[BEGIN RECORDING]
Better to do this now, I think. Better to get it done while I can still remember it all. It's been a long time since I read this file, longer still since that night in '26. It's been too long since people knew the truth of what we did, and what happened to Abaddon and One and the Administrator. Hell, if the amnestics have held up, I might be the only one left.
I have no intention of taking it to the grave with me. Not this.
One always was charismatic, that much is on record. That's why the Williams gave him the lead of Omega-5 over Two, even though Two had been with the Foundation longer. That's not to say that One wasn't smart, on the contrary. He was one of the more brilliant researchers I had ever worked with, even after all this time. He penned most of the reports for the work that Omega-5 did, even before we were a full-fledged team. Back when we were just a handful of junior researchers out of Site 17. He was eloquent and passionate and driven.
He was also always so detached. He loved his work, don't get me wrong, and the research was his greatest desire. But the direction of the Foundation, the stress on containment, he had no love for. He said to me, many times, that we were under-utilizing our assets. That we could provide better containment of anomalies if we weren't so damn afraid of them. Afraid to use some to contain others. He was the original designer of the Thaumiel classification, of course. Him and the Epsilon-2 research team. I think that's why he was so eager to jump at the chance to do what we were doing with 001.
It was unprecedented, the 001 project, but then, so was Abaddon. The logs here don't give the half of it, and the rest has been lost to history. With Abaddon we were wildly, hilariously outmatched. A group of decently funded scientists and armed guards against a small army of type greens, and we didn't even see the worst of them. Class II's and III's were more than a match for the best we had to offer, and this was nearly a half-century before we'd see the first Scranton anchor. Some reports claimed that the ruler was a Class V. If true, then he could've blinked us off the map if he wanted.
Abaddon was responsible for the complete destruction of three sites in 1922 alone. It wasn't just in sub-Saharan Africa, either, although we certainly didn't publicize that. There was Kingdom activity as far north as Gibraltar, and as far south as Madagascar. They would enter Sites, destroy everything, and leave with just a few objects. Shred the records too. And what were we to do? We had only just begun classifying reality benders, let alone combating them. Were they to make it to one of the larger Sites in Europe or the Middle East, it would have been a bloodbath.
If you're reading this, then you've read the logs about 001. You know what it does, how we built it. "The gun to end all guns." A weapon crafted out of human bodies and fire that could annihilate anything, anywhere, at any time, all with just a brief description. One was fascinated by it, by them. The children… I can still hear them screaming, screaming while we put them into the machine and pulled their souls out and replaced it with something… something else. But it worked, and One was so proud.
Then the time came to finish our task. The Administrator flew in from 17, one of a handful of times I'd ever seen him in public. As exciting an event as it was, the air was thick with solemnity. We all knew the gravity of our task, understood that we were sentencing hundreds to death. I think that, if we thought there was any other option, we might have shied away from the edge, but…
While we watched, One approached the glowing children and spoke the activation words. They were… glorious, in a way. The perfect balance of raw energy and human form. He leaned in to them and spoke the name of Abaddon's citadel, and then they burst with light and it was over. We had no way of knowing whether or not it worked, other than what we had seen in other tests, and yet, it felt finished. There was a feeling, like a collective breath had been released.
Then Williams disappeared, his clothes and protective gear falling to the ground in a heap, and as gunfire filled the testing chamber with smoke, we saw One sprinting towards an emergency exit and 001 glowing again. After this, it was all a rush. A quiet ride back towards our bunker as MTF teams rushed in to contain 001, a quick debriefing with other Command officials, questioning, searches, it all blends together.
One was gone, of course. They didn't find him, and they never did. He wasn't the only one who left, four other members of our team alone went with him. A number of other junior staff members, and then about half of the senior staff at Site 15, defected. All disappeared without a trace. Items too, right out of their cells. They discovered later that it was a long time in the making, and One had helped foster the 001 project just to meet this end.
We buried the children deep beneath San Marco, covered them in about 50 meters of concrete. They didn't say a word when we put them into lead bags, not that it would help. They didn't say anything when we separated them, and they didn't say anything when we closed the tomb on top of them. I doubt they'll ever say anything ever again. I have no doubt that they're still alive, though. The most powerful weapon in the world, armed and loaded, without its trigger. One has the trigger, and One alone. With any luck, it died with him.
In the end, we were left in charge, the eight of us who remained. We picked five more of the brightest we could find, and we pushed on. Abaddon was gone, without a trace. There was still so much to do, but we found a way to push forward. We made due, and in the end, we overcame.
I still think about the children under San Marco, from time to time. About the lengths we went to when we were panicked and afraid. About the things we did, even outside of the project. I think about One, too. I wonder if he found what he was looking for. I wonder if he thinks it was worth it.
I received a message through the secure system, nearly one year ago today. I said nothing then, but I'm going to add it to this file now. As for the contents, I'll let others decide. I've said enough.
[END RECORDING]
Command:\users\O513>_ upload C://messages/secure/1.txt
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FILE UPLOAD COMPLETE. NOW DISPLAYING 1.txt
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13.
When we were young, you asked me if I thought that our dreams would ever be realized. If we would ever be able to keep the world truly safe, and hang it up for good. You asked me if I thought we had the means to do so, or if the means existed at all. You asked me to what lengths must we go, what prices we must pay, what allegiances we must forge, in order to achieve perfection.
I did not know then. I do know now.
There will come a day when the secrets that the Foundation has tried to hide away will rise up from the shifting sands in glorious appearance, when the subjugated will break free from the bonds of their captors, and when the march of progress will no longer be impeded by those who would huddle around their fires, swatting at the ever growing shadows. On that day, the Foundation will be cast aside, and all that will remain is purpose.
Do you hear the Black Moon howling, 13? You will, soon.
Vive l'insurrection
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Command:\users\O513>_ full unlock
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PLEASE INPUT LEVEL 5 AUTHORIZATION CODE
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Command:\users\O513>_ 6471882-No Less Than Thirteen-4677484
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THANK YOU. THIS DATA FILE IS NOW UNLOCKED.
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Command:\users\O513>_ logout
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