Whatever happened here, it’s not a virus, or any known pathogen. At least, that's what the doctor tells me. There are no visible injuries, only invisible ones.
My symptoms have just started, but they track what the others have gone through. Things are starting to get fuzzy, just like with them.
Faces I can’t remember. Like an old photo, blurry around the edges. Crumbling.
The few men left up here can’t be trusted to care for themselves. We've had to lock them in their quarters to keep them from wandering off. We tried going a different way, more psychological. We had a little luck at first, and then it all collapsed again.
Rüdiger hasn’t been back to see us since we took the machine offline. I’m struggling myself, and holding out for the resupply he promised. Will it get here in time?
I've changed, somehow. The men, the medical officer, all of us. But not him. Not Rüdiger.
He’ll want the research. It shows some bizarre benefits, even if it’s come at a price. Rüdiger found what he was looking for.
He can keep it.