[BEGIN LOG 1]
The tape recorder is switched on. Officer Zhou, walking on metal surface, clears his throat.
Zhou: This is Officer Connor Zhou, of Mobile Task Force Gamma-691, "When Something Interesting Happens". It's too dark for a good video and I lost my main light, so I'm using the tape recorder. I heard it served Mx. Ford well on their expedition, and if you don't know who that is… well, I'll be too dead to care.
Zhou: I appear to be stuck in an Olney ironworking facility in the town of Starling, Mississippi. Specifically, I appear to be stuck in a basement space. This is apparently where seafood monsters have been known to congregate.
Zhou sighs, remaining silent for several seconds, before groaning in apparent frustration.
Zhou: I have a partner. Officer Efrain Rodríguez. I told him to follow me in if nothing happened. Obviously, something happened, so he probably hasn't followed me inside. You can probably find him in the nearby village of Whitewater, one word, not to be confused with the… the "school" nearby.
Zhou: In the meantime, thank you for rescuing me.
Several seconds pass, before Zhou laughs derisively. Further away, the sound of creaking machinery can be heard. The tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 1]
[BEGIN LOG 2.1]
The tape recorder is switched on in what sounds to be a low-capacity factory floor. Machinery runs with significant squeaking, suggesting a general lack of maintenance.
Zhou: This Officer Connor Zhou. After several hours of tunnels, I've found myself on what looks to be the factory floor. This is in-spite of the fact that I should be several stories underground by now.
Zhou: Some of the machinery is running, but I don't see anyone running it. Most of it isn't. When Mr. Ngo talked to us on what Olney wasn't, he never mentioned it was this run-down.
Zhou pauses for several seconds.
Zhou: … maybe I'm just not in Olney anymore.
He sighs.
Zhou: Regardless, this is a peculiar departure from the last few hours. If the tunnels weren't cramped with crates, it was carts. If not carts, machinery. Around an hour ago, I had to take off my pack and squeeze through crates sideways. To find myself in a relatively open piece of factory floor… it's a welcome change.
A pause.
Zhou: On the other hand, I can no longer see the ceiling.
[END LOG 2.1]
[BEGIN LOG 5]
Officer Zhou appears to be navigating a crowded room with concrete flooring.
Zhou: If you haven't seen an actual factory, you'd be forgiven if you thought it's a giant metal box with catwalks and machinery. Actual factories are a bit more complex, and depending on the function you might even see open air. In this case, I don't see open air. I barely see the machines.
Zhou pauses, grunting as he seems to squeeze through a tight space.
Zhou: I don't see people, either. Maybe it's been automated, maybe not. But some of these machines aren't working, don't look like they can work. Some of them block the machines that still work. This… this "factory", for lack of a better word, it could seriously do with a human presence.
Something squeaks against the floor as Zhou pushes through his current obstacle. He briefly stops.
Zhou: … I don't know how long I've been walking. It feels like I only read about factories this large in Asia. Those… the ones the media points to, when it wants to impress schoolchildren.
Zhou remains where he is for a few seconds more, before continuing.
Zhou: I expected something more sinister, I'll admit. Slave lines. Suicide nets. Blood dripping from the gears. Ngo looked like a broken man, and talked like a slimebag. How does that happen to a man?
Zhou: Mm. I think I'm starting to ramble.
The tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 5]
[BEGIN LOG 6]
The tape recorder is switched on to a faint buzzing noise. The sound of machinery cannot be heard.
Zhou: I don't know where I am. Now, when I say that, I don't mean it in the sense that I don't know where I am in this factory, which is still true. I mean I'm in a break room.
Zhou: The room's a little wider than the tunnels, and not nearly as long. There's a conference table, no chairs, mini-fridge in the corner, a large… dresser? Hm. Corkboard on the wall, empty as of now, but a few pinpricks here and there. Someone's put a cross up, so I have to assume this… "American Christian Ministries", whatever, has its fingers here.
Officer Zhou groans.
Zhou: It's been… it has to be "days" by this point. I think I'm entitled to—
Zhou cuts himself off as the muffled sound of footsteps and indistinct conversation can be heard. After a few seconds, Zhou hurries over to what is most likely the dresser, pulling it open and stepping inside before closing himself inside of it.
Another door opens, and two figures enter the room.
Unknown: Okay, Rockwell, why don't you tell me what you were thinking? I'm having trouble.
Rockwell?: Well, again, I've got to protect my church. That man's got serpent in his blood, and you expect me to part the veil for that?
Unknown: No, I didn't expect your homunculi to gas him like that. Not like that.
Rockwell?: Come off, brother. I know what I'm doing.
Unknown: Apparently not, because now we have a burnt-faced detective with one more mystery to solve. [indecipherable], Olney only sells because they're willfully ignorant of what we use BLACK FLY for, so what do you think happens when they find out?
Rockwell?: Well, the BLACK FLY they're selling ain't what comes out our bottles. Worst comes to, we pin it on Ms. Amherst.
Unknown: She's vengeful, you know.
Rockwell?: Bad at shaking the Feds off.
All remain silent for several seconds.
Unknown: … so what of his friend?
Rockwell?: Far as I know, he's been eaten by the Post-Industrial. God have mercy.
Unknown: That doesn't mean he's dead, Rockwell. Every SUSEOCT we haven't dealt with is another liability to the restoration, another variable in CALAMITY. We deal with him, or he deals with us. Need I remind you of Mr. Ford?
Rockwell?: That case, I'll leave it to the Host. Ain't like it's got much better to do.
Unknown: Mm.
The unknown entity sighs. All remain silent for several seconds.
Unknown: I'm still not happy about what you did to the fat one.
Rockwell?: What, tear the demon from his mind? Brother, I've been in the thick of it for 29 years. I know how to bring people to God.
Unknown: You worship a demiurge. Even I know that!
Rockwell?: I don't worship the Scarlet King.
Unknown: I wasn't talking about the Scarlet King. What, do you think the Church kept the Canaanites out? I've known them since they were called the Imitians, Rockwell, they're a bunch of fucking parasites that'll—
Rockwell?: Don't get so worked up about the Jews again, brother. 'swhat they want.
All remain silent for several seconds.
Unknown: Fine. We'll talk later. Let's just grab the Host and be done with it all.
A door opens, and the two figures move to exit the room. However, as one of them proceeds down the hall, the other pauses.
Unknown: … I still don't know what I'm going to do with you, interloper. Maybe I'll skin you alive. Maybe I'll leave it to the Host. Whatever you are, be a good pet and wait for us here, would you? It'll be a lot easier that way.
The unknown figure leaves the room.
Officer Zhou remains in the dresser for around two minutes, before coming out and hurrying out of the room through the opposite door. The tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 6]
[BEGIN LOG 15]
The tape recorder is switched on; however, Officer Zhou remains silent for around 25 seconds, before speaking. Dripping can be heard nearby.
Zhou: … when I say my father was a nationalist, I don't mean he was KMT. He was KMT, sure, but you don't leave Taiwan in '56 if you're still KMT. Although, maybe if you…
Zhou pauses.
Zhou: Point is, the man I grew up with cared more about the… the idea of China, moreso than Taiwan or the Mainland. I could see him fighting for the communists, royalists, the… you know, I'm still not sure why he moved to Houston.
Zhou: The house language was Mandarin; Fùqīn ignored you if you talked in English. We were atheist, but we still lit incense on holidays and funerals. On weekends, Fùqīn pulled us children aside for something between a Chinese history lesson and interrogation. (Zhou chuckles) Āyí joked that he'd never left the military. Not really.
A distant creaking noise echoes through Zhou's location. He speaks after a brief pause.
Zhou: I wouldn't say my father hated Christianity. Neither Mandarin nor English have the right words for how he felt. It was more, mm, a severe lack of something… close to the word "trust"?
Zhou sighs.
Zhou: Whatever it was, Fùqīn was absolute. No Easter egg hunts. No youth gatherings at the nearby church. No Christmas parties. No Christmas specials. I didn't know what the cross was until I was 12, and I grew up in Texas. I'm surprised the Foundation didn't recruit him, instead.
Zhou remains silent for around a minute.
Zhou: … was this what you saw, Fùqīn? You could have warned me. You could have warned me.
Several minutes of silence pass, interrupted only by the sounds of dripping water and distant creaking, before the tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 15]
[BEGIN LOG 17]
As the tape recorder is switched on, a squishing noise can be heard in the background. Officer Zhou does not speak.
A few seconds into the recording, the distant sound of something soft and wet thudding against the floor can be heard. This sound repeats at steady intervals for around half a minute, a little less than once per second, before stopping.
Suddenly, what sounds to be a crate is pushed violently across a concrete flooring, eliciting a muffled gasp from Officer Zhou.
All remain silent for several seconds.
The thudding sounds resume, quicker and louder than before. Occasionally they'll stop, and a crate will be struck, upended, or pried apart. As the thudding gets louder, so too does the squishing noise.
A nearby crate creaks, eliciting another muffled gasp from Zhou. The creaking continues until one of its faces is pried off, and something soft and wet climbs into the crate. The Unknown Entity begins striking the crate from the inside with a sharp implement.
A rat squeaks.
The Unknown Entity quickly leaves the crate. A wet crunching sound is followed by a shriek from the rat, then silence. Eventually, the wet thudding resumes, growing quieter as it continues, until it's not longer audible.
The tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 17]
[BEGIN LOG 21]
Officer Zhou begins speaking as soon as the tape recorder is switched on. He speaks uncharacteristically fast as he powerwalks across a concrete floor.
Zhou: This isn't a factory. Factories produce goods for use or consumption by humans or their pets. This produces nothing. It's a hole in the ground dedicated to swallowing people. Even The Factory, proper noun, that produces consumer goods. Maybe this was a factory, once, but not anymore. What is it now? What is it now?
The tape recorder is switched off immediately.
[END LOG 21]
[BEGIN LOG 22]
The tape is switched on near active (if rusted) machinery.
Zhou: … Warlord Style Rat, a la Olney.
Officer Zhou can be heard unzipping his pack, retrieving what sounds to be a distressed rat.
Zhou: In times of trouble in Manchuria, and there was a lot of trouble in Manchuria, people like my great-grandfather would produce all sorts of culinary innovations. While I may not be as skilled as him, I'm… very, very hungry, and I didn't think I'd have to pack many rations. You make do.
Zhou spits. A faint sizzling can be heard.
Zhou: I don't think it's common knowledge, but factory machinery can run up to… well, it's hot enough to cook. If you forgot to bring a campfire cooker to your industrial grave, store-bought is fine.
Zhou: Right, okay. The first thing you need to do is to make sure you're not hallucinating from hunger. When I poke the rat, it's real. (The rat squeaks) If it's not real, I'm screwed, so I have to hope it's real. Because violence appears to be the only language spoken in my living household, that means I have to kill it.
A wet crunching sound can be heard in tandem with a cry from the rat, followed by silence.
Zhou: …I…
Zhou's next words are spoken too quietly to be properly distinguished; however, the word "cannibal" can be discerned near the end.
Zhou: Right, okay, step two, recognize you're hallucinating from days spent in the dark. Realize that all of your fears aren't real. Realize your hunger is. Put the rat on the fucking burner (in Mandarin) or so help me, son, I'll lose it!
Zhou throws the dead rat onto a piece of metal machinery. For the next two minutes, only the sizzling of the rat, the grinding machinery, and Zhou's labored breathing can be heard. Just as Zhou begins sobbing, the tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 22]
[BEGIN LOG 25]
The tape recorder is switch on. Officer Zhou inhales as if about to speak, only to begin laughing. This continues for several seconds, ending with Zhou clearing his throat.
Zhou then makes another inhaling sound, only to begin laughing again. He laughs for another two minutes, interspersed with coughs and wheezing. By the end, it's unclear as to whether he's still laughing, or if he's begun weakly sobbing.
Regardless, Zhou pauses for several more seconds before speaking.
Zhou: It's a corpse.
The tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 25]