Property of Communication Verifier ████, SPC Corporation
rating: +51+x

I remember what it was like before this, but I keep on forgetting. Even when I remember.

I don't know how I remember, I simply do. The world has gone wrong; we have opened the Box. I do not know what the Box is, but I remember when the world was right. I remember when we fed bread to pigeons, not flying saucers. I remember when three came after two. I remember when South America didn't belong to Play-Dough soldiers.

This world cannot last long, how can it? Even the White House is bigger on the inside, because of…I can't remember. It is getting harder to remember what it was like before. One…eighty…four, I think. Yes, it must have been. What is that? I have to keep my memories together, I write them down, you see. So I can remember what it was like.

I don't think I worked at Salvicot Private Communications before we opened the Box. What is the Box? All I know is that we opened it. Who is we, for that matter? Fuck, my head hurts. It hurts to remember, I want to forget. This world is fine, I can settle for this.

The world is not fine. I know this, it's my job. Look at all the information everywhere, every day. Let me see, let me see…here we go, straight from Russia. Meat Contagion strikes in Aleysk, hundreds dead. There are pictures, too; a bit red, but we can edit it for page three hundred and seventy-six, I think. No, we can't, I have to remember. But why won't I forget?

We opened the Box and everything changed. For worse, for better? I don't remember, but I don't forget. This one's from the Immortal City. Funny folks, pay Mr. Salvicot a lot for child shipments. Or so you hear. And I hear everything.

Anyway, back to the news, Father of thirty-three dead, Blind involvement suspected. Suspected? It's all but certain. His eyes were closed and his neck was broken. Shit and blood all over the house. I hope the American Empire had a good reason for letting that thing loose.

It should have been contained. Like the Box. I think I remember who I am now. I am me. You can't close the Box. The Box is open and the Box is gone. We just have to carry on living.

Time to pack up for home, I suppose. My daughter's got a case of the clockworks, perhaps I'll get her a Mr. Headless.

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