Excerpts Taken From Marcus P. Kellum’s Personal Journal.
The move to the new facility has been a rather boring and tedious business. However happy I may be due to the new funding, equipment, and general caliber of the people I will be working with, I shall always feel a tinge of regret at not being in the old house on Arkham lane. This new place seems far more clinical, far more sterile. The staff is forced to wear company uniforms and they use plastic security badges to move from room to room in this airtight enclosure. It is a far different from the pipe tobacco smoke and the tweed of my old campus residence! I miss my old books and scrolls; they have been transcribed to microfiche and are in the process of being entered into a database to be accessed by scholars with a like mind as my own.
Since I have moved here, I have met several of these like-minded men and women. These men and women, my colleagues, have their own stories to tell…or they are too frightened to tell them. Some men, in an attempt to conceal their abject fears, are all bluster and boasting. They will enter my rooms and want to discuss what I have done and seen in the past. They will want to compare “fishing stories” as I have begun to call them. Whoever has the largest fish must be the alpha-male… Other men and women here, they are blank. They do not talk about what they know. They conceal the hopeless and utterly horrible visions and they do not speak of them. These are the people I want to unlock. These are the individuals who have seen what I have seen. That cold plateau in Turkey, that grasping and dying hand…if these people have seen half of what I know is possible, it is imperative that we exchange information. It is of utmost importance that we share these tales because the world outside this clinic does not know what is happening. Even if they did, they would not believe us.
