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THE HAMMERHEAD HELICOPTER MURAL

 This building was used during the Period of Trepidation, a time characterized by the looming presence of the predicted Event. Under the direction of Admiral Castey this building was used while testing an experimental technique of aggressive interrogation known as "Demonstrative Psyche" (DS). DS was created by the Department of Defense and targeted people suspected to have knowledge of or roles in the Event.  Detainees would be subject to a series of debilitating drugs and after experiencing a state of comatose shock, would be given art utensils. In this catatonic state subjects would, in theory, draw out and express their thoughts visually. Though this experimental project was eventually canceled, some experts believe that some of the artwork clearly illustrates elements associated with "The Event". One example is the "Hammerhead Helicopter" mural painted on a wall of the Machine Shop.  Just weeks before the Event occurred there was an air-strike in Blunt. Although resulting in thousands of civilian deaths, this attack and the panic it broadcasted served as a cover for the greater attack now referred to as the Mizu Incursion. Ten days after the air-strike, western, coastal cities fell victim to an unknown biotic epidemic. This epidemic was organized to target the city's water sources through the utilization of white sharks. Over the course of several years these sharks were caught, collected and then coated in a mask of phencylidine chemical strains. These animals were then released along estuary close to the water treatment plants. Once in the water the chemical would slowly shed and filter into the treatment system. Due to the inability to treat or detect this masked chemical, the biological outbreak spread along the western coast from city to city.  As historians investigate the conditions of this facility, many conclude a connection between the detainee's illustrations and the attack preceding the Event.

 **LOG OF OFFICER RANDAL**

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I, Officer Randal oversaw the officers in training which oversaw the project. Due to lack of funding they received they received no skilled personnel, just men fresh out of training or studying for their specialty degree and working for the extra pay. Admiral Castey was the Department of Defense’s official granted with the task of organizing this experimental facility and its inter-working. I once heard him privately talking to his wife on the phone once; he had no faith in this venture and advocated its budget cuts from the beginning. The only one who thought it would work; the one who thought up this whole thing up was Doctor Schulken. He was a very eccentric man from my few interactions with him. His science was obscure, highly experimental, and what I now can recognize as revolutionary. The period before the Event was filled with junk science, ideas created from fear and disbelief of the upcoming unknown. All government money was shuttled to the Department of Defense and National Security and private corporations struggled to get their ideas recognized and potentially funded. Rumor had it that Schulken and the Chief of Finance had a more personal relationship and that’s the only reason he received funding. Regardless, the program became established very quickly. I was one of maybe twenty other workers who were assigned to this project. We stayed on sight day and night, living there for a period of thirty months, with all of our communications monitored. Its contents were deemed top secret, wholeheartedly confidential. They were supposed to be at least. While the predicted results were interpretive artistic renderings of a subjects mind, any information which this subject was withholding or foreknowledge they may possess. We were supposed to be sent subject whom were seen to be withholding vital information and proven to be doing so however the Department of Defense was aware enough to maintain a level of distrust for our science and decidedly we only received prisoners who were yet to be proven guilty. This practice always irked me. While evidence may have seemed overwhelmingly against these people more often than not it was highly circumstantial. In every case, nothing was proven. Time and time again I found myself psychologically and medically attacking these detainees, trying to pry out any information my superiors were convinced they possessed. It was my orders so I accommodated, always. My job was this: to administer drugs to these detainees and monitor their well-being. I had graduated from my specialty school, something which made me one of the most educated men on our base. My specialty was medicine, and for the purposes of my military scholarship, biological warfare. This topic was broadened to chemical, mental, and environmental principles of interrogation and other government tasks. My job was vital, and the most directly connected to the detainees. We began a new man every month, a final trial would last for two months. We had twenty-nine patients total, it took a month total to move in and then move out of our facility. On the first day of a prisoners were assessed for their stability, natural hormone levels were tested, and they were given one last unaltered interrogation. This was done for legal purposes, to ensure that there was no alternative means of obtaining this supposedly crucial information. Its really sick now to think about. Knowing that I directly created a trap to pin down any prisoner sent my way, any suspect hat was directed towards me and my department got mentally attacked. They would never be the same. And I did that to them. When I began i was 22, by the time I was 25. I am now 57. Half of my lifetime ago all of this occurred and I am still haunted. After examining their medical needs and recommended dosages we begin drugging them. The reactions to these treatments vary. There are plural, multiple treatments. But the main one in use was a high caliber, extremely direct mental inabilator. Its was the most effective and safest, comparatively speaking. If there was a moderate reason for the DOD to have invested interest in you, God forbid you had a negative reaction to the initial drug. =====

** LOG OF DETAINEE #47 **  The smell of vomit penetrated the cloth which I held tight over my mouth. I stumbled back and lowered my body against the wall, sliding it to the floor, squinting my eyes to avoid the ripples which my eyes were creating across the patterns, patterns of wall, ceiling, floor, I looked down, skin. My skin was ashy and slimy to my touch, my mouth felt dry and bitter. I was sick, so very sick. My stomach kept on finding things to bring back up. I had already stopped eating. My mind flickered from black and white to muted color. I could suddenly see things in vivid dark, shadows appearing from corners and growing to engulf a wall. The lack of dark became my vision, the outlines for which I interpreted my limited surroundings. I felt my body move so slowly, like time stopped just for the neurons of my muscles to connect with their receptors. That man-made concept that became my only variable, my only change or variation, stood on its toes, at the edge of its seat just for that synapse. I stared at the backs of my hands. I shift my weight to my knees, doubling over and then pressing my hands against the cold floor. I trace the outline of the floor of this room, this estate, this pristine compound to which I reside. I am waited on with a fleet of people looking after me, at me. I am fed and made drunk. Drunk with what; I can't pretend to imagine it. , I exist in a surreal world accessible only by me. No one can guess what is interacting in my mind. The thoughts that flutter and and conceive notions that bore themselves into my conscious, the unconscious, and the core of my being. Oh boy they will try. They will try like no other. They will lose sleep over my abstaining. Oh boy, they will tear themselves up, they will disappoint their employers. These coherent thoughts dance across my cerebral. I recognize them and I am angry. I am angry and shaking. I can feel it. Feeling my fear and my anxiety, the shortness of breath when I recognize the next step. I close my eyes and lay very still. I hear the metallic sound of a well oiled door swing lightly open. He wants to be quiet. Warm, outside and clean air, crisp against my skin. I am pulled over, every muscle in my body is tensed. My arms are between each other and my breath becomes stressed and tense. I squint. I identify with you, brother, acquaintance, coworker (pending?), or hell friend. Kin based on approximately 99.9% of you is me. Can you understand that? As I open my eyes to look at you can you see me pleading? I am trapped, I am vulnerable. Vulnerable in my abilities to recognize my surrounds. Vulnerable because of my awareness of what will happen next. My acute awareness for this approaching figures breath. He breaths through his mouth, because of my sick. He tightly holds my arm and pulls me toward him. Its probably my vanity but I like to think his discomfort about me makes him uncomfortable. I like to imagine that. I have power. I have power over this man. I smirked at this, maybe with my face, maybe just to myself as he dragged my arm out from under myself and smeared antiseptic over it. My last cry, I rolled my head to face my friend. The prick. He did the deed, but I expected no less. Now back into the depths of my psyche. No more vulnerability, no more victimization of my own condition. Back into the swimming clarity found in the back of my skull.