Janson

Month Ixiz, Day 1. Year 9102.

Time: 2:53 AM.

Log Entry #1: Day 1 Summary

So. The first day of PowerGen has been completely hectic and frustrating. Not even five minutes into my introduction, a superhuman attacked me and had to be taken away to that room — the one that's supposed to be a final punishment, not a first one. But, I guess it can't be helped. If it's needed, it's needed. The only issue was that it didn't stop there. An accident happened in the ES after breakfast — and by accident, I mean that someone's flesh and bones and skin melted into a pile of goop — and then Melissa Harper broke Jackson's arm in the training area, and Cassian Brown was acting up with her. So, four subjects in total. Four of them wreaked havoc in one day. 

I guess that proves one thing: superhumans are the same as I remember — violent, vicious, and filled with murderous intent, just like the ones who killed everyone long before the exposure. Just seeing them sends a chill down my back.

I think President Rogers made the wrong choice, appointing me as chancellor.

Month Ixiz, Day 7. Year 9102.

Time: 3:27 AM.

Log Entry #2: Week 1 Summary

The government scouts brought in more superhumans this week. Looking at them makes me sick to my stomach, but unless I want to be beaten by the president's own hands, I have to bury the pain. And I absolutely hate it, but I can't do anything else. At least the chaos has quieted down. I know our subjects hate us — and I hate them as well, so the feeling is mutual — but at least they're not acting on their feelings anymore. That makes the job easier.

The lab results from both the blood samples should be coming in soon. Apparently, our scientists might have found a link between superhuman DNA and their powers.

Something tells me this isn't a discovery they're too happy about, though.

Month Ixiz, Day 14, Year 9102.

Time: 1:12 AM.

Log Entry #3: Week 3 Summary

The past few weeks have been busy. We've found out from the recent brain scan reports sent by the AE trainers that superhumans have a new, unidentified type of brain cell that make up different lobes in the brain, and they become extremely active whenever superhumans use their ability. We definitely want to look more into that.

And then… there's the blood samples. There's definitely a link, and I was expecting to hear anything… except for Exelonian DNA. But, apparently, all superhumans have some trace of "modified-but-still-identifiable" (Dr. Wenz's words) Exelonian genes in them. While that's already strange enough — because, why do superhumans have this DNA when Exelonians only have mind control and foresight? Why do superhumans have a vast expanse of abilities instead? — there's a bigger problem at stake. If all of our subjects are technically some percentage Exelonian… then what's the protocol? Do we continue business as usual, or do we bring them to President Rogers to have them thrown in the ExoJail?

I'll have to talk to her about that in three weeks, since she's too busy at the moment. Or so she says. Some part of me hopes that she'll actually just throw them in jail and call off PowerGen's plan. 

I don't know how much longer I can look at these superhumans without seeing my family's murderers. 

Month Jura. Day 14. Year 9102.

Time: 4:25 AM.

Log Entry #4: Week 6 Summary

So, Harley didn't answer my prayers. She allowed the superhumans to stay as they were, and that we had to continue PowerGen's project as planned.

Goddamnit. 

And if that wasn't enough, the subjects are getting worse each day. 

I don't even know where to start. Marie Jenson isn't the worst of the bunch, but for a new recruit, she's purely annoying. Playing 'harmless' pranks on the guards is all she does, and she's barely cooperative with the scientists at all. That friend of hers — Cillian Flora — is a lot calmer, but he does absolutely nothing to stop her. I think he's silently encouraging it. And that's a massive problem. 

Then… there's Asher Hollows. He's been terrified of his power since day one. He's killed two scientists and three guards in the past three weeks — "on accident," of course — and President Rogers says to keep him for just a while longer, just to see if he improves. I don't understand what she's doing, keeping such a high risk around like this. I don't know what she's thinking at all, trying to keep a bunch of dangerous, murderous people with enhanced abilities in one confined space, and then making me, of all people, handle them. I know I did well managing the ExoJail, but Exelonians didn't pop up in my nightmares. Exelonians were probably just as vicious and dangerous as superhumans, but they didn't slaughter my family. They didn't throw dead bodies at my feet and threaten me to keep my mouth shut.

But superhumans? They did. 

Dropping my pencil on the desk, I huffed a sigh, leaning back in my chair and glancing up at the ceiling of my dark room. My sleep schedule was screwed up beyond repair the minute PowerGen started, but why bother trying to rest when I'd wake up at five and repeat the same day all over again while running two hours of sleep? Why bother trying to fix myself now?

I slammed my book shut and stuffed it back on my shelf, where all my other notebooks sat, building up into a stack over the years. It wasn't that I liked journaling, but more that I had to — that, if I didn't, I would probably die at any minute without any remnants of my life left behind. My house was empty, and it wasn't like anyone else knew me except for the president and the other PowerGen employees. So, the only thing I could do was store my life on paper, in a bunch of shitty journals — not for anyone else to see, but for me to have some peace of my mind.

It was something I did since I was little, after I ran out of my old house that was covered in blood and death. Mom left her necklace behind, Dad left his old switchblade knife. My three sisters dropped their favorite instruments — a guitar, uke, and a flute — before they ran into the living room to where their murderers were. They left traces of themselves behind, and I'd gathered them all to keep with me. 

And now that I was constantly on-edge every single waking moment of my life, worrying what would happen next, how long my mind could last through the day, maybe it was time to wonder what I'd start leaving behind. 

Just in case I died young. Just in case these superhumans killed me before PowerGen finished its plan.

Three quick beats of shuffling footsteps came from behind, and I whirled to see a lanky man with white hair and a tank top walking across my room. 

Oh, right. Walter. The only other person in my family to survive. The one who freeloaded in my house and lived off whatever scraps I allowed him to eat in my kitchen.

As much as I pitied him, I couldn't help but think that he'd die with nothing left behind.