NO SUBJECT [CLASSIFIED] (Part 2)

Updated: Oct 12


Photo by Max Muselmann on Unsplash

Continued from Part 1

Sent: 8/1, 23:07

From: Frank

To: Mike


Subject: (no subject)


Why am I even sending these anymore maybe its all I can do

Sent: 9/1, 05:31

From: Frank

To: Mike


Subject: (no subject)


Days days days days daysss

Sent: 9/1, 13:10

From: Frank

To: Mike


Subject: (no subject)


jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Sent: 15/1, 10:53

From: Frank

To: Mike


Subject: Food Situation


You know it’s actually kind of comforting, in a weird way, to discover the kind of person you really are when push comes to shove. I’ve been a chemist for my entire professional life, but who would’ve thought I had the capacity for cannibalism all these years.


We have had no food for the last eight days. I don’t know how far you can claim the last vestiges of identifiably consumable objects in and around the office space were ‘food’, but in any case, it had all run out far too quickly. Even the few flies that we discovered dead on the floor were eaten. Nothing is left now. Water was shut off before we forgot to refill the water tanks. The toilet water is almost gone.


I don’t know why I did it, why I thought to go back to Tony. I think it must have started out as a morbid joke:


Imagine if I started to eat Tony. Wouldn’t that be funny? Wouldn’t that be funny? I think it would be funny. I think I’ll eat Tony.


And before I knew it, I was back at the wall. His face was slipping off when I arrived. When I poked him, it slunk off his skull entirely and landed on the floor with a wet clap. I stood there for a little while, just staring at his teeth. He has a cavity at the back of his mouth, did you ever notice that? I could see it even clearer the more his jaw gave in to gravity. I could see right through to the back of his throat, as well as the wall out the other side. Very curious injury, whatever caused it. Further down, his chest had collapsed in on itself. His ribs were acting as a cradle for whatever was left of his internal workings. Even his tongue had fallen down into his own stomach as the muscle fibres had disintegrated. I thought he was very spreadable. I imagine he would make for a lovely marmalade, one with lots of chunks and rind. The oddest part was that the slime that had been present before was no drier than when we first discovered him. It had persisted in its freshness. It was so curious I was tempted to take a sample back to the lab, but I had another idea first.


I don’t know why I felt compelled to lick it. Perhaps I was already insane from starvation; the mind shoots terrible thoughts through your head when you have nothing left to eat. This way was at least easier than strangling a co-worker. I dipped my little finger into a stray trail of it on the floor to test the consistency. It was like soft, cold snot, and as I brought it up to my lips it smelt of rotten eggs. It tasted like rank apples at first. I pulled my hand back away from my mouth to think again about what I was doing. Then I put them in again deeper, and sucked on my fingers like a baby at the teat. The effect it was having on me was quite disturbing, I must say, but at the same time I found to my disgust that I did not dislike it for overlong.


To summarise Mike, I spent about 5 minutes sampling different parts of Tony’s corpse. The chest cavity had the most pungent odour, but the sweetest taste. I also took a sample as well for testing in the lab so I can figure out what exactly has made Tony into the pile of goo (to use the medical term).

I found myself fully invigorated afterwards for some inexplicable reason, which is why I’ve managed to type out such a lengthy email to you this time. I haven’t told the others what I’ve done, but they’re definitely wondering how it is I’m suddenly so full of energy again.

Sent: 15/1, 14:09

From: Frank

To: Mike


Subject: Gurgling/ Starting to Die


I remember being in front of an interviewer, and they were asking me about why I decided to get involved in chemistry in the first place. She asked me what specifically drew me to this profession, what I hoped to accomplish over the course of my career. She asked that classic question, “where do you see yourself in 5 years?” and I remember thinking to myself: why do they always ask the same questions? How many times do they want to hear the same responses, before they decide this isn’t where they saw themselves in 5 years?


I told her that I saw myself working at a job I loved, helping to further our understanding of science, and making the world a better place with each new discovery. She smiled at the response but there was something else behind her eyes. They didn’t smile along with the rest of her. They looked cold, vacant, like she’d already lived my life and could only feel sorry for those she was encouraging to follow the same path. We carried on and finished the interview a little while later. I got a call a few weeks later from the same person, letting me know I’d have the job if I wanted it. But I never shook the impression that the interviewer was soulless. Not in a noticeable way, not as if she had a thousand-yard stare or never blinked. No, it was more like… like she was on autopilot I suppose? Like she was performing a role, like she was playing the part of a person that cared for the people she came into contact with each day, but had forgotten how to play that part well. I saw who she was behind those eyes. I looked in the mirror earlier and saw those same eyes in myself. I got them from Tony.


Where do I see myself in 5 years? Dead. Dissected in a jar, maybe. As a footnote in a classified document. Maybe a case study if I make a particularly exciting corpse. Compared to how the rest of the team is looking, I can’t imagine anyone thinking to use one of their corpses as anything except fertiliser. Poor quality fertiliser. They’re starting to die off now, one by one. It’s surprising that they’ve not resorted to cannibalism yet. I haven’t told them anything about Tony. I’m not sure I’m going to, either. I’m going to wait a while and see if any of them get the same idea.


That gurgling noise is back again. I can hear it faintly, blending in with the humming emergency lights. Might as well investigate at this point. Nothing else to do here, right Mike?


(Continued in Part 3)

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