by Foster, Voss
I wish you the best of luck, dear sister,
Niels Evenstad
Chief Operating Officer, Evenstad Media
JOURNAL 08DESIREE
ENTRY 001
DATE: 1/4/2074
God, I can't stand it. No more of this dark. I feel like I'm half blind. The only time I feel remotely like myself is in the trailer. But that's not making anything any better. Believe me, God, I'm thankful that You've provided me with so much: shelter, food, water, blessed light. But I know that the endless dim is still out there waiting for me. And I'm not going to think about the things that could be in there. I'm not. I know You'll see me home safe, Lord. That's all I've got that keeps me going, and I thank You for that, too. And I thank You for the medallion You had them give to me. I know this ain't anything that a man could put here on Earth. You've given me the power to disappear. Only for a few seconds, but it has saved me. When I disappear, I know that nothing in that darkness can do anything to me.
I praise you, Lord.
Amen.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 07JULIA
ENTRY 001
DATE: 1/4/2074
When I woke up this morning, I was breathing, not screaming. It's good. The screaming was bad. I just knew that there was something coming. Then came the crying. I still did that this morning, but no screaming. I wasn't convinced that I would see someone looming over me. I wasn't convinced that I needed to clutch to the medallion, ready to release whatever was inside. That slicing thing.
I hope its progress. Maybe it would be years. Maybe it would just be until we died off. I have no family left to worry about, only a few friends who really matter. I could die here, as long as it was natural. But I won't be killed. I don't want death to hurt. I don't want to keep screaming.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 09TINA
ENTRY 001
DATE: 1/5/2074
I finally saw my first person. They were outside my window. I just caught a glimpse of them running past. Nothing else. But that means that there definitely are other people here. It's no longer a theory. Which means the danger is no longer a theory, either. I'm not the kind of person who gets paranoid and jumpy, but every little sound out there is definitely someone. That's what my brain keeps telling me, anyway. Even the sounds that I know and recognize must be someone.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 12DAVID
ENTRY 003
DATE: 1/5/2074
I've lost Nathan. I don't know what the issue was, but when I woke up this morning, he was gone and his window left open. The poor kid probably doesn't even know what's going on. I assume he read the letter, since it wasn't on his shirt when I found him. But I can't say that with any level of certainty.
I have to go look for him. I'm still determined to keep this kid safe, if I can. And right now I can. I hope I can, anyway.
ENTRY END
TO: Richard Appleby
FROM: Suzanne Young
SUBJECT: Welcome
SENT 10/23/2073 AT 9:17 a.m. EST
First of all, congratulations on your new position with Evenstad Media. I'm sure you will enjoy yourself.
Mr. Niels Evenstad, our COO, has asked me to remind you of the privacy policy attached to your position. You are to speak to no one of your work, as it could compromise the integrity of the project. The full privacy policy will be attached below to ensure you have a copy.
After your initial training, you will be sent to the undisclosed filming location. Room and board will be provided for the duration of your stay. Please make any and all necessary preparations between then and now, as the length of your stay is as yet undetermined. No Internet access will be provided while there, and only limited phone calls, monitored by the head of security.
As a special caveat of your particular position, your marksmanship will be tested monthly. Should you fall below the eighty-fifth percentile in accuracy, you will be granted a one month grace period. If, after that month, your marksmanship still ranks below the required accuracy, your employment will be terminated and you will have no chance for rehiring.
If you have any questions before you leave, please email the pertinent department. If you don't know which department to ask, send the email to me and I will forward it to the appropriate party. I will also attach a list of email addresses for your ease.
I hope you enjoy working for Evenstad Media as much as I have,
Suzanne Young
Administrative Assistant to Niels Evenstad
JOURNAL 10MANFRED
ENTRY 002
DATE: 1/5/2074
The alarm went off again today. I was close enough to the edge to watch. Whoever was approaching the wall was just a boy, and he ran as though something vile was after him. He seemed so desperate, I chose not to follow for fear of attracting his attacker. But now, how I wish I had followed. Perhaps I could have stopped him. Instead, I watched, waiting for whatever or whoever to strike. He ran, ignoring the final three blasts of the siren.
I heard the cocking of guns from above as he got closer.
I tried to shout a warning after him. He didn't hear me. A muzzle flare sparked at the top of the wall. I expected the boy to crumple at any moment, but instead, the bullet pounded into the ground. The boy himself was gone.
A few feet closer to the wall, he reappeared. Two more muzzle flashes. That time, he fell. I felt like the third shot was unnecessary, but it, too, hit its mark. Not a difficult shot. He couldn't move to avoid it.
ENTRY END
11
Supporting the Grim Reaper: The Reality Behind Evenstad Media's 'The Park.'
1/9/2074 at 7:26 a.m. EST
Twelve contestants locked in a trailer park and outfitted with strange technology. Only one can leave alive. It sound like something you'd hear in a preview before watching this summer's next explosive, blood and gore blockbuster. But it's not. It's currently the second highest rated show on television, and the numbers suggest that it could take the top spot by next week.
But, after last week's episode, can we, as a nation, continue to watch? Should we encourage a company who just broadcast the murder of a twenty-four year old kid into millions of American homes? This blogger thinks not. I, for one, am already looking into alternate television providers. I can hope that others will join me.
'The Park' is only going to continue taking lives if we allow it. That's the premise, isn't it? Eleven will die. And what of the twelfth, the single survivor? I'll eat my own cat if their 'winner' doesn't come out of this with severe psychological trauma, at the very least.
But what disturbs me most of all isn't even the fact that the show exists. We've always known that the bourgeoisie have depraved tastes. That should surprise no one. No, what disturbs me is how many people, how many members of the proletariat, have chosen to watch this. How many have chosen to buy extra products that Evenstad Media offers to enhance the experience for fans of their meat grinder. What does it say of us if we continue to watch this? With all of our technology, all of the great minds of the modern era, we find ourselves no better than the Romans, watching gleefully as victims are sent into the Colosseum for our pleasure.
I pray that my words won't fall on deaf ears. For my sake, for the sake of our country, but more than anything, for the sake of the eleven poor souls trapped in that hellish trailer park.
I don't know how they got these people to volunteer, or even if they did, but I will guarantee they weren't given much of a choice. Evenstad Media needs to be stopped dead, right now. And if we choose to, we can. We have the numbers. Rise up now, or fiddle as Rome burns.
Krax
JOURNAL 12DAVID
ENTRY 004
DATE: 1/7/2074
It's been two days since Nathan was shot. I wasn't sure if I would be able to go get him to bury him without being the next target, but I managed. Well, we managed. Manfred has been nothing but helpful this whole time. He's a sweet old man. Not
the sort of person that should be here. But then again, neither am I. At least I don't think I am.
I looked through Nathan's journals after we buried him. It was flick withdrawals. Poor kid. I can't even start to imagine what detoxing must feel like. He was going through it on top of being in this place. If I was ever going to use the word torture and really mean it, I think now would be the time. It must have been real, honest torture.
As for Manfred, he and I are getting along decently. He didn't know Nathan, but he said some beautiful words over his grave. "Death is not hard for the dead. It is only the living who suffer. And today, with the loss of this young soul, all our world will suffer."
I don’t know why it struck me so hard, but it did.
I tried to find his medallion, too, but it was missing. It was hard to see in the dark, though. I probably just missed it. I don't dare go back over there. I'm pretty certain that we were only granted that single bit of amnesty to move Nathan's body. Going back would probably get me shot, too.
Manfred and I will be staying in the house as much as possible. We both agree that it's for the best. But I'm still keeping my distance. I hate that I even have the thought, but it's possible that Manfred had a hand in Nathan's death. I wasn't there for it. I only came in on the end. And if he was willing to kill the kid, I hardly think his remorse would kick in over me.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 06RITA
ENTRY 002
DATE: 1/7/2074
Hello again, you lovely Evenstad Media people. How are the ratings on the new show? They should have gone up after that kid got shot, right? I admit, despite my intense belief that the wealthy have unlimited capacity for evil, I wasn't entirely sure you would go through and actually kill someone, if it came down to it. Kudos, I suppose. I have to admire your commitment to this project. But you've also confirmed to me that you are indeed horrible people. That kid wasn't even thirty, and you just shot him down dead.
But I guess it's all about horrible people for you. That's what this show will make us all into, by the end. Horrible murderous people, or the victims of horrible murderous people.
And, if you ever wanted a review in writing, I'll be nice: your little medallion energy things are wonderful. I managed to filch the kid's medallion when those two guys weren't paying attention. It seems like it might come in pretty handy.
Here I am, playing into your hands, stealing from the dead to get ahead in your twisted little competition. I just hope you got that on footage. Lord only knows what that could do to your ratings. Juicy shit, there. You're welcome.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 04JUSTICE
ENTRY 002
DATE: 1/7/2074
I'm fucking tired of being all alone. So I'm out. I'm looking around for someone. I know it's a God damn idiot move, but they can't all be ready to gut me. Even I don't believe that shit. People are generally good, in spite of what it looks like ninety percent of the time. Probably the only time I'll ever admit to it, and no one's going to be seeing it. That doesn't mean I'm not ready to defend myself, though. My fire medallion thing may be useless as long as I have shelter and electricity, but I can sure as hell use it to put some fear in anyone who tries to mess with me. Not what I necessarily want to do. I mean, I'd be pretty fucking happy if I didn't have to touch the thing the whole rest of the time I'm here. But I doubt any of us will get that lucky.
ENTRY END
Famous Blogger Krax Dead
1/11/2074 at 8:18 a.m. EST
Famous journalist, blogger, and internet personality Leah Redmann, better known by the pseudonym Krax, was found dead on the Cynwyd Heritage Trail in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania early this morning. Family and local law enforcement are declining comment. We will update this article as more information is made available to us here at The Cruise.
UPDATE: 1/11/2074 2:22 p.m. EST: Police have released a statement claiming a drug overdose as the cause of death.
UPDATE: 1/11/2074 9:06 p.m. EST: Inside sources reveal that Mrs. Redmann did have a prescription for hydrocodone/APAP (Vicodin). Our source tells us that all of the bottles found in Mrs. Redmann's home were empty.
JOURNAL 09TINA
ENTRY 002
DATE: 1/8/2074
This paranoia is getting the better of me. I had to trek all the way across the trailer park today. I got scared of some sound outside the window. It was probably just a tree or a bush scratching or the walls settling. But I heard it and I freaked and aimed the medallion. So no more wall and no more privacy. It was so loud, my ears rang for a good two hours after the blast. I don't really know what it is this thing does, but I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. Got to make sure I don't lose it.
I wish they would turn on some lights. That's all I really need is light. But it's also really the last thing I need. It's enough that I have the lights on in this house. Light is too noticeable to get too attached to it. I hate it, but it's true. If someone finds me, I'd rather they be just as blind as I am. It'll give me a chance to escape.
I'm wondering how big this whole place is, too. I went quite a ways and didn't see another single person. The twelve of us could go a long time and never see each other. I just hope it works out that way.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 10MANFRED
ENTRY 003
DATE: 1/9/2074
I can tell that David is not fully comfortable with me. I cannot blame him for feeling that way. It is the nature of the situation in which we have been inserted. But to his credit, he has done a wonderful job of making me feel as welcome with him as he can, under the circumstances. We talk, and I feel myself falling into a sense of security. I feel as though he would protect me, and I believe that I would do the same for him, as best I could. Perhaps I am wrong and he only wishes to gain my trust so I do not see his attack coming. I can't worry about those things, now. It would be pointless to focus on such negativity. What I know is that I have someone to share a meal with when we are hungry, and someone to share words with.
We talk about many things. He is a schoolteacher. Grammar school. He is divorced with no children. We do not delve deep into the subject of our lives. I think it is too painful to go into the true joys and the true sorrows, the things that one or both of us shall never know again. So we touch only the very surface. I am content with having things this way.
The two of us have finally broken down. He, like I, had refused to use the strange medallions, even for the purposes of experimentation. But we both agree that we can't afford not to know any longer, with things as they are.
When David pressed his button, the medallion released a gas. I have never been attacked with pepper spray, but I imagine it would be something similar. The burn lasted in my lungs for at least an hour after he used it. My eyes watered, and I failed to choke back vomit.
As for my own, it proved somewhat less subtle. Like lightning, directed forward. The trailer I aimed at is still smoldering, some hours later. I do not like possessing such power, but I will not turn it down. It is too useful for that. I will simply pray that I never need that usefulness.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 03BLAKE
ENTRY 002
DATE: 1/9/2074
So far, everything's cool. I mean, okay, it's not, because this is all fucked up, but it's cool for being as fucked up as it is. I mean, I know this is totally stupid, and I wouldn't write it if I thought anyone but me would see this journal, but it's kind of exciting. It's like a video game, sort of. They even put powerups around the trailer park, apparently. Not that I've found any, yet, but that's what our letter told us. It's a good thing, because I don't know how useful just mine is going to be. It's better than nothing, but all it does is shoot out a spray of these little energy ball things. Kind of like a shotgun. And it takes probably ten seconds to fully recharge. Those little balls leave decent dents in the ground, but I don't know what it would do to a person.
God, I sound, like, sadistic or sociopathic or some shit. I don't wan
t to hurt anyone. That's not what it's about. But I might have to. If I do, I want to make sure that I hurt them well enough that they don't hurt me back.
When I was a kid, I always kind of liked the idea of living in a video game. Who didn't think about it at some point, really? But it's not like I thought it would be. No one gave me any rules for this game. And it's not fun. It sucks ass.
ENTRY END
JOURNAL 08DESIREE
ENTRY 002
DATE: 1/9/2074
God, You in all Your wisdom have given me another gift. When I went to the windows to look at what was causing that noise, I was using the medallion to make myself invisible, in case anyone wanted to hurt me. And something told me that I should let it go and reveal myself.
Well, when I did, I found him. You sent me a companion to make my time here less lonely. A handsome young man named Justice. He was getting just as lonely as I was, and You made sure that we found each other.
