Monday - October 29th, 2121:

Files flickered across the screen alongside glitched artifacts that accompanied them. They filled the monitor with thousands of unnamed documents from top to bottom. I began clicking through them, searching for answers.

#10213: Our experiments have all failed. Why are these creatures so durable? They cannot be burned, frozen, electrocuted, or drowned. Our bullets do as much to them as feathers do to us. How is humanity supposed to stand a chance against the evolved ones?

#5422: We lost so much time when they cut our funding. Infiltrating the government was the most brilliantly absurd move they could have made. They crippled our retaliation by so many months. Finally, humanity's unified, but at what cost? Will we succeed before it's too late?

#17721: Curses, they must have infiltrated our group. Why else would half suddenly decide they want to go against Project Horizon? Are they so greedy for their own lives and not for humanity's survival? How long have they worked on the oceanic base? It's incomprehensible for something like this to happen. Our plan's delayed—again.

#21672: Project Horizon has forked into two paths. We're nearly done developing the Ozone Reactor, which should poison these parasitic cockroaches that pollute our minds. But if all fails, we'll leave our final hopes with Orion.

#25551: The oceanic base has been developing something. Large creatures have emerged from the depths, and humanity's future seems bleak. We've hidden away our closest loved ones in a subterranean nuclear bunker. It's our final act of selfishness. May God forgive us and bless them.

#32216: We've contacted Captain Dostoevsky. As long as the O.S.S. moves its axis to the calculated coordinates, the horizon will be clear.

#37763: They're coming. Colossal lifeforms are spreading further, and fear is infiltrating our minds. No matter how we struggle, we are no longer confident. The Earth quakes under their might. Were we the parasites all along? There's no method where such life can appear suddenly. They must have been there since the beginning. Watching. Waiting. Planning.

#40024: Humans can't handle these abominations. What have we done? We've only made things worse in the end. We should've spent time with our families. The end is here.

#45221: I'm the last one. I hear the voices coming closer. I don't know how long I can last. This plague-like madness spreads beyond mortal means. Are we not the abandoned ones?

The files cut off suddenly, leaving me in a daze. I went through it again. There had to be something more. Is this everything humanity's greatest left? Preposterous.

#351: There's an infection slowly spreading across the globe. We've quarantined 'Patient Zero' for monitoring and testing.

#367: We've tried to neutralize the viral elements, but nothing's working. Our closest success was eradicating a small part of the virus when exposed to the atmosphere. It's a small step, but we're hopeful.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

#1651: The speed of spreading has intensified beyond what our tests have determined possible. It begs us to ask the question—why? Once the infection's found a host, it seems almost impossible to separate the two.

#3641: 'Patient Zero' is muttering incoherent ramblings. It's a language, but none that we know of, none recorded since the beginning of our history. Even worse is his body. It keeps expanding and growing beyond the limits of a human. Any more, and we believe he'll burst.

#27712: The oceanic base has sent us correspondence. They claim to know the truth and that we should come to them. Some are foolish enough to believe it and have left. What a headache.

#39415: The O.S.S. is unresponsive. Has Project Horizon failed before it even began? We have the Ozone Reactor ready to fire at any moment, but will it be enough on its own?

My fingers subconsciously rapped against the console's cold metallic edge. Thoughts swirled in my mind, distant and unfocused. There was simply too much to go through. Some files were fragmented and corrupt. Others were incomplete. They left their findings in such a messy state.

At least the pictures and videos should have had something useful. Yet they were such precise and clinical displays that paired identically with the textual logs, leaving me with nothing but disappointment. They didn't even show 'Patient Zero' or the experiments. Instead, opting to show test results and conclusions they came to. Useless.

I slammed my fist on the console, causing sparks to crackle and an alarming drone to buzz.

'Awaken the Horizon - Ozone Saturation Incomplete - Retrying . . . '

The wide glass panel in the back of the room illuminated, and I could see a massive device aimed at the sky. It began to whirr and charge before a beam of misty light shot into the retracted ceiling above it. I could barely make out the scene from the corner of the panel as the clouds parted, revealing the celestial body above. It didn't take long before it flickered and stopped, closing the ceiling up before the panel turned obscured once more.

'Incomplete - Core Zero Missing -'

'Insert Core Unit -'

Finally, I had some direction. Would repairing the device change something? It seemed like they were confident about it, at least in the beginning. Where would the core be? In the oceanic base? How would I even get there?

Again, I scanned through the console, gloved hands clattering away at the keys. There had to be a map or something to guide the way. After searching through several dozen files, I found a path to follow to the oceanic base. The only problem was, there were no instructions on how to actually access it.

No matter. Just like with the distortion field, there must be an answer to be found once I'm there. I felt an excitement swelling within me as I turned to leave the base. If I take Flora with me, it should be easy to get through any obstacle. I felt genuinely grateful to have her around.

I left the central room and headed back out through the body-littered corridors.

"Flora, let's go! We have a new destination." I spoke out. What awaited me was silence. "Flora? Where are you? FLORA?"

Suddenly, the ground shook with a fury, sweeping me off my feet. It was apocalyptic and unbearable, something man could not contest against. From afar, I saw its head peer through the distant horizon, stretching higher into the sky as it approached. Did Flora sense it and run? I was praying that she did. Because staying here to meet that thing in person seemed suicidal in comparison. But did she leave, or did something happen to her? "Dammit!"

Just leave her! You're not meant to be a hero!