Log-1A

Hello Log!

BEN: What’s the right way to start one of these?

...

My name is Ben, I’m thirteen, and I work at my local church here in Red Lake, Ontario…It’s the year nineteen thirty...two?..uhh, what else... I like the color orange, I like to plsy sports, my favorite animal is an elephant…oh, and I’m living during the end of the world.

BEN: I just traded for this recorder, since my grandpa told me I should start keeping a diary, but I never liked writing, so I figured it’d be easier just to record myself. I should give some context. Well, really, it all started just after I was born, fifteen years ago. The world was at war. Most of the fighting was over in Europe. They fought with guns and tanks and airplanes, until a scientist invented a new kind of gas – one that was meant to win the war. Except, when it was released into the air, it mixed with the atmosphere, and spread all over the world. Grandpa says it took only a day or so for the air to turn bad, and two days before the government collapsed and almost everyone was gone. The gas is toxic to breathe in, and if you breathe in a lot of it, you don’t last for long. I’m not sure how we survived, my Grandpa said it was because he was able to seal up the house fast enough. My pastor, Gabriel, says that the gas was sent down by God to punish us for fighting with each other in the first place.

BEN: I hope he forgives us soon.

BEN: Nowadays things are different - It’s safe to go outside for a little while, provided you're breathing through some kind of filter - such a damp piece of cloth, though even then it can get hard to breathe if you stay out there too long. But what you really have to watch out for are storms - Grandpa says that the gas collects in clouds, which makes them too heavy to float in the sky, and when the wind stirs them up into storms, not even a gas mask is a guarantee that you’ll make it out alive. They say one whiff of the gas in a storm is all it takes...

*A long pause. There is only the sound of wood occasionally creaking*

BEN: I should probably water the plants.

*A wooden door, then a screen door, opens, followed by the sound of gentle wind and light footsteps. The sound of water being poured out of a watering can*

*Ben’s voice is muffled somewhat by the wet cloth around his face*

The gas isn’t all bad, though. The plants grow really fast and giant now. Grandpa says it’s because the chemicals used in the gas originally came from fertilizer. And while plants are great and all, what I’d really like to see are some animals. Grandpa used to be a hunter, and he told me about the times he’s hunted foxes, pheasants, deer, even a moose, once. I’d love to see one…any animal, really. But they’re all gone now. There are a few people in town who claim they’ve seen a squirrel or chipmunk - one even claimed to have seen a snake, but I’m not sure if I believe them. Me and grandpa have been looking for years, and if we haven’t found anything, who can?

I, uh, realize that you can’t see anything that I see, so I’ll describe it to you.

It’s kind of like we’re living in a dream, like we got lost in a fairytale. There’s always at the very least a light fog, though occasionally it becomes so thick that you can’t even see your own feet. The plants - vines, bushes, flowers, trees - have grown over everything; the houses, the streets, all of it. There’s no point in trying to trim it back; it’ll grow back to where it was within days.

Grandpa and Ollie talk a lot about how quiet it is now. I’m jealous of them – apparently the world used to be alive with the sounds of birds, bugs and animals. Now, it’s just gray silence, interrupted by howling winds…It really makes me wonder what it was like, y’know, before all this. Sometimes I can get Grandpa to tell me about my parents–I never met them, they had me before this all happened, then about a year or so after I was born they went on vacation to Mexico. They were both zoologists, actually, and they met through their work…it was when they were in Mexico that the gas was released, and so that was the last time any of us saw them…

Grandpa and Ollie tell me to be realistic, but I still pray that somehow they’re still alive.

Maybe the gas didn’t reach Mexico, or maybe they were able to seal up a shelter in time–who knows!

*Ben lets out a rattling cough*

BEN: Ow--my throat. Let’s go back inside.

Doors open and close again, and suddenly the sound of wind stops.

BEN: I’m not sure what else there is to talk about! I’ll keep recording these, though. Maybe I could interview some of the others that live here like the Pastor or my friend Elliott, or I could even show–

*A distant door swings open, then slams shut. A voice of a man just barely an adult calls out*

Ollie: Ben!

BEN: Huh? What? What's wrong?

OLLIE: We have to go. Now.

BEN: What do you mean? Go where?

*Ollie breathes heavily as the sound of rummaging around is heard*

OLLIE: We’re leaving Red Lake. For good.

*Ben raises his voice, sudden panic beginning to set in*

BEN: What? Why?! What about Grandpa? What about everyone else?

*There’s a moment of silence, followed by the sound of footsteps on creaking wooden boards. Ollie then begins to speak softly to Ben*

OLLIE: Ben, listen to me…Grandpa’s gone, okay? I’m sorry-

BEN: …What? No he, what do you mean - who would want to hurt Grandpa?

OLLIE: Listen! I saw him with my own two eyes. The Pastor and some of the others, they - they killed him, Ben. And we need to leave now or else the same will happen to us.

*Sobbing is heard. It’s unclear who it’s coming from*

BEN: No, no…This is a joke, this is a joke right?

OLLIE: I really, really wish it was, Ben.

BEN: But, the gas…how’re we going to be able to leave?

*The shuffling of cloth is heard*

OLLIE: I got these.

BEN: Gas masks? How–you–you stole them, didn’t you-

OLLIE: It doesn’t matter now, we need them, and we need to go. Get your things and let’s go before they get here.

BEN: O-okay.

Log-1A

[Original Log Date Estimation: Approx. 14th of March, 1932]

Beginning of Log-1. (Note: The following is a written manuscript copied to an electronic medium, with most of the original voice recordings having been lost to time. Salvaged audio will be provided when possible. The names of voices recorded in the log has been added post-manuscript for ease of reading.)

¤XNdgwC##((recovered)Mar-12th-Sermon).mp3

-OT2=P((recovered)my_wind_recording!).mp3