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The Park

Page 12

by Voss Foster

to you? Really talk to you? Even if this whole thing's getting a little bit one-sided, now. I don't mind it too much. It gives me something to do when I get bored. Blake's useful, but damn it if he isn't horribly dull company. How many hours a day can two people spend talking about video games? As far as that horndog Blake is concerned, several. Many. A lot. I wish you could understand. Of course, you probably do understand. Watching the camera feeds to see what your little pet gerbils are up to, you've probably got triplicate records of everything any of us have ever said.

  You probably even know how I feel about Blake. You probably know that I don't like it. If not, I'm telling you now: that's why I sleep so badly. That's why I'm waking up so many times. Every single time. I don't like what I'm doing to him. It makes me want to puke, thinking about it. Every time.

  See, you did this to me. You people and this ridiculous game of yours. Killing people. Afraid for your life. Lying, cheating, armed to the teeth like some guerilla fighter with weapons that probably shred the Geneva Conventions to bits. Tiny ass bits. Did you consider that? Did you think about any of this, putting weapons like this in the hands of any John Q. Sample? Sure, you probably did. But I bet you didn't care, did you? I don't think you care about any of this. It's just part of your show, a big increase in ratings, a big increase in profits, a big fat nothing as far as we're concerned. I mean, how much money are we bringing in for you dickweeds, if you can afford to chuck twenty million dollars out for the grand prize? A shit ton, right? And here we are, just playing along. What happens if the show starts to get slow? Do you start fucking with us? Trying to get those ratings to jump up? Or do you just leave us to ourselves and pray that the viewers will keep on watching, even if it's dull as shit?

  Come on. Let's get started. I'm tired of not hearing back from you. It's pretty God damn rude for you to just leave me talking to myself like this. It's been over two months now.

   

  ENTRY END

  UNREST IN EGYPT

  3/7/2074 at 10:19 a.m. EST

   

  While tensions in Egypt have been on the rise, the bubble has finally popped. A group calling themselves the Egyptian Restoration Movement attacked the Egyptian Museum in Cairo yesterday. While no artifacts were stolen, several antiquities were destroyed or damaged before the terrorists could be forced out.

  In the wake of this museum attack, several other national fixtures have increased security. However, several attacks were made on the Heliopolis Palace, the current residency of the Egyptian president. We will update this article as more information is made available to us here at The Cruise.

  JOURNAL 11SUSAN

  ENTRY 007

  DATE: 3/10/2074

   

  Plans changing. Leaving traps. Won't go far. Can still catch people. Take out the biggest threats. People who will actively go after me. Leave the lights on in the house, make it obvious. People that stupid should die anyway.

  Medallion I filched off Tina will keep me safe. I can travel. Start playing. Want to get this over with. Twenty million won't do me any good if I'm halfway dead when I leave. All go to medical bills. A little over two months.

  Won't get Craig. He's too smart for that. Why I tried to keep him around. Close, he could die quick. Now I have to hunt or hope that someone else gets him done with. Save me trouble ferreting him out.

  I'll be fine. Medallion's too strong for anyone to survive the hit. Just can't miss. Missing would be bad. Can't run for shit. So I can't miss.

   

  ENTRY END

  JOURNAL 07JULIA

  ENTRY 005

  DATE: 3/13/2074

   

  It's time for things to change. I'm going to wear my medallion again. I just can't keep ignoring reality like this. It's not healthy and it's not working.

  And, as much as I don't like it, without this game, I would never have found Christina. I'm not going to think too much about the ramifications of all this. I know that accepting the game means that I have to accept that one or both of us is going to die, but who knows how long it could be before that happens. Christina won't kill me, I know that. If it's the two of us, maybe we can just go until old age. Maybe we'll sit around long enough that no one cares anymore. If there's no more excitement left in a TV show, it gets cancelled, right?

  I'm pretending to be happy to impress… who? Myself? I hate this whole thing, and I doubt I'll be the one who makes it to the end. I'm not a fighter. I'm definitely the wrong person for this game. I know that, Christina knows it, the people who put this whole thing together know it, I'm sure. I'm a line cook, not one of those extremophiles, getting off on the adrenaline of life. Every time I think about what's going on around me, I just want to hide up in bed and rot away. It'd be easier.

  But I won't. I'm getting into this. I have to. For myself and for Christina. I'm dead weight for her. She's still playing the game, after all. If she wastes her time and energy trying to protect both of us, that's not doing either one of us a favor. And I'd rather realize my own stupidity now rather than when I get killed, or when I have to clean Christina's blood off the carpet.

  But not today. Tomorrow. I want one more day to try and ignore this all. Hamburgers for dinner.

   

  ENTRY END

  THE PARK: WHAT ARE WE WATCHING?

  3/11/2074 at 2:08 a.m. EST

   

  Everyone's heard of it by now. It's controversial. People love controversy, after all. Just eat it up. And what could be more controversial than organized murder for entertainment? Just about nothing I could think of.

  Well, it's all fake. I'd put money on it. People are stupid enough to believe that this is all real? I wish I could say that I'm surprised. But nope. I gave up on my hopes for the intelligence of the human race years ago.

  But today, I'm here to tell you that it's all fake. Fiction. Entertaining fiction, but fiction nonetheless. Aside from the big, glaring fact that it's completely immoral and illegal to do what they claim to be doing, let's look at the cast. A diverse enough spread to appeal to everyone. Six men, six women, different socioeconomic levels, some racial diversity, and even a Brit. Almost like it was planned.

  Sure, they could have put the 'contestants' together to get all of that. But now we have the lesbian angle getting stronger and stronger in every episode. Christina and Julia's relationship is increasingly prominent.

  See, the American public will eat up anything with lesbians. With pretty lesbians, anyway. If they were real butch, I wouldn't even bring it up. But Julia and Christina are both attractive women.

  But it's not even that. All that does is add more evidence to the pile. Here's the real kicker for the lesbian=fiction argument: where are the gay dudes? Not a one in sight. They managed two lesbians in their 'random' selection, but no gays? Know why? Gays don't sell nearly as well. Gays are generally much less popular. It's just a fact, not my personal feelings on the matter.

  You would think, all things being equal, there might be some gay guys running around here, too. Sure, maybe there are and we just aren't privy to the information. I'm not claiming that I have a watertight case for this whole thing. I don't. But I highly doubt we're watching a true reality show with random Joe and Jill Schmoes. I just doubt it. It doesn't make it any less entertaining, though.

   

  Nancy Fitch

  JOURNAL 05CRAIG

  ENTRY 006

  DATE: 3/13/2074

   

  I found something. It might work. There was a CESU hidden under a bush, like, tucked into the bark and the roots. It's not all that strong, but that's perfect. I never wanted something strong. Maybe stronger than this, but I'm hardly going to complain. I got so excited, I had to go get mine and start working on it. Which was probably really god damn stupid, but I did it anyway. I didn't set it off doing that, and I actually made some progress. Enough progress to make me hopeful. The casing on the back of the other CESU is warped. The one I found lets out a beam. Like a low-intensity laser. Way b
etter than a laser pointer but not so strong it can burn through steel and shit. And it's small enough to give me some precision. I can only work in five or six second bursts before it gives up and has to recharge, but that's fine. It recharges quickly anyway. I think I can get through the casing soon. That's why I stopped. I'm going to sleep, see if that helps. Using lasers when you're drowsy just sounds like a bad idea to me, no matter how weak they are.

  But if this works, I can make a much more reliable alarm system. I could hardwire it together with some of the lines from inside the trailers. Wouldn't have to worry about the tripwire not working. I might even be able to lead people off, if I set it up right. And if I can modify this one, I can modify others. Hopefully. I'm actually beginning to think I could make it through this. I'd still rather not kill anyone. I'd rather run. But I have to be ready for that, if it comes down to it, unfortunately. And I think this new CESU is going to really help me with that.

  I think the most important thing is that I finally feel some kind of comfort. Pretty soon, I'll have wires and circuit boards and resistors to work with. Things I know about. Things I can control. Things I'm used to from my normal life.

   

  ENTRY END

  JOURNAL 02CHRISTINA

  ENTRY 006

  DATE: 3/14/2074

   

  Julia's finally asleep. I had to sit with her today. She looked terrible when she came out. It was weird enough that she slept later than me to begin with. She was shivering when I saw her. And she had a medallion around her neck. I didn't

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