Year 1.
Alastair M. 004 309983
So Dr. Sinclair has wanted me on 004 duty as some sort of ‘Captain’ ever since I brought back Anomaly #76 and apparently couldn’t remember some important things. Either way, they want me to keep a journal and write every day so I won't lose track anymore again. The thing is, I’m not allowed to go into ‘The Misty Television’ research for the time being. By the way, The Misty Television is a stupid name and should be something like uh… Who is Misty Television creature? I’m not sure but I guess that’s why Sinclair wants me to keep a journal.
I’ll start at the beginning where I awoke at the perfect time of 4:30am at my home. It was a warm month of March; keyword was, and it was still fairly dark where I live. I prepared my usual concoction of toast and jam to prepare the following hours of my new research job I have with the foundation. Thing is, they don’t like me calling the foundation a foundation. Something about SCP? Not sure what an SCP is or what it has to do with the foundation in any sort of way but as soon as I got to the foundation my coworker 22021 or what I call her is ‘Tiffany’; because we aren't allowed to use our names and no one actually knows each other besides those numbers we get assigned to wear, but Tiffany was kind enough to show me around my I believe it’s my third week around the so-called ‘Unorthodox Vault’; which I just remembered what Captain 005 calls the workplace so I’ll be using that name so I won't upset Sinclair when they read my journal, and it seemed really cool to be accepted after those three weeks to join The Vault to study these anomalies.
My first day as a researcher went fairly okay. I saw this translucent man who is free to walk around, which is extremely rare since we collect these cryptids and put them in a dank prison to study them for all eternity or something. Tiffany said that this translucent man is Anomaly #02 and is not any threat and I don’t remember anything after that because I got pulled aside for research in Spain with 47845 or which I will call him ‘Greg’. We got sent to Spain on this nice personal plane. It was like that time when I was 28 and I snuck into first-class but to realize that I smuggled in LSD onto an airplane ran into the restroom 12 minutes into the flight to take so-called drugs, bashing my way to the first class just to throw up screaming nonsensical gibberish. Turns out that I was actually kicked off and sent to jail for a while with possession of drugs and my parents went to Fiji without me and now I’m removed from the family as of 2009.
But yes, the flight to Spain was awesome. I went to some tourist places with Greg while looking for the cryptid near the area. I was getting some of this Spanish street food from this very nice and pretty person running the vendor and I got this tap on the shoulder from Greg and I turned around to see that literally almost everyone was surrounding something with ooh’s and ah’s. Greg with his weird accent which I believe is French told me the following, “309983, I’m getting signal that Anomaly number seventy-six is passed that crowd.” I told him my name was Alastair and to just call me Al or something and he rudely cut me off with, “Ok, but the device says number seventy-six is right over there.”
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I look down at the device Greg had; he was in charge of holding the expensive tracking technology we were given by Dr. Sinclair, the device looks rather fancy being this nice metal phone that read, ‘ANOMALY #76, THE MISTY TELEVISION’, and it had this map that resembled the ones submarines use showing three dots. Two of those dots were side by side; which I believe was us, and another dot very close to our dots. I looked back up towards the group of people acting like a moth getting attracted by light and it was the weirdest thing. Greg took off without me towards Anomaly 76 and it took me a while to register that he left and I ran to catch up with that handsome devil. Don’t ask me what he looks like because all I remember about him is that he was tall, olive-skinned, and fucking handsome. Literally nothing else.
As soon as I reached the crowd of ‘moths’ I heard Greg’s handsome french voice yell, “FUCK!”
And a loud thunk, which turned out to be exactly what I thought it was. It was Greg yelling and hitting the hard gravel face first. Immediately of course I went to Greg to make sure he was conscious. He wasn’t. But what I was sure of was this loud static noise I heard when looking at the back of my french friend's head. It was the sound of literal television static and it was the only thing I could hear. The noise wasn't ear-piercing thankfully but it absolutely gave me this headache. I look up and right in front of me is this T.V. from the early 2000s. It was on this channel that only showed Seinfeld of all things and it got me thinking. Why is this ancient device in the middle of this crowd playing for the love of God of all things: Seinfeld. Also, why were these people crowding this television to all collectively watch Seinfeld together? The damn thing isn't even plugged in and -- Wait.
This whole time I was crouched down by Greg’s unconscious body tapping the earth and there was a small puddle of blood coming from his face. I was tapping in for who knows how long in Greg’s blood and I haven’t even had dinner with him and ‘Oh my god I’m going to have to marry him and --’ I snap out of that thought and see that Seinfeld is on commercial breaks and it has this Ring like ad playing and turns out it’s not some movie trailer for The Ring sequel like I wanted but it was this sort of live broadcast and I woke up back at The Vault’s nurses room and turns out while I was staring at the television Greg somehow got up and picked it up, picked me up by my belt and carried me like a bag of groceries back to the plane and now we are back and that T.V. was the cryptid we were hunting. The nurse told me; or doctor can’t remember but it’s not important I think, said that #76 did some serious things to my head and I had to take leave for 4 months while being watched under surveillance until I was better. Apparently, it’s the reason I’m losing track of things as of the past 2 years, and only now it has become an issue for Sinclair to make me write.