... there are just theories nothing else... that 

....

 

For example

 

 

....

 

 

Dr. Mann's Proposal

 

One portion of SCP-001.

 

 

Item #: SCP-001

 

Object Class: Embla

 

Containment Procedures: SCP-001 is contained on the grounds of Site 0, in upstate [REDACTED]. A fence has been constructed around the perimeter of SCP-001's observed effects. In addition to Site 0's security, no fewer than five armed guards are to be present at all times to prevent unauthorized entry. The adjoining physics laboratory will be manned at all hours, studying any anomalies.

A small metal plaque bearing an inscription will be maintained in good condition. Any damage is to be immediately reported to maintenance.

 

Description: SCP-001 is a circular gravel path in a wooded area. When traveled in a counter-clockwise direction, the