Entry Number 20
There have been significant complications regarding the transfer process from living machine to the human 'shells'. The larger construction equipment, naval ships and majority of the steam engines transfer have bore, unsavory results. There have been multiple theories regarding why only a select few of the machines transferred successfully. Some say that perhaps the vast stores of memories did not have enough storage room inside the replica brains we created. This may be the solution but there are some inconsistencies. The majority of the narrow gauge engines were successfully transferred and they are some of the oldest machine on the island.
As for the larger machines transferred, most of the ones that were successful suffered from a form of memory loss. At first this was incredibly helpful, making them even more obedient than they were before. But certain sights or sounds like a particular station or the sound of a animal cause them to endure some kind of seizure. Afterwards, pieces of memories began to reappear making them increasingly volatile. Luckily, there are much more efficient ways to dispose of them in there current state. Unfortunately there is something we forgot to factor. The shells somehow managed to retain the level of strength they had as machines making it difficult, but not impossible to train them. No pun intended.
Most of the shells have been taken off life support. We still have a good supply of living machines in storage so it's no grand loss. Though we would be more efficient in producing shells if we had th-
The ringing at the telephone broke the scientist of from his thoughts. He closed the journal and tucked it in his lab coat and when to answer the phone.
"Yes?"
"It's the subjects from the main lab. They've escaped the premise, destroyed the lab and injured Sir Topham."
"WHAT!" He yelled into the phone. That lab held at least a third of his greatest achievements and it was somehow destroyed by creatures not even accustomed to limbs.
"S-sir?" The voice at the on the end cracked slightly. "With Sir Topham gone, leadership transfers t-to you. What a-are your orders?"
He took a moment to compose himself from the outburst. "Find them. Start searching all the closest towns, they shouldn't be to hard to spot. And once you do, contain them separately and make sure they stay that was."
Before the other man could ask anything more he roughly hung up the phone. He packed up all of the noted scattered around his desk and and volatile chemicals he didn't need someone else to find. Checking over the lab one last time he grabbed his overstuffed suitcase he locked the door to his study.
"Oh, you're going already dear?."
He turned and gave the woman sitting in the armchair a bright smile. He walked over and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. "I'm sorry dear, but there's been a accident at work. I'm going over to see what happened."
The lady had fading blond hair that was more gray due to stress and age but she placed her book in her lap and smiled anyways. "Alright, but be careful out there."
"Aren't I always?" He called, already halfway down the stairs.
"And make sure to bring an umbrella, it's starting to rain."
The man simply rolled his eyes and walked through the door, not caring for her warning.
:===========:
The rain fell loud against the leaves. It wasn't a very strong rain but it was still uncomfortable feeling the water batter against Shale's jacket. She wiped her eyes and tried to find any kind of large, industrial building. It might have been more productive to try and ask Edward about where the facility was located but the red-head didn't care much for him shadowing her.
'How did I never notice something like this? A giant building can't be that subtle to build. Maybe they've got some kind of secret transport system? But what would they need it for, why waste all that time? Probably something illegal.' She mused as she wandered into the forest.
Her reason for spending her time in this miserable weather; mainly curiosity. Shale had seen what the side effects of street drugs had on people and whatever happened to Edward was more than that. Then again, you never know what you can find in the sewers. As bad as Shale had it, she was one of the luckier ones. At least she kept most of her common sense.
'That's got to be it' She smiled as a old broken down house came into view. The windows and door were blocked of with wood and the ones that weren't were smashed. It was actually something she had heard some of the rich kids dare each other to get close to but she never gave much though into them. She grabbed the handle but the door was locked.
'Should've expected this' She rolled her eyes humorously. She grabbed the smaller knife from her boot and jammed it into the lock. Shale didn't actually know how to pick locks but to her it was all just a matter of luck. Eventually she stopped twisting the knife and tried to turn the lock again.
'click'
'I probably could've kicked the door down, but why make an unnecessary mess. Besides, if whoever made this building came back for it's contents then they would know someone was inside.' She ran inside and made sure to keep the door open in case it locked from the outside. Inside, it was surprisingly dry. There were some tables that were stained and covered shards of glass and the air was thick with dust. She hung her jacket up of a chair to let the water run of. She took a moment to check if her bag and the contents were dry. There wasn't much inside, a lunch pail filled with some bread and fruit, a half empty bottle of water and extra money.
The only thing that caught her attention was a sign of the back wall next to a metal door.
She walked up to get a better look. Reading the sign outloud, struggling to make out the words. "No un-authored pe - persons beyond this point?" She looked back to the door. 'Well, that's totally not obvious at all."
But she would have been better of listening to the warnings.
Inside was a smaller room with three glass tubes filled with some kind of pale liquid, one of which was broken spilling it's contents. Said contents being decaying bodies.
Pieces of there skin were floating inside the tube and one of the bodies eyes were still open, giving Shale the feeling of being watched. The tube that was broken let the body spill onto the ground and there were maggots already crawling inside it's skin.
What disturbed her more was that there was no smell. She knew what rotting meat smell like; a mix of thrown up, garlic, tar and a few drops of cheap perfume. But there was nothing. The only thing she could pick up was something industrial, rotting wood and rusting metal.
Shale tried not to stare at the decaying bodies as she looked around the room. Once she got over the shock there was some pretty useful stuff on the table. There was a corkboard with some old newspaper cutouts and what looks like a diary entry pinned on it. Below was a table covered with something, probably chemical residue. But there was a drawer filled with some old paper, pencils, a few weird vials and some pamphlets.
She tucked the pencils behind her ears and bandana, the appears she'd just read later but as for the mystery juice she wasn't sure what to do with. "Whoevers running this place might come back for these. Then again." She glanced back at the corpse for a moment. At this angle I noticed some markings on the backs of them. Pieces of there skin were floating around the two intact tubes but enough was still attached to be able to make out, numbers?
'Yea, a 1 and a 6.' Though the corpse that was rotting on the ground was to rotten to make out.
"Whatever the were trying to create, they definitely failed. And whoever that person was probably didn't have the highest moral standards if they were willing to leave there subjects just floating here for anyone to find.'
Shale stared back to the vials, They could be used as evidence. 'But they might have payed of the police to keep there mouths shut about this place. Still, I could use it as a bargaining chip for information - make it sound like some kinda drug. Or maybe I could, I dunow, make it into a bomb?'
"Wait, Edward had a number on his back. So was he one of the experiments? But what'd someone want with a bunch of grey bodies?" The red head decided to figure out everything else back at the treehouse. I closed the door and tried not to think to hard about those bodies, grey, hollowed eyes, I wonder if they- no stop there. Whoever they were, they're gone now.
Shale poked my head out the door and realized that it was now pitch black and it was still raining. 'Great, It'll be impossible to find my tree again and even if I do, forget about climbing. So I guess I'm sleeping here.
Her jacket was already pretty dry so she just slipped it back on and fell back against the table. Shale was a light sleeper and probably wasn't going to get any rest with all this rain so might as well read those pamphlets. The first thing that caught her eye was a clipping from a news paper. On it were pictures of a fat guy with a black top hat and suit scowling at the photographer in front some kind of station. The captions read "RAILWAY ON TRACK TO BANKRUPTCY". Most of the text was to faded or to small to make out but she could make out a few lines.
'Local railway controller; Sir Topham Hatt, has been struggling to maintain his position due to the rising prices in coal because of the fact that almost all of his engines are exclusively steam. While he was not available to comment on this article his secretary told us this. "Currently, Sir Topham is working on a solution. Though he's being rather secretive about it. Still, I trust his judgment" We've asked the drivers about what they think about this situation but there response was confusing. One of them, a fireman named Charlie had this to say; "Look, I don't really care-
Whatever was after that was to faded to make out so I just tried to piece together what was happening. 'Railways running out of money, some kind of project, this was the project? What were they even doing here?'
She shuffled through the yellowed papers again. Most of them didn't make much sense to Shale, several formulas, charts with the cost of some mechanical stuff filled with terms Shale didn't even try to understand and something about a "Transfer Sequence". It wasn't until she found the diary entry she found something useful.
Entry Number 12
Due to a recent boost to our departments research funds it was decided that another facility would be established. Of course I was selected to oversee the transfers of the equipment and made sure to cut any lose threads.
As for the shells, they have been 80% rendered and are currently kept on life support until a suitable host is selected. The ones we have in storage currently are two small tank engines, one diesel engine and a front-nose lorry. They have been rather noisy since confinement but nothing that couldn't be fixed.
I'm rather curious to see what fruits this may bear. If this trial is successful then we will be permitted to begin transferring the others. Though I question how the Controller will handle the press when they inevitably notice the states of the machines, being that out island is notorious for having the largest collection of living machines.
Shale peiced together what she was reading. Whoever wrote this probably worked on these experiments, a lead scientist perhaps. Though he wasn't smart enough to leave his entry vague enough that the reader would assume it was something vaguely ethical.
'So someone was commissioned by the Fat Controller to create shells for his engines in order to lower the cost of running his railroad?' Her hand tightened around the hilt of her knife. 'Great, another rich bastard trying to fill his pockets with pounds with any means necessary. But if them if these experiments were all once engines then that would mean-'
"Edward was a engine?" Now she could remember why he felt so familiar.
