ZORDOX0 — PERSONAL JOURNAL

Apparently, we are allowed to keep personal blogs on the internal network. I suppose that's nice. There aren't many opportunities to express yourself when you spend most of your working hours in a sector where speaking to another person requires authorization. I work in Sector Two. The most dangerous sector in the entire facility, according to just about everyone. You would think that means something exciting happens here. It doesn't. I check equipment. I monitor containment systems. I stand in the same rooms for hours, watching people who are apparently too dangerous to be left alone. And somehow, they seem to be enjoying themselves more than I am. I would gladly switch places with GR-8. At least he gets visitors.

Another perfectly uneventful day. Sector Three came by to check the containment doors. They inspected the emergency systems, asked a few questions, and left. I watched them talking in the corridor. One of them was laughing. I don't remember the last time I laughed at work. The regulations prohibit unnecessary interaction with personnel assigned to certain containment areas. That includes me, apparently. I can speak to my supervisor when necessary. I can speak to the psychologist during scheduled appointments. And, of course, I can speak to the subjects when the procedure specifically requires it. Wonderful. I have a specialized access level, years of training, and absolutely nobody to talk to. Maybe I should request a transfer to the archives. At least paper doesn't need a containment team.

I heard they're opening a new research department. The experiments are designated SE. I don't know much about them yet, except that the department is supposed to be established somewhere in Sector Two. FINALLY. Something new. Apparently, they're having trouble finding volunteers among the existing personnel. I don't understand why. Half the people in this sector have been doing the same jobs for years. I would volunteer immediately. Actually, I think I will. I might finally have a reason to look forward to coming to work.

THEY MOVED IT. THEY ACTUALLY MOVED THE ENTIRE DEPARTMENT TO SECTOR ONE. The official explanation is that the experiments do not present a sufficient threat to justify assigning personnel with specialized containment qualifications. Excuse me? So I'm TOO QUALIFIED to do something interesting? I have spent years preparing for emergencies that never happen, and now that there's an opportunity to participate in something new, they give it to people who probably haven't even finished their training. Unbelievable. I asked my supervisor whether there had been some kind of mistake. He said the decision was final. Of course it was.

Submitted a transfer request to Sector One. I don't particularly care what position they give me. Research assistant, security, equipment maintenance. I'll even organize their damn paperwork. Anything would be better than this.

Request denied. Reason: my qualifications are considered essential to current operations. I asked whether that meant I could apply for a different position within Sector Two. Also denied. The psychologist suggested I try to find satisfaction in the importance of my work. I told her that watching GR-8 sit in a room for eight hours wasn't particularly satisfying. She said that I should reconsider how I define professional success. I asked whether I could volunteer for one of the experiments instead. She thought I was joking. I wasn't entirely joking.

SOMEONE TALKED TO ME TODAY. An actual conversation. Not a work-related question. Not an instruction. A CONVERSATION. I was standing near the eastern corridor when a man approached me carrying a cup of coffee. He asked how my shift was going. I wasn't sure whether I was allowed to answer. He didn't seem particularly concerned about that. We talked for maybe five minutes. Nothing important. He asked about my work, complained about the elevators, and mentioned that he had been spending too much time between sectors. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. When he left, I realized I was smiling. I think this has been the best day I've had in months. Which is incredibly depressing when I write it down.

Found out who the man was. xero2. Apparently, he's one of the higher-ranking officials in the facility. Clearance level W. I had never heard of him before. My psychologist looked rather surprised when I mentioned our conversation. She asked whether he had initiated it. I said yes. She seemed relieved. I asked why. She told me it was better not to concern myself with the activities of higher-ranking personnel. Very helpful. On an unrelated note, WHY ARE PSYCHOLOGICAL APPOINTMENTS SO SHORT? I finally get to speak to someone, and they make me leave after thirty minutes. I'm beginning to think the people who wrote these regulations have never actually spoken to another human being.

Apparently, xero2 is responsible for the new SE department. Of course he is. The one person who bothered to speak to me is in charge of the exact department I wanted to join. I learned from one of the archive employees that some of the department's documentation is still being processed here. That explains why xero2 keeps visiting. What I don't understand is why he collects some of the records personally. Surely he has assistants for that sort of thing. Maybe the documents require his clearance. Or maybe he just likes walking around. I wouldn't blame him. If I could move between sectors whenever I wanted, I would never stay in one place.

Saw xero2 again. He was drinking coffee near the observation rooms. I'm starting to wonder whether he ever actually works in Sector One. He comes here, speaks with the staff, occasionally observes containment procedures, and leaves whenever he feels like it. I envy him. He asked whether I was still interested in transferring. I told him yes. He nodded and said he understood. I thought about asking him whether he could do something about my application. I didn't. It felt inappropriate. Besides, I was enjoying the conversation too much to risk making it uncomfortable. I wish I could talk to him more often.

Something is going wrong with the SE experiments. At least, that's what I've heard. One of the archive workers mentioned inconsistencies in the experimental reports. Apparently, several sessions have produced results that don't match their original objectives. That happens, I suppose. What bothers me is that the department has reportedly been instructed to classify certain deviations as expected outcomes. I asked who issued that instruction. He didn't know. Or didn't want to tell me. I don't understand why anyone would deliberately make the reports less accurate. If something goes wrong, isn't the entire point of documentation to explain what happened? Maybe that's why I'm not a researcher.

GR-8 died today. I wasn't present when it happened. By the time I arrived, the room had already been sealed and most of the equipment had been disconnected. I expected to feel something. Sadness, perhaps. I've spent so much time observing him that I sometimes forget I barely knew anything about him. He had an unusual life. I used to tell myself that I would happily trade places with him. I wonder if he would have agreed. Probably not. Rest in peace, you lucky bastard.

For the first time in months, my shift ended early. With GR-8 gone, some of the usual procedures have been suspended until a new assignment is approved. I actually had time to visit the archives. And TALK TO PEOPLE. I met several employees I'd only ever seen through the observation windows. They invited me to sit with them during their break. We talked about the facility, about the new department, about stupid things people write on the internal network. One of them showed me a collection of particularly embarrassing blog entries. I'm not going to mention names. Except yours, Leiry. I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS. Anyway. It felt good. For a few hours, I wasn't just an employee standing in front of a locked door. I was a person. I hadn't realized how much I missed that.

I've been hearing more about the SE department. The stories are getting stranger. Apparently, some employees have expressed concerns about the subjects' behavior after treatment. Others insist that the procedures are producing exactly the results they were designed to produce. Nobody seems willing to explain what those results actually are. One archive worker told me the experiments had originally been designated for Sector Two because of their potential risk. I thought the department had been moved because the risk was considered minimal. He said that was what the official report stated. Then he asked me whether I had ever seen an official report that was completely accurate. I laughed. He didn't. I'm starting to think the department has more problems than I originally imagined. Still wish I worked there, though.

People are disappearing. Not from our sector. Of course not. Nothing ever happens here. GR-19 has been having some complications, but that hardly counts as exciting. The man apparently exposed himself to a substantial quantity of acid before arriving at the facility. His regenerative properties are remarkable, which makes him useful for research. I understand why he's here. I just wish there were something else for me to do. Anyway, the disappearances. Several employees assigned to the SE department have reportedly stopped showing up for work. At first, I assumed they had been transferred. Then I heard their personnel records were missing. That is considerably harder to explain. I asked one of the archive workers whether the department's management was aware of the situation. He said xero2 was handling it. XERO2. Of course. Now I'm wondering whether he was responsible for rejecting my transfer. Perhaps my supervisor would have approved it if xero2 hadn't intervened. I don't know. I haven't seen him around lately. I was beginning to like the man.

Sector Three has been deployed to Sector One. I had to hear about this from my psychologist. MY PSYCHOLOGIST. How is it possible that I work in one of the most secure parts of this facility and receive less information than the people who spend their days organizing filing cabinets? Nobody has told me what happened. The emergency order apparently concerns the SE department. I asked whether it was a containment breach. She said she couldn't discuss it. I asked whether the personnel were in danger. She said she didn't know. Later, I heard that some of the Sector Three employees hadn't returned. That's unusual. Actually, that's more than unusual. Those people are trained for exactly this kind of situation. If they can't handle whatever is happening over there, why is the department still operating? I don't understand. For the first time, I'm not sure I want to.

The SE department has been closed. At least, that's what they told us. Most of its personnel have been reassigned. A small number apparently remain to complete the final procedures and secure the records. I assumed the remaining work would be transferred here. It would make sense. Sector Two has the infrastructure. We have the people. We have the experience. I even asked whether the closure might create opportunities for additional assignments. My supervisor told me this was not an appropriate time to discuss career development. He's probably right. I saw one of the Sector Three officers being escorted through the main corridor earlier. I thought I recognized her. I wanted to ask what had happened in Sector One. Before I could approach, she turned around. She looked directly at me. For some reason, she seemed frightened. I don't think we've ever met.

Sector One is under quarantine. The entire sector. They've sent additional personnel from Sector Three and even several specialists from Sector Five. I have never heard of anything like this happening to Sector One before. Nobody will explain the situation. The archive workers have been instructed to restrict access to certain records. Apparently, the primary terminal has been producing errors. One of them told me that some personnel files were displaying incorrect names. Another said the shift schedules contained employees who had never been registered. They were arguing about whether the problem was technical or administrative. I asked what happened to the Sector Three teams. Neither of them answered. I submitted transfer requests to every other sector today. I don't even care where they send me anymore. I just want to leave. That feels strange to write. A month ago, I would have done anything to get closer to the SE experiments. Now I don't want to be anywhere near them.

All my transfer requests have been rejected. Every single one. I asked for an explanation. My supervisor said that until the situation in Sector One had been resolved, personnel with specialized clearance were required to remain at their assigned posts. So that's it. I'm trapped here. The archive workers are barely speaking to anyone now. Some of their terminals have been disconnected entirely. I tried contacting one of the people I met during my visit. His account doesn't exist anymore. I know it existed. I remember sitting beside him. I remember him laughing at something on his screen. I remember his face. I think. I spent almost an hour trying to find his name in the records. I couldn't. I don't understand why that frightens me so much. People disappear from the system all the time when their accounts are deactivated. That's probably all it is. I would ask the psychologist, but my appointment has been canceled. Apparently, she has been reassigned. Nobody knows where.

I GOT IT. I ACTUALLY GOT IT. XERO2 CAME TO SEE ME TODAY. PERSONALLY. I couldn't believe it. He said they needed someone with experience to supervise a small team of less experienced personnel. He asked whether I would be interested. INTERESTED? I nearly laughed in his face. After all those rejected applications, after MONTHS of sitting around doing absolutely nothing, someone finally recognized that I might actually be useful. And it was xero2. I take back everything I said about him. Every single word. He's a wonderful man. I should have known. He asked whether I was familiar with the SE department. I said I knew enough to understand the risks. He smiled. Then he said something about how important it was to have people who could be trusted. I asked when I would start. He told me the arrangements had already been made. I don't remember signing anything, but I suppose someone with his clearance can authorize transfers directly. I'm leaving Sector Two. FINALLY. I think this might be the happiest day of my life.

I am back in Sector Two. It's nice here. The corridors are quiet, and the equipment is functioning properly. I have resumed my usual duties. GR-19 has developed cancer. The physician says her condition is stable. She smiled at me this morning. I used to complain about this place. Reading my older entries now, I find it difficult to understand why I was so unhappy. There is nothing wrong with the work. There is nothing wrong with the people. Everything is exactly as it should be. I haven't seen xero2 since my transfer, but I don't think I need to. I am grateful for everything he has done. My supervisor says I have been much more cooperative lately. He seems pleased. I no longer require psychological appointments. I don't feel lonely anymore. It's strange. I remember wanting to talk to people all the time. Now, when somebody approaches me, I find myself hoping they will leave. Not because I dislike them. I simply prefer the silence. There is something comforting about it. Sometimes I hear voices from the observation rooms, but the terminals show no activity. I don't think that's a problem. The readings are green. That means the procedures are working. I should have understood that sooner. I am happy here. I have always been happy here. I don't know why I wrote anything else.