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What a horror show.
The second Grumblr post from Rebecca Sinclair. In this post, she speaks about working with Strassman and Dallus Lauren for the first time on the 5th of November 2036. She also has a quite unpleasant encounter with Skys, who is transferred into a synth body 16 years after falling into a coma during the final hours of the October massacre.
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This file was hidden behind a music notes puzzle, released on the 4th of December along with three other puzzles and lots of new content.
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Rebecca.Sinclair
New post! January 14th 2027
REBECCA ENTRY #
November 5, 2036
I don’t even know where to start. Today was my first day working with Dr. Strassman and Dr. Dallus Lauren on the SYNTH project, and it was… well, way beyond anything I’d imagined. They told me this was going to be huge, like life-changing science, but honestly, I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for what I saw today.
This morning I was thrown face first into the project. Despite a whole spectrum of misery churning inside me lately, I couldn’t help feeling a little… excited?
By all accounts, Dr. Karl Strassman is a revolutionary genius. And, like everyone else on the planet, I’ve known Dr. Dallus Lauren’s name since he saved a good chunk of people living on it with the MOXY PAK. The man’s like a living legend. It’s surreal working with him. With both of them.
But actually meeting Dallus… It’s like he’s barely holding it together. I knew about the car crash that had taken his daughter, but that was years ago, before I even started with Arc/Hive. Still, he looks like he’s only half there, his face is hollow, distant. He doesn’t make eye contact, barely even speaks.
He looks way older than he is, his movements are stiff, like some sad marionette being jerked around by an inattentive puppeteer. It’s strange, and kind of unsettling, to watch someone who saved so many people look like he’s struggling to save himself.
Strassman, on the other hand, isn’t exactly what I’d imagined, He’s all smiles and quirks, but there’s something undeniably off about him. His lab coat is a real state, his breath smells faintly of something stronger than coffee,- -and his eyes, well lets just say they have the sleep-deprived glint of someone who gets into philosophical debates with their equipment.
Nothing about this setup is protocol. Nothing about ths place follows any of the usual rules. First, they had me sign a “Confidentiality and Compliance Agreement” with my own blood. Yeah, like some Ecliptist ritual. I swear, the red alarms were already blaring in my mind. And then came the bombshell: Skys. He’s alive.
Yes, that Skys. The “Brain Butcher,” the infamous leaser of MANTRA. The man who terrorised the world by pushing people to transcendence through trauma, blood, and neural rewiring, People still talk about the horrors he inflicted like it was some nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.
They say he broke minds just to watch them unravel, that he turned people into experiments while they were still breathing, all in the name of “evolution.” Skys was the kind of legend people used to scare their kids at night, a boogeyman for the new age.
And now here he is, breathing (barely) in the same building. Strassman explained he’s been in a coma since the final hours of the October Massacre. He said there’s no way Skys is coming back “naturally,” that he’s suspended between life and death, like a ghost trapped between worlds.
My head was swimming as I tried to keep up, thoughts torn between ethical boundaries and this strange allure of a second chance. And the actual process. What a horror show. The way they stripped him down, like he wasn’t even human.
I had to stand there, keep it together, act like I was all in and didn’t feel like running for the door every five seconds. Watching them upload Skys’s mind into this exoskeleton felt like a scene from a Mindflix sci-fi. And then,- -when his consciousness actually woke up inside that metal skeleton and started begging for death? God, I’ll never get that sound out of my head.
It was his laughter. A distorted metallic sound at first, which then turned into a scream, a howl of raw agony. Then, the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl.
“Kill me,” he whispered, barely audible, like it was speaking from a void.
“Can you kill me? Please… I’m sorry… please.”
“I promise I’ll be good. Just… kill me.”
It was a voice of complete, unfiltered suffering.
Dallus just sank to the floor, his back against the wall. Strassman grabbed a nearby bench, shaking his head in shock. I couldn’t even move, I just watched, numb, like I’d walked into someone else’s nightmare.
When Skys’ cried died down, Strassman turned to Dallus, trying to rationalise, to make sense of the horror we’d all witnessed. He argued it wasn’t the procedure that caused this, it was Skys himself, his psyche shattered from years trapped in a coma, suspended in darkness.
Strassman was practically pleading with Dallus to see it as a side effect of “prolonged isolation,” a mind gone mad from too long in the void.
But Dallus wasn’t having it.
“Variables,” Dallus spat. He looked right at Strassman, his voice breaking as he shouted. “Let’s not sugarcoat it, these aren’t variables, they’re cataclysms. The brain isn’t some playground for us to experiment on. We’re treating it like some twisted game, and this… this is what we get.”
He paused, voice dropping to a whisper. “We’re playing god, Karl. And we’re losing.” The room fell silent. I don’t know how long we stood there, the three of us frozen in our own ways, trying to process the horror we’d just seen.
Eventually, I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, so I cleared my throat. They both turned to me,- -and before I even knew what I was saying, the words were out.
“I’ll do it.”
What in oblivion was I thinking?
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Transcription by Alec.
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