Mine: The Arrival (10 page)

As a side note, Dr. Durant has informed me he would like to extend my stay here until we have a better picture of what is happening. I very much would like to get to the bottom of these unexplained incidents, so I have agreed to his request. I hope that the additional data I collect will be the key to finding some answers.

F
OURTEEN

D
R. DURANT CLOSED
the file and tapped his desk, thinking.

The good news was that he seemed to have tempered Dr. Daniels’s concerns for now. Soon, however, the psychologist would be expecting the information Durant had promised from the oversight committee, which meant Durant would have to use his own valuable time to make up something that sounded plausible. Because there was no oversight committee.

The only person beyond the blast doors who had known the truth about the project was President Roosevelt, and that knowledge had died with him almost a year earlier. Thankfully, the project’s budget was funneled through a defense company front Durant had been smart enough to set up at the beginning of the war. So while funds would continue flowing, there was no one on the outside providing any other help. Even the special forces team that had guarded the entrance to the facility had been replaced at the end of the war by a private security firm hired directly through Durant’s dummy corporation. Those men thought they were protecting an experiment in long-term underground living. In a way, they were.

The bottom line was that Project Titan was on its own. That’s why Durant had been reluctant to bring in the psychologist in the first place. If not for the insistence of Durant’s second-in-command, he wouldn’t have.

“What we are doing here is not even close to normal,” Dr. Kozakov had argued. “Convincing people to give up everything to work on the project of a lifetime is one thing, actually living under those conditions for so long is another.”

“No one here is stupid. They knew what they were getting into.”

Kozakov frowned. “You have lost perspective, my friend.”

“The hell I have.”

“You are the only one who goes back to the surface. The rest of us are in this…prison. The isolation can be unbearable. Human beings are not designed to live this way.”

“So, what—I should arrange for picnics in the meadow?”

“That might be a start. But the problems are deeper than that.”

“
You’re
not having any issues.”

“Do not be so sure. I have had more than a few moments when I have wanted to bash my head against the wall. And I have not been here as long as most of the others.”

Durant looked at his friend anew. Kozakov had always been the model of consistency, his mood never seeming to swing too high or too low.

“All I am saying is that there must be someone out there you can bring in who…fits our profile,” the Russian suggested. “Someone who can talk to people when they need it, who can develop programs that can keep problems to a minimum.”

“A head doctor.”

“Yes.”

It had taken a bit more coaxing, but Durant had finally given in and arranged with an outside source to identify potential candidates. He had then gone in person to enlist Daniels in a “special governmental program.”

Durant’s phone buzzed. He shoved down the intercom button. “Yes?”

“Dr. Chambers would like to see you,” Lauraine said.

Durant’s mood brightened. Chambers had been working on an angle that might finally unlock the secrets of the Titan craft.

“Where is he?”

“Laboratory B.”

“Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Durant locked Dr. Daniels’s report in his cabinet and headed out of his office, thoughts of the psychologist and the mental state of his staff pushed out of his mind.

F
IFTEEN

From the private journal of Dr. Norman Daniels

June 23, 1946, 2:15 am.

The calm of late winter and early spring has truly ended. I was so sure I’d gotten a handle on everything, and that we wouldn’t see a resurgence of the psychotic episodes experienced in December and January.

Unfortunately the vivid dreams, and the episodes of forgotten time, and Miss Wilton’s “forward glimpses” have not only returned, but have increased in frequency and scope. In addition, there have been several incidents of violence associated with those experiencing the forgotten time.

Up until two days ago, I was still operating under the assumption there was an organic cause to what has been happening. My focus had turned to two possibilities: gases trapped in the earth’s crust seeping into the facility, or some type of poisonous mineral dust being breathed in or ingested in food. Now I know I was wrong from the start.

Last night I experienced my first vivid dream, and tonight I have just woken from another. They were exactly as the others have described them. The brilliant colors, the ribbons, the sense of serenity. I can say with certainty they were not dreams in the same sense that my profession understands them. They were more sleeping hallucinations, but even that is inadequate to describe the experience.

While it may seem that everyday dreams are out of our control, they are created by our own subconsciousness and ultimately steered by some part of us. The vivid dreams are something else entirely. Though I could determine what color of ribbon I walked on, and which direction I went, I could sense an undercurrent of control that was coming from something
outside
of me.

None of the others had reported this feeling, but I’m convinced that when I am able to ask them, they will tell me it was part of their hallucinations, too.

As a final blow to my previous theory, if the dreams had been brought on because of poison or accidental gassing, I would have expected to wake with some kind of lingering physical effect. A hangover, or a sense of weakness, or aches and pains. I realized no one else has reported having any of those, but they could have been holding back in fear of losing their jobs. Now I know they weren’t holding back, because when I opened my eyes I was refreshed, more so than if I’d had a normal night’s sleep.

I am convinced now more than ever that Dr. Durant needs to shut down the project and move all personnel out of the facility. I can’t help but believe that the focus of the project—the Titan object itself—is responsible for these collective experiences. How and why are questions for later.

Earlier today, technically yesterday, I attempted to raise my concerns with Dr. Durant. But as always seems to be the case these days, he was too busy to see me. I’ve scheduled a meeting with him for one p.m. this afternoon.

Hoping to speed things up, I stopped into Dr. Kozakov’s office and tried to explain my feelings to him, but he cut me off and told me this was something only Dr. Durant could address.

(3:32 a.m.)

I lay back down but was unable to fall asleep.

I’ve decided this can’t wait until my one p.m. meeting. There’s some kind of experiment occurring with the Titan craft in the morning, which means Dr. Durant will be there. Maybe I can corner him for a few minutes.

The sooner I can make my case, the better for everyone.

S
IXTEEN

Reel-to-reel audio file

June 24, 1946

[
Unidentifiable bangs and scratches
]

Male voice, hushed: This is Dr. Magnus Kozakov, assistant director of Project Titan. Before I say anything else, if you are listening to this inside the Titan facility, stop now, take this tape, and get out. You are in grave danger if you remain. And whatever you do, do not forget to reseal the door.

[
Breathing and ambient noise
,
3.5 seconds
]

Kozakov: Something has gone seriously wrong, and it is likely that I and the rest of the Titan team are…dead. When I first joined the project, Dr. Durant assured me that the Titan craft had been inactive since its discovery. But he was mistaken. It
is
active and, if I am correct, has always been. I think that—

[
A human grunt and whine of pain, followed by several seconds of heavy breathing
]

Kozakov: It is trying…to use me…again. I can feel it wrapping around…my…my mind.

[
Heavy breathing, almost panting before slowing
]

Kozakov: Someone called our security team to come down and help. For all I know it could have been me, but I have no memory of this. All I know is that at some point I saw them inside the facility. This was the first time they had ever crossed beyond the blast doors so it was an odd sight. After they were inside, Dr. Chambers, I think, sealed the blast doors, though I doubt he was doing so on his own. It was the craft. This is
all
because of the craft. I am sure of it.

[
Ambient noise, 2 seconds
]

Kozakov: If you are listening to this, it means the doors have been unsealed again, that
it
unsealed them. Get out! Leave before it gets into your head. Did I already warn you? Maybe…I…I cannot remember. But it does not matter. Get out now! Listen to the rest of this once you are safe.

[
Ambient noise and breathing, 9 seconds
]

Kozakov: I think—

[
A scream, distant and muffled
]

Kozakov: Did you hear that? I think that was Lauraine, Dr. Durant’s assistant. Last I saw her, she was running toward Lab D. I am hidden in the chemical storage room. I do not think the others know I am here, but I am going to keep whispering just in case.

[
Ambient noise, 2 seconds
]

Kozakov: All these years and we still do not know the Titan’s purpose or where it came from. Dr. Simons has a crazy theory, but—

[
A metal crash, muted but not too distant
]

Kozakov: Give me a moment.

[
Clunk of the recorder shutting off, followed by clunk of the recorder turning back on
]

Kozakov: At least two of the others are right outside. From the sounds they are making, I am sure they are not in control of themselves. If they find me—

[
Rattle of a doorknob, and clunk of the recorder shutting off. Clunk of the recorder turning back on
]

Kozakov: Okay, they are gone. I think.

[
Three deep breaths
]

Kozakov: I am pretty sure that was Dr. Chambers and Dr. Winters. Are the others even still alive? Two of the lab assistants, Tina Powers and Robert Shepherd, died in the first hour. I was not there, but I saw their bodies later. It looked as if they had ripped each other’s throats out.

[
Ambient noise, 3 seconds
]

Kozakov: Dr. Daniels, our psychologist, tried to warn us. He even approached me again yesterday, but I brushed him off. He was right to be concerned. The craft is controlling people’s minds. We should have known it way back when I tried to drill into it. The screech we all heard that was not on the tape. It was in our heads.

[
A single huffed breath
]

Kozakov: Daniels is dead now, too. I saw his body stuffed into an open locker as I was searching for someplace to hide.

[
Ambient noise, 2 seconds
]

Kozakov: The last time I saw Dr. Durant, he had been taken over. Only there was no violence in his actions, just a laser focus as he actually opened a part of the craft and started working on something inside. We never even knew it had a door! When I tried to stop him, my mind was suddenly taken over, and the next thing I knew I was in the meeting room on the lower level.

[
A breath
]

Kozakov: Right. That is what I wanted to tell you. My slapped-together theory. It is better than nothing…I hope.

[
Clunk of the recorder shutting off. Clunk of the recorder turning back on
]

Kozakov: I do not think the craft is purposely making people violent, but I also do not think it cares one way or the other. My theory is that we all react differently to its mental intrusion. Some, like the two lab assistants,
are
violent. Some, like me and Dr. Durant, are compliant, and others are somewhere on the scale in between.

[
Ambient noise, 2 seconds
]

Kozakov: I just remembered. That kid, the one who found the craft. According to the report I read, he had died within hours of coming into contact with it. I do not remember any mention of violence, but maybe he did not have the opportunity. Or maybe he was the craft’s first attempt at contact.

[
Ambient noise, 5 seconds
]

Kozakov: Okay, new theory. This does not negate what I said before, but works in conjunction. That kid who found the craft—I wish I could remember his name—he was the first the craft tried to connect to, and since it had no practice doing so, things did not go well. It must have tried reaching out to the others who died, too, the man’s wife and…and…I cannot remember, but I know there were others. I am thinking that after these attempts failed, the craft went into some kind of safe mode, or…or…no, this is it,
observational
mode, meant to gather more information before it attempted to do it again. For whatever reason, it has waited this long for its second try.

[
Ambient noise, 1.5 seconds
]

Kozakov: No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not for whatever reason. I
know
the reason. My mind is…not working right.