January 16, 1978
It's been four months since the school year began. What a bunch of useless people Spencer got us. On top of that he sent me a note demanding that I look for someone worthwhile among the students to be placed as head researcher of his clandestine laboratory in Arklay's country house.
I've had enough of everything.
Marcus ignores me and the teachers keep lowering their standards given the obvious uselessness of the students. This shitty sociological experiment set up by fucking Spencer has been for nothing.
The other day I walked into Marcus's office while he was cleaning his gun and how cowardly of me not to have picked up one of the loaded ones to shoot myself, or to have him shoot me as part of his target practice.
And, to top it all off, I received a circular from Ashford telling us that they were going to lay off staff and freeze salaries as part of the umpteenth restructuring of the company.
I wish I could die right now.
January 25, 1978
I have had a serious talk with Marcus about the "quality" of our students. After reviewing all the files, we have concluded that the only ones who will have a minimal future at Umbrella will be Albert and William, William and Albert: the only ones whose files don't make you gag. Marcus has asked me to listen to them to verify our assumption and to notify Spencer that we may finally have a candidate for his mansion.
February 2, 1978
Scholar Will.
Practical Al.
Those two are complete opposites. One goes through life as a prissy know-it-all and the other as if he'll spare your life. The point is that they keep competing with each other for the prize at the end of the road. Since the rest of them are useless, the two of them have engaged in a ruthless and cruel cold war. They only need to come to blows. They barely speak to each other and in the dining room they each sit in a corner. It is quite entertaining to watch.
February 5, 1978
Marcus called me to boost the rivalry between these two. It's the first time in eons that James has shown an interest in anything other than his research and revolvers. Anyway, orders are orders. I am going to have them tearing at each other's throats.
Richard Miller