12.1.2087 by TheStillSilence

Chapter One

Dec 1, 2087

Hello. My name is…well that’s not important right now. I’m in a hurry, so I’ll make this brief. I think I may have just discovered the cure for gemophilia. I can’t say that much at this point-I’m being watched, and I think they’ve posted bees all around my perimeters- but first I need to get to a safe place, somewhere where I won’t be tracked.

Dec 6, 2087

Right now I’m at Stephen Carwright’s basement. He lives outside the Frontiers, so I know they have no airaids or bees out here. There is no fear of being tracked either, for rarely does anyone venture outside the Frontiers: the air isn’t safe, and the incessant possibility of dune storms and scorpions keeps away any adventurer or hormone-infested teenager seeking thrills.

Now that I’m safe- or as safe as I can be in Mecacolia- I’ll try to fill in some blanks. I’ll start with where I left off. My name is Amelia Karcwic. I used to work for the Foundation of Engeneeric Studies and Limitation of Free Air Corporation. I spent 15 miserable years in that place; creating formulas for inhumane and enigmatic use by the Coastal Spies- those brood-faced, broad eye-browed, square-shouldered monks of torture. Never once did I hear a word come out of them that didn’t have acid and vile dripping from every pore of their meaning and unmeaning.

Yet despite all of the tactics and traditions of malice instituted by the Coastal Spies, a few of us didn’t give in, but rebelled- silently and within the shadows of our own mind,-but now is not the time to go into that.

In short, I faked my own death to escape, yet I became a prisoner in my own life- and until a few weeks ago, would just as rather have killed myself. That’s when I began researching the gemophilia epidemic. At first, I seemed to be getting nowhere- just like the rest of the other 20,000 who had tried before me.
Then I came across moonera; a substance naturally found within olive plants. How the idea ever came into my head shall remain as well-known as the precise second Mecacolia was formed. But the idea seemed new and virgin, and shone with the light of possibility.

Now I can’t be sure that it works, exactly yet. The countless number-crunching and more than countable formulas plugged into my database prove that it works, but I’ve come to sidestep those and rely only on pure visual, experimental proof.

For this reason, I am going to make a fanatical attempt- going back to how the myths say they used to perform experiments and gather data hundreds of years ago- I am going to test my formula on a live human being.

Dec 14, 2087

I think I may have found a test subject. After searching for over a week (though my choices were limited), I unwillingly came back to my first instinct. This test subject will now be referred to as Number 374.

I will begin experimentation on her next week exactly, on Dec 21, 2087.

Dec 16, 2087

I will begin experimentation soon. My blood tingles just thinking about it. Visions of success and failure plague my nightmares; yet neither scare me, both possibilities chances to advance and break the walls of their regime.

On a lighter note, I think it is deservant to mention Carwright. For purposes of there being no uncertainty, I should justify and verify my situation with respects to him and living/working arrangements.