Project 43

This is the twenty third journal I’ve started recording in. It’s August which is probably one of the only months without some sort of holiday around war or some form of religion that I’ve seen anyone celebrate around here.

As usual I’m bored out of my mind and despite pleading and begging. I’m separated from the other teens on base. I’m what my parents refer to as “medically fragile” which works in their favor since they’ve been on base since my birth. So as a high-ranking officer and scientist, my mother and father have absolute last say on everything from the cable I watch to who I interact with.

Thankfully they’re fairly lenient on everything else even after my younger years repeating some of the curse words I had learned. I could have free reign of the internet, books, even alcohol. As far as actual news in the world there was nothing to really report. Another virus out, another mask mandate going around as far as the news is concerned. Half of what was once China is still a Nuclear waste land as well as parts of Russia and Eastern America, or so they say. For all we know it’s a cover for new bases or factories they’re keeping from the enemy.

My parents talk about it a lot, that the radiation problem has been tackled and now it’s a matter of tackling the next likely attack. Bio-engineered warfare.

Not that I’m helping that effort. My dad is probably one of the brightest minds and takes blood from me at least weekly. Sometimes a vial sometimes more. If he wasn’t constantly working on me as a side project, they’d probably be able to tackle the world’s problems. In a lot of ways, it made me realize over the years of nose bleeds and strange vision issues that he cared more than my mom did. She didn’t like interacting with me, it was obvious.

My assumption? Dear old mom was ashamed of her weak daughter. As an important high-ranking officer to produce such weak offspring. Unable to even look me in the eye.

Sometimes I wonder why they had me, I feel like such a burden all the time. I turn eighteen next month and even when I’m legal age to leave I’m still going to be here. It’s the safest place for me.

The thought makes me understand why bubble boy went on his adventure and risked death. Or Rapunzel let down her hair for a stranger. To be fair I had a lot more space than them since I was on several levels where only the high VIP head honchos could and not even those in their family had access it was so exclusive as there where doors to very restricted areas even I couldn’t go into. Since most of those guys where usually busy working but it was well funded, everything was well stocked and maintained from the massage chair to the outdoor simulation room that was complete with temperature, airflow, and smell.

I think the term online was "gilded cage" which certainly seemed to apply to my situation. I had my moments where I could pretend the world was fine. I was comfortable, well provided for- but I was trapped. Like an animal I found myself pacing more often than I liked, more often than not out the largest non-breakable window that faced a small section of the base, the only view of the outside. Not the ultra-high-definition wall screens that made it feel like you were outside- real true outside.

That's why I knew that my peers- the people once I once thought of as friends walked by this particular window. All fifteen of them. One by one they would walk in a line, unable to make eye contact or perhaps refusing to (perhaps it was even double-sided glass though I had been told the contrary by my father I still wasn't sure if I completely believed him). Each day, every day they would walk by this window every day between nine and ten as well as five and six (0900-1000 to 1700-1800 for those who read military time).

Janice was always first. Age Seventeen. Bad Acne. Five three. Brown hair. Liked Pokemon and had several pins reflecting this on her backpack until I assume dress code changed three years ago and they were no longer regulation. After her came Nick who had grown a foot over the last year, the bags under his eyes also seemed to have grown but the vast amounts of caffeine he consumed which I assumed was to stay up at night and game considering he always had some new console in his backpack side sleeve. Honest it probably didn’t help the fact we were all-

The hairs on my neck prickled, it wasn’t normal for anyone to be out ill without me noting symptoms prior. I realized not just Stephanie had been missing who was the fifth in line but so was the person that belonged on the end. Eleven in total today.

Four missing.

There was never four missing.