By Han A. Odasaku
Tap tap tap… The sound of a large nail-like thing tapping on wood filled the air. I held my breath, and the air around me felt suffocating. A loud, audible creak came from above me. Even knowing that nothing could see me, I still held my breath, unable to inhale or exhale.
I was still, as if I had died. Yet, I was alive, and as the sounds ceased, the noise of the large thing settling just above me made me relax ever so slightly. I am Nobody, simply walking around. I wondered if something could see through me, just as people see past each other.
This suit, though, is far better at hiding me than any person could ever be at hiding themselves. If I focus on staying still, it helps me relax, whether I should be able to or not. It's got some built-in neurological reading tech or something.
Basically, if I want it to record my thoughts, it will. It's trippy, and I think it'll take time to get used to. The suit feels more like me than I do at this point. Not that it matters much. It told me to document dates and events to stave off insanity.
Outside, the sky was littered with white dots, like paint flicked across a black canvas. I heard the light growling as the creature above me inhaled and exhaled. Another one was outside the front door, seemingly tired.
It hasn't been long since I escaped. We uncovered a massive underground agency dabbling in everything from the occult to the supernatural. It was like Pandora's box. The moment we broke in, all the world's hells were unleashed. Creatures from an unfathomable world rampaged; it was as if they were waiting for us. Thousands of us—military, police—were there.
When we blew open the entrance, we faced a monster. Calling it a monster isn't quite right; it was more like a god. With one hand, it brushed us aside, wiping out thousands before losing interest. Our commanding officer ordered us to breach without hesitation. As we burst through, more creatures from folklore appeared. I heard names shouted by other officers:
"IT'S A DJINN!"
"IT'S Jorōgumo…" The voice cut off before finishing.
The hallway became a slaughterhouse, filled with countless screams.
I ran into a nearby room. The bright fluorescent light blinded me. In the center hung a suit. It called to me—not a voice, but a sensation, an instinct. I approached, looking for how to put it on.
"Just get close," it seemed to say.
I stepped toward the back of it, and it absorbed me. I became one with the suit. Then I passed out. When I woke, I was here, sitting for countless days, minutes, seconds—each one counted over and over. I hear them breathing, these temporal creatures that, I'm told, eat humans.
Morning came, and the two things left. I was alone in the building. I got up and went outside. The suit says nothing can see me, like I'm the Invisible Man—a ghost, a memory of a man. I could deactivate it, but why? I'd be killed instantly by the countless things out there. From now on, I'll document each entry. God. Fucking. Damn. It. What has the world come to?
12/12/06
It's been a day since I got up, and it's starting to snow. The suit's mask says the air is contaminated with a micro-body. Can't even trust the air, haha. I look down at bodies covering the ground, their veins dark, like late-stage rigor mortis. My eyes feel itchy, probably a habit rather than a real need to scratch.
I saw dozens of people, not dead, sitting around a campfire. Thick black veins spread across their bodies, like they were frozen. The only sign of life was the white mist of their breath. I wondered if removing the suit could help them. I reached for my helmet, found a button at the back, but before I could press it, my muscles froze. Not hesitation—an instinct stopped me. After countless minutes, I gave up, watching as they coughed up thick black liquid, and the mist stopped.
A police officer, a detective, supposed to serve and protect. What a joke. I stood there, then kept walking toward the city. Bodies littered the roads—some reduced to puddles of blood, others with intestines spilling out. I tried closing my eyes but bumped into a light post and had to open them. Avoiding the corpses was like trying not to see a plant in a forest. I gagged, wanted to vomit, wanted to be blind.
15/12/06
Three days since my last entry. I couldn't stay there. It's been snowing for three days. I don't feel cold; this suit's like the perfect warmer, haha. I figured out voice recording, so now I can speak and think without walking in silence.
I don't know where this thing gets power, but I'm lucky it hasn't run out. Maybe solar? I heard that's the future from some sleazy salesman. I doubt it was made by that agency; it seems to oppose their purpose.
I found a chip on someone wearing a suit with their logo. I've been searching for a reader for hours. Those people didn't care if anyone survived. I'm trying to figure out what happened, how they gathered these creatures, and why.
I record this to listen back; silence makes me feel like I'm losing it. Haven't seen anything in days. Good news: the suit says the air's free of those microorganisms from the city. I'll take my helmet off soon, first time in almost a week.
Update (still 15/12/06): The suit has a chip reader. I'll play it before bed. Haven't eaten or drunk in five days; my throat feels like a desert. The snow's four inches thick, making walking harder, but I'll manage.
16/12/06 (Mind Record)
I'm going crazy. I hear sounds behind me, but nothing's there when I turn. Maybe I'm tired, need fresh air.
Fuck… just as I was about to take off this helmet, another thing appeared. Renaissance-style statues with weeping eyes, like my grandmother's angel paintings that seemed to watch me. I kept my eyes on them. The closer I got, the more pronounced their features. At first, they looked sad; now they're grinning, leaking bubbling blue liquid.
My instincts scream to keep watching. At the center stood a tall statue of a woman, her face split by a sword—one side cracked with tears, the other smiling softly. I felt watched, despite knowing nothing should see me. I backed away, never breaking eye contact. They didn't move, only the crying suggesting they were more than statues. The trees shifted; everything else—wind, animals, water—stopped. Just me and the female statue.
I walked backward for who knows how long. That's all for now. I need to get far from these things.
Update: A bird's following me, I think. I hear it caw every five minutes, going my way. The suit says nothing's watching, but maybe I'm paranoid. Sleep deprivation, maybe.
17/12/06 (Mind Record)
Heard something behind me, but as long as it can't see me, I should be fine. I feel like a vagabond, wandering with no plan. Recording this for no one. I'm a parasite living off this suit, like always. Maybe I'll check if anyone's left in the capital.
I played the chip while walking:
"Name: Ray Chaifetz, Senior Investigator. Code 5201987.
This is my report on Dimensional Abnormality 951990. Type: Humanoid. It can alter and shift reality at will. Currently sedated. It's a young man, five foot six, average features. Called himself Maxwell Braden, claimed to be a god. No substantial evidence beyond reality-bending powers. Suggest containing Anomalous Humanoid 951990 in a cell. It shows little resistance to humans unless taunted or agitated.
Suggestion for Designation: Apollo."
The suit says this thing broke the site's entrance, likely agitated. There are classified files on the disk; it'll take time to unlock. Tonight, I'll take off this helmet for fresh air.
Update (Recording): Saw someone with a gas mask and rifle, couldn't tell their gender. Chased them for three minutes but gave up. I'll sleep in a five-star hotel—only chance I'll get on a detective's salary. Update when I arrive.
Missing File… Attempting Recovery… File corrupted/deleted/Redacted (Manual Override)
Update: Something happened between recording and finding a hotel. The suit said, "Host lost consciousness, autopilot to last mentioned objective." Don't know what caused it; the suit's not saying. I'm in a room—not five-star, but it'll do. I just want to sleep.
23/12/06
The past six days have been a shit show. Good news: the suit cracked those disk files. Bad news: creatures are everywhere, possibly reproducing. It played something relevant:
Name: Robert Howard, Senior Investigator 3111982.
Reporting on Temporal Anomaly 5281976. Type: Animalia. They have a hive mind, each believing they're Liam Christopher, an NYPD detective. They're Doberman-sized, covered in thick scales. Only 50-caliber rounds penetrate. They reproduce rapidly in unpopulated areas, but the mere presence of a human causes this reproduction to stop. They sense humans and humanoids through structures. Recommend a guard outside their cell. They're herbivores but aggressive within a 10-meter radius.
Suggestion for Designation: Inferno.
The suit says Inferno means neutralize or exterminate.
I have a headache, probably from lack of sleep. The suit meets my needs, so I don't need food, water, or sleep, but I still want to eat. Found sealed water and canned chili in the hotel pantry—tasted like Gordon Ramsay made it.
I hear clicking. The suit says nothing's wrong, but it feels like something's eating into my head. No reason to doubt the suit now.
Update: I blacked out. Found a spear during that time. Don't know what it is or why I have it. The clicking stopped, but the spear feels warm, emitting something. I feel sick. The suit's voice changed to a feminine whisper, less robotic. It's telling me to go somewhere with the spear, a 40-day journey. Sounds insane, but I trust it. Nothing else to do.
Update: Lying here, the stars are beautiful, so separate from the world. I wonder if some faraway being is staring back. Stars are just energy, but I feel they're more.
24/12/06
Christmas Eve. No one to celebrate with, like always. When I was younger, my dad died in an accident, drunk after a promotion. A truck hit him, killed him instantly. He was a mess; Mom left because of it. I lived with my uncle, kind but out of touch with Mom. He gave me novels, let me watch movies.
The suit predicts snow. Its voice switched back but still urges me to the same destination. I'm in Venice; the hotels are top-notch. Gotta appreciate the small things, or why go on?
Made it to Palazzo Veneziano, a four-star hotel, free. I'm exhausted. Haven't seen a living person in a while—sad thought. No bodies here; these things seem respectful. I'll nap, leaving the spear in the room.
Update: Woke up; it's afternoon, and it's snowing. Played in the snow like a kid, making snow angels. Took off my helmet—an astronaut at the world's end. I wasn't afraid. The world felt blank, like I was the only one who ever existed. Had my fun; time to walk.
25/12/06
Unknown Error Attempting Retrieval of File.
26/12/06
Another error. Passed out from the 25th to today. Made it to the border—should've taken days. Won't complain. The suit's vague about why I'm going there, giving minimal info.
"People are just awful…" That phrase loops in my head. I don't think much about people, but it won't stop. Maybe it's from childhood, when a girl harassed me for being timid. I wondered if I was hated. She said she was indifferent, only noticing my reactions. I endured.
I think I fell in love with her—Stockholm syndrome, maybe. That love faded, but it shaped my view of humanity. She wasn't evil, just mean. Evil is murderers, thieves, traitors, deceivers. She was my first and only love; maybe she ruined me for others. Not upset, just worth mentioning.
I hate this endless road. "I love you…" I only heard that from my dad. I want to hear it again, genuinely. At school, I felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, taken by passersby.
I am a shattered mirror, an abstract painting of shame, a cracked road ignored by all, a fading star. To be loved is the greatest feeling; it still makes my heart flutter.
Emergency Recording: I'm hiding in a country house; the suit warns of danger. I'm holding my breath, heart racing. I saw its vague shape, smelled rot. It's clicking. Four hours later, it's still outside, sniffing, mumbling "Sonnn…" (deleted). I feel it's calling me. It's 3 a.m.; I'll try to sleep, hoping it's gone by morning.
27/12/06
It's raining. Checked yesterday's recording; it had an error. Wanted to remove my helmet, but the suit advised against it due to anomalous precipitation. Haven't heard a living voice.
Saw something vaguely human, missing an arm, maybe last night's thing. It stays 100 feet back, stopping when I stop. Unsettling. The suit says the rain's cold.
The suit asked, in a less robotic woman's voice, "What's your favorite book?" I said The Idiot. No more questions.
Update: Rain's not stopping. Holed up in another house. Heard clicking; saw a vaguely human female figure. The rot smell's less bad. A familiar voice said, "Where are you…" Heart pounding, I'm hyperventilating. The suit's voice sounds like it's underwater; the figure's yelling, "WHERE ARE YOU…" I inhale, and everything goes black.
28/12/06
Woke up walking. Two figures trail me, 100 feet back. Rain's pouring, clearing the rot smell. This can't last forever. I'll stop by a library for books; walking's boring.
I see the ocean—beautiful. Something's disturbing the ground. The water spirals 300 meters offshore. I'm a curious detective. A giant head emerges, eyes ocean-blue, black scales, bleeding wounds turning the water crimson. The suit urges me to move, but I can't. The vortex stops; the head vanishes. It saw me.
Update (3 a.m.): Can't sleep. I see and hear those things. Another voice, one I know—love. I cried until morning; the voices stopped. I'm falling…
29/12/06
Passed out yesterday. Three figures now trail me. Last year, I wanted to die after hearing Beatrice Loren killed herself on April 29, 2005, overdosing on painkillers. I was drinking alone on my birthday when she texted, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY CONGRATS ON 27…" I ignored it. Her mom called the next day with the news.
If I'd responded, could I have saved her? She was dating an abusive guy; I offered to arrest him, but she refused, fearing worse. Her note to me:
"Hello, nerd… it's been a while, huh? Remember the first day we met? April 29th… your birthday. The day after was mine… tomorrow will be mine, haha. I wonder if I could go back, turn back time to tell you something… it's too embarrassing now. I love you, I always have. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of rejection. My one regret is not telling you. Happy birthday and thank you."
I couldn't stop crying, couldn't work for weeks. Our mutual feelings hurt. Could a call have changed things? A butterfly effect, maybe the world wouldn't have ended. Stupid thought, but it makes me sick.
"I'm sorry, Beatrice…" I'll stop recording for now.
31/12/06
New Year's Eve, lying on the grass, staring at stars twinkling at their own pace. A new, brighter star appeared yesterday; I'm fond of it. Three figures sit nearby, one closer. I'm focused on the stars, invisible to the world, seen only by that star. It's enough to make my heart flutter—fucking Stockholm.
"Hey… do you mind if I sit?" I don't open my eyes, terrified I'll fall apart.
"Sure, go ahead." My voice cracks. I can't look, even knowing it shouldn't see me, but it does. I inhale and exhale, each breath feeling like days. The wind, water, and her breathing beside me.
"So how you've been holding up?"
"…"
"Still drinking, huh?"
"Who are you…"
"You know…"
"But… but…"
"I died?"
"Yeah… you did…"
The waves grow stronger. I open my eyes, looking up, avoiding her.
"Did you read my note?"
"Yeah, I did."
"What did you think?"
"What did I think…" I turn to her. Her face has a small smile, eyes sparkling, black hair spilling onto the ground as she lies beside me. I freeze.
"I wished I'd called you…"
"Don't worry, I won't hold it against you like I used to." She removes my helmet, cups my cheek.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you kill yourself? Why not ask for help?"
"I gave up. I wanted to love you, but I felt I had no right to ask you to want me back."
"But I did… I wanted you back."
"I know… but I couldn't believe you'd want someone who made you suffer in school."
"But I did… you gave me Stockholm syndrome…"
"Maybe I did…" She turns to the stars. I can't stop looking at her.
"If I was up there, would you join me?"
"Up where?"
"In the stars, would you join me?"
"Yes, I would."
"Then don't worry… we'll meet again soon, and you can have all the time you want." She stands, pats my head, and walks away.
"Before you go… I'm sorry, Beatrice…"
"For what?"
"For not being there, for not answering your text."
"Hmm… I forgive you, you little crybaby." She wipes my eyes. "Maybe when we meet again, we can talk more about us."
1/1/07
Last night was something. I cried until I slept. Back on my way, one figure's gone. The ocean's crimson, like fruit punch. The suit has no info on this thing. I'll stop by a library, wearing my helmet for safety.
The suit wants me to walk faster, no detours. Better than making a bad call and blaming this hunk of bolts.
Update: I'll skip daily updates unless something big happens.
5/1/07
Dark, like the night with Beatrice. I wait to see if a figure approaches. After 40 minutes, I hear leaves crunching.
"How you doing, kiddo?"
"Dad? Is that you?"
"Nah, it's the Great Dragon Smaug," he says, mimicking Benedict Cumberbatch.
"Yeah, that's you…"
"How you holding up?"
"A bottle…"
"Shit'll kill you, look at me, haha."
"You didn't die from drinking… some idiot driver…"
"If I'd been sober, I might've dodged."
"Why are you here? Not just to chat about your death."
"You're right… no need to be cold." I swallow nothing, mouth dry.
"I love you, always have, even now, dead and forgotten. I'm still your father… that's where your good looks come from…" I swallow again.
"The path ahead's hell, but I'm here for you. See that star?" He points to the second-brightest, not in any constellation. "That's me. Look up when you need help."
"Why couldn't you have lived…"
"I'm sorry, kiddo… I wish I'd been there every second, but life had other plans."
"I missed you… everything fell apart, like stars falling."
"I know… I'm sorry I left you alone." He embraces me; I cry for so long, wanting to stay in that moment forever.
"It's time to go. You'll be okay, not alone, don't worry."
7/1/07
Were Beatrice and Dad real? Their warmth was. I'm ranting to no one. Why am I here, alone so long? Why this suffering? My head hurts; I'll keep walking.
Update (6 hours later): Why did Beatrice die? Why did I drown in liquor, avoid people, cause my own suffering? Why pretend I wasn't at fault?
Forgive me for my weakness. Did Mom leave because of it? Solving cases, drowning in booze, ignoring those who cared—if I saw that in my child, I'd leave too.
"Terrible, you are terrible," women said after dates. I'm flawed; countless reasons. I caused my pain. If I'd confessed to Beatrice, maybe it'd be less. I think I died, resurrected by her forgiveness and Dad's comfort. The dead comfort me as I wander… a vagabond.
9/1/07
Snowing again. Saw a white, fluffy rabbit with big eyes. Then a man—a real human. I ran to him. The rabbit's nose twitched as he approached. One rabbit became two, then three, four, more. They struck, teeth tearing his flesh. I watched, horrified, as they left nothing but blood and rabbits. Thank God for this suit.
Update: Got away from those Devil Bunnies. The suit says I'm 30 days out. I'm hugging the shore in case that thing reappears. I don't know my purpose, but I've never had one—just a drone in a cycle.
The world feels empty, unnatural for an unexceptional detective to be the last one left. "Take a sad song and make it better, remember to let her into your heart…" Hey Jude, my favorite Beatles song, feels fitting, though plain compared to their others.
I'll keep walking. The suit lets me skip sleep, but it felt natural. I'll go all night. What's the endgame? What does this spear do?
15/1/07
Emergency Recording: Fucking hell… What the fuck is that thing… Sudden Interruption
Update: A rabbit attacked, took my pinkie while I was out of the suit to piss. Fucking hell. The suit says it can simulate the finger's sensation. Another reason to stay in.
I'm behind schedule, three weeks left. Unbelievable I've walked 23 days. A second-rate detective with alcohol problems as the last man standing, haha.
I am a lonely man
Walking across a field
Of corpses in an empty world.
This loneliness, vaster than the sky.
A dim, fading star, unseen, as I was before…
Maybe I could've been a poet, not a detective, haha.
The suit updated on those rabbits:
Name: Sean Edward Chiplock, Senior Investigator 6211990.
Reporting on Paradox Anomaly 321984. Type: Animalia. Small rabbits with a horn. They duplicate infinitely near humans; without humans, they reduce to one. Even a leg regenerates and replicates. In a Grand Canyon test, 10,842,249,905 rabbits were recorded before they climbed out and killed the human. Recommend immediate elimination.
Threat classification: Apollo.
Fucking rabbits…
25/12/06 (Error Recovered)
You are the problem… we are going to nothing. You and me, we know it, lying to ourselves. We wish a lot, don't we?
Right now, you're asleep, and I want us to die, to jump off a bridge and shatter every bone. We're a failure, wanting what we don't deserve. That's why we didn't answer her—it was me, the part that couldn't face her. We drank to drown the noise, living in a grey world.
You won't hear this; I've blocked it. We're two sides of a coin, afraid of the unknown, of Beatrice's infinite answers. People were too complex. It's just been me and you.
17/1/07
Religion… Dad and I went to church every Sunday. The pastor spoke of God's kindness, Lucifer's curse, and Jesus's sacrifice for our sins. I'm conflicted. God could've saved Dad, sparing me suffering, but maybe Dad's in heaven. It hurts to question God's existence.
Where's Beatrice? Religion says she's in hell for suicide, despite being good, aside from bullying. Religion's been man's conflict forever.
Rambling to the suit, I guess. Update: Rabbits everywhere. I got away, hoping for some payoff.
18/1/07
Getting eaten by a glorified eel wasn't my plan. Stuck inside, looking for an exit. Maybe this Leviathan will end humanity. I'll sit here. Death feels meaningless compared to my life's shame—ostracized as a kid, indifferent as an adult, drowning pity in a bottle. Living this long in this world is an anomaly.
Sighs The stomach's moving; next stop, acid. Unknown staticRecording Ends.
Update: Coughed up on a beach, covered in vomit, spear beside me. Guess I didn't sit well. I'm in Ashdod, 16 hours from my destination. I'll relax a bit.
19/1/07
This might be one of my last recordings. I've made mistakes: playing the clown, forgotten when I lost my flair; losing Dad, my confidant; becoming a detective for no reason, hiding in alcohol, fearing the unknown. I was a coward. Now, at the world's end, there's less unknown, but I'm alone, fearing it despite knowing I'm not. I've accomplished nothing, repaid no one. No religion guides me. I'm a child, lost, walking to the unknown.
Beatrice, I'm sorry. Dad, I'm sorry I didn't cherish our time. I'm just a man, not a god or creature, seeking purpose but finding suffering.
20/1/07
Today, I head to the finish line, spear in hand. It's snowing softly; my steps leave no footprints. The final day.
Update (4 a.m., 21/1/07): I made it. A figure sits on a cliff.
"Hello, Detective, how are you?"
"Can't say I've been better."
"You deserve an explanation for why you're here." I stand silent.
"You have a choice. First, offer yourself for the world. That spear—the Spear of Longinus—if I stab you, everything ceases, and you rebuild it anew. A purpose in a crumbling world."
"And the second?"
"We watch the world crumble into nothing. The first brings pain like you've never felt, loneliness in the sky, a bright star far away."
"So, sacrifice myself or wait for the end?"
"Yeah, that's it."
Even my ending is suffering. It makes sense. Goodbye, suit. Time to serve a purpose. End of Recording
Final Entry
I sit alone in darkness, zooming into the world below, created in the image of the person life hated most. It's "perfect" in a warped way—suffering, pain, hatred, and evil persist, but love is stronger than I wished. One person refused to return, choosing this darkness.
"Hey, you little crybaby."
"Hello… Beatrice."
"What do you wanna do?"
"Just talk…"
"We can talk as long as you'd like." She embraces me, her hand warm and soft. We cry, and the world below rains tears.
"Thank you for staying."
"Shut up, you nerd," her voice shakes.
"Alright…" I smile, lying on the floor. She lies beside me, staring at the black ceiling.
"Why did you end it?"
"I regretted everything. I wanted you to accept me, but no response felt like God telling me to die. I didn't blame you; it was unbearable."
"You're stupid, but so am I."
"Yeah, we both are." We laugh and cry, making up for years of fear.
"This is eternity…" I sit on the black floor. "Regret staying? You could've had anything on earth."
She thinks, eyes on me. "But I wouldn't have had you."
I laugh; she pouts. "Are you happy? Was it worth the pain?"
"Yeah, it was…"
This is my final note to eternity.