Dallus’ Diary #
This entry tells us more about how Dallus ended up working with Skys, Strassman and Victor Carmine. Apparently, Skys did something to Dallus Lauren at the Skys & the Starjammers concert at the October Palace, convincing him to get involved with the Cult of MANTRA and ARC/HIVE, the company that would later carry out Operation Trinity.
We also learn more about his family: his wife Elena went into labour while they were fleeing with Ren from Novosovia, the location of the MANTRA cult. Their youngest daughter Lyra was born at ARC/HIVE and ends up dying in a car crash. Rebecca’s second Grumblr post from November 2036 mentions this happened a few years before and Dallus is still only half there. Since Ren is alive to activate EVE in 2037 according to the D8 log, the child who died had to have been Lyra.
The diary is from the 19th of January 2021.
About #
Dallus’ diary is a file found after the December 4th 2024 update, although its background briefly appeared when
the Grumblr file first opened, at the time displaying the text test in green.
The file is available in the FOR SOF folder, and was released without a password.
Gallery #
Transcription #
Diary Entry: January 19th, 2021
I have been advised by the psychiatrist to start keeping a journal, ostensibly to aid in processing the rather cataclysmic events of recent months. It appears that everyone around here keeps one, which makes me feel as though I’ve been thrust back into the agonizingly banal routine of high school.
Ren, ever the prodigious spirit, has already suggested the creation of a journal robot she whimsically calls D8, part of her RO8OT line. She envisions eight distinct AI helpers, each with specialized functions. The sheer inventiveness of her young mind is as endearing as it is impressive.
However, I supposed I can utilize this exercise for a dual purpose: to detail my analyses and track the progress of my work, and perhaps to untangle the Gordian knot of my psyche.
Despite her tender age, her creativity and zeal are palpable, and I find myself oscillating between immense pride and a profound sense of trepidation. It’s clear she aims to follow in my footsteps, and that thought alone fills me with a mélange of pride and a daunting responsibility.
The specter of loss looms large. So many comrades have fallen, their memories now lingering phantoms. Strassman, my steadfast colleague, was not spared. The loss of his child shortly after Ava’s death is a tragedy that defies even the most stoic rationalization. Angel is presumed dead, and Strassman’s reticent demeanor conceals a maelstrom of grief and anxiety that resonates deeply with my own.
The ordeal of escaping with Elena, and Ren, while Elena went into labor, tested our mettle in ways I could scarcely have anticipated. Yet, in the advanced medical sanctum of ARC/HIVE, Lyra was born. Fragile proof that life can persist even in the bleakest circumstances.
And then there’s Skys. That psychopathic megalomaniac whose delusions of grandeur led us down this path. And now, despite his comatose state, ARC/HIVE has brought his useless body back. For what purpose? It’s a macabre souvenir of madness, a chilling reminder of the depths to which we sank.
Operation Trinity, ARC/HIVE’s grand extraction schemes executed with clinical precision. They seized the chaos in Novosovia to extract the “Trinity”: myself, Strassman, and the body of Skys. Promises of protection and resources were dangled like carrots, and we were spirited away to this high-tech purgatory. Strassman and I were put to work immediately, our expertise now at the service of ARC/HIVE’s ambitions.
The separation from our families, the relentless pressure to produce results, it all weighs heavily. However, I can’t deny the miracle of this second chance, after everything we’ve endured and everything we’ve done. I must admit, New Elysium is a beautiful community, one I never imagined I could be a part of, even if I don’t get to enjoy it much. I have to be thankful for Arc/hive in the way they have looked after our survivors of the holy eastern war.
The SYNTH project is a Herculean undertaking. The notion of transferring human consciousness into synthetic vessels, creating Synthetic Neurological Transference Humans, is rife with potential and peril. The prospect of enhancing cognitive functions and transcending our physical limitations is intoxicating.
Yet, the ethical ramifications are labyrinthine. But I’m thankful, albeit slightly shaken, by Victor Carmine’s interest in my pitch. He was practically salivating.
The MOXY Pack, however, is a far more straightforward endeavor. Engineered to provide breathable air amidst our increasingly toxic environment, these devices represent the culmination of my life’s work. Post-war environmental degradation has reached apocalyptic levels, and the MOXY Packs are crucial for the continued well-being of humanity, particularly in developing nations where thousands perish daily.
The underlying science is both intricate and imperative, incorporating advanced filtration systems and sustainable air production methodologies. Most of the groundwork is complete, and with Victor’s seemingly inexhaustible financial resources, the MOXY Pack will soon transition from concept to reality.
Despite the intellectual fervor these projects incite, a pall of apprehension and dread lingers. The tenuous nature of our existence and the precariousness of our achievements are omnipresent. Rationality serves as my bulwark against these uncertainties, yet the emotional toll is inexorable. The loss of friends, the ever-present specter of danger, and the weight of responsibility bear down with relentless intensity.
Tomorrow, I shall enter the lab with renewed vigor, tempered by the indelible memories of those we have lost and the ever-looming specter of our collective anxieties. The path ahead is fraught with perils, yet the promise of groundbreaking discoveries propels me inexorably forward. For Elena, for Ren, for my precious baby Lyra, and for the prospective future of humanity, I must remain resolute.
I must admit, after this exercise, I feel an unexpected sense of relief. Perhaps the quack they have employed here at ARC/HIVE isn’t as dim as I discredited her for.
Dallus Lauren
Trancsription by Alec
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