7 Ordinary Days

This diary was found open on a laptop with instructions on where to post it and how. The owners identification was never uncovered, as the laptop was found in a public library. Patrons who were at the library on the day the laptop was discovered stated that they never saw anyone come in with it, or leave without it. No body was discovered.

The Diary
Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity. – Hanlon’s Razor

An ordinary day. Any worthwhile journey starts with an ordinary day. This is something I used to hear the writers at my work say. I was a graphic programmer. At the height of my hubris, I considered myself a god of sorts. It was easy to let the ability to make entire worlds go to your head…but…come to think of it…I wonder if I was the only one to take such a view of that work. But I digress, as I have come to do quite frequently in my old age. Now…where was I…oh yes…an ordinary day. The ordinary days of my life stack in the thousands…that is to say, very few of my days were weird. Though my nieces and nephews…my brothers and sisters view my loss of memory with trepidation, I see it as a blessing. The ordinary days are all that remain for me, and all that I can remember is ordinary.

I live 358 days out of the year. 359 if it’s a leap year. Although I do not remember why…or how…a week is always missing from my life. One week for each year that passes. I don’t think it was always this way, but it is not for me to know…what was that old saying? Ignorance is bliss….ah…and such bliss. I know that I don’t know, which is a paradox to most. If you know that you don’t know, wouldn’t you want to find what you have forgotten? I have tried, though only once in a foolish attempt to regain what could be a whole year of my life, and I now understand, if only at the most subconscious of levels. You see…when I was younger…in my thirties…I kept a diary still, somehow believing that the events of my exceedingly ordinary life would be of interest to others. I’ve tried to read over my diaries to see where this phenomenon started. They’re all stored on a text file on my desktop. Though I have stopped making entries, as the boldness of my youth has left me, the file stands at 27,259 pages…with just over one week completely invisible to me. The text stops suddenly at the end of July and begins again after the first week of August. A large break exists where the text should be, and highlighting the area suggests that I have something written there. I do not remember what happened during that week. I do not want to remember. I don’t know why I don’t want to remember…but it feels as if I have put a large locked door there. I dare not open it, as the strength and intensity of the door is far too overbearing. This same emptiness repeats at that same week every year, but this is the only year where something was written. The rest is perfectly ordinary.

I have learned, by showing this to others, that the text exists in the blank space, for anyone but me.

I am going to die today. It’s not something I fear, and I know it will be peaceful, as all that could be anything but, has been spent. I don’t know why I know this, but I know this. I am supposed to, even though I am not. I also know, that on that balancing second between life and death, when I am transitioning between worlds, I will see what has happened, and I will know the truth. This is the price I must pay for the ordinary life I lived. A life made to remain perfect ignorant of what I know…of what we know. I also know, that I must share my experience. I have yet to let anyone read beyond but a fragment of that first week, and all that was read was without meaning. (Although I know that is a lie to say it has no meaning). If you think I have done this with malice, then I am truly sorry, please know malice was not my intent. If you think I have done this with care, then I am truly sorry, as this holds no such soft place. If you think I have done this with ignorance, then I am truly sorry…because you are right.

31-July-ᆠ⋼ấು 08:47 A.M. Good morning Diary… Another ordinary day… Actually…not really. As you know, the crunch time has hit, and it’s hit me rather hard, I’ve had to take a leave of absence due to stress. HR and my boss weren’t happy about it in the least, but I couldn’t stay in the office for another hour, let alone a week. I promised I would still assist with the programming, but it’s all been a bit too much, too soon. My parents only passed two weeks ago…and my brothers and sisters still won’t talk to me. They know I’ve never been social, and it seems they intend to help keep it that way. At any rate (as I’m so prone to saying), I’m going to take today to relax and work on the main batch executable they sent me. It appears…somewhere deep inside, there is a call line referencing a file path that doesn’t exist…the program launches, but after a couple minutes eats up huge amounts of memory. Our code checkers are listing that call line as the number one problem…the only really strange things about this error are the facts that one…it’s not putting up an error like it’s supposed to. Two, each checker put out a different number for the call line that is causing this…which shouldn’t be possible. On a happier note, Rose asked to meet me for coffee; I could use a break with a good friend.



02:07 P.M. I met Rose for some coffee…but she seemed distant. She kept talking about something she realized that was distracting her. I asked what it was but she just smiled at me and told me not to worry. I asked her how the office was…she didn’t answer, she instead asked me to pick her up from work in three days. I asked why, she said her car would be in the shop and it was important that I come and get her. She wouldn’t say why it was important, just that it was. The weirdest was when we left. I asked if she was alright again…she just said she was really sorry and that I’d see her in four days…she’s always been a bit eccentric but..this? Oh well, I just hope she is okay.



01-August- ᔩ▪౱ʎ 03:29 A.M. …this is too weird for words. I worked on that executable for hours only to find that only two of my changes actually did anything. This mystery file is still being referenced, (I tried to read out what the reference was but every time I started to, the line would vanish and appear somewhere else) however, the data size being pulled is larger, but now it’s starting to form an image of some sort. I tried compiling it but it crashes every time…I’ll keep working on that. I finally fell asleep at about 1:30…absolutely no dreams…not even a fragment…very odd for me…but that doesn’t come close to what I woke up to… The sheets of my bed have changed. I know I put the other set on…I changed them two weeks ago…all my doors and windows are closed and locked…my home security system doesn’t show anything wrong…which surprised me greatly…because I don’t have a home security system.

08:12 A.M.

After last night…I called ADT to ask them what was going on with the home security system, as I had never had it before. This came to a surprise to the clerk. He asked for some information that was printed on the system, and pulled up my account. I wasn’t aware that I had an account. He said that I had one for the last five years. An even greater shock. I apologized and told him I’d been having amnesia. He hoped that I felt better soon and apologized. I said it wasn’t his fault and hung up.



10:21 P.M. Today has been somewhat productive. I managed to cut access to that mystery file to half what it was. It took a lot of work but by placing tight quotas on resources I’ve managed it. It’s not fixed, but it’s a step in the right direction. I’m going to bed early though, things have been strange recently, I think the rest could do me well.



02-August-ȧĈ˺o 03:28 A.M. I had an awful dream…and…I think I’m cracking…I was dreaming I was in Rose’s bed…looking up at her ceiling…there was a sound…building in the back of my head…a clicking sound…tapping in the background and echoing in my head…I felt myself slowly sit up. There was a single door in front of me…I remember there being more doors in her room. On the other side…it was pitch black….as I walked closer…the clicking in my head became louder…until it became a fast and continuous pounding in my head…it ached as if it was going to split down the middle. Through the doorway was a short hallway leading to a larger room…nothing like Rose’s apartment…where I saw her facing me…standing in the middle of the room holding a gun to her head. She looked calm…and she was trying to say something to me…but I couldn’t hear over the booming clicking in my head…She shot herself. Pieces of skull and brain matter sprayed and scattered across the room and onto my face…I doubled over and vomited…when I looked back up…she was standing…looking away from me…the blood was still everywhere…and there was puke on my chin…I stumbled over to her and tried to turn her around…her face…her smile had been replaced…with what looked like a smile cut out of a bad modeling magazine…but her eyes…they seemed calm at first…but as I kept looking…deeper…I felt something…something greater than madness…a deep well of it…I’m not sure which was more horrifying…the twisting darkness and horror that was locked behind those eyes…or the calm that was smoothed over them. I shot awake at that point…but I wish I hadn’t. My computer was running…it shouldn’t have been. I turned on my TV…and logged into my account…my background had been changed…It was an image of Rose…a second after she had shot herself in my dream…written around her in bold…”I’M SO SORRY” I immediately ran to the bathroom as I felt myself beginning to throw up…I made it just in time…when I looked up I could see the blood and skull and brain matter on my face…I wiped it…and I saw it on my hands…felt it on my hands…I could smell it…death…I blacked out…I woke up a couple minutes ago…there was no blood on me…and no vomit in the toilet…when I walked over to the computer screen…my background had returned to an image of HAL9000 again.



11:22 A.M. After last night I’ve started going to psychotherapy. My first session is today at 4…I’ve spent the rest of my morning working on dll and system reference files for the game…work doesn’t really have me stressed…I just appear to be having psychotic episodes…I don’t think anything like this ran in the family…at any rate…I’ve abandoned the concept of doing any work today…and I don’t think anyone would blame me for it.

06:34 P.M. The therapist helped a bit. Explained how the events that happened when I awoke could have been caused by remnants of various stages of sleep…I still find it odd that I turned on the computer and logged in in a sleepwalk state…but…it happened. I feel like I should be able to sleep tonight…I have to pick up Rose tomorrow.



03-August-Ȫ᫄Ⓡτ 01:31 P.M.

I got a text from Rose around 10:20…much earlier than I expected…and…well…I just hope I’m still having that nightmare. When I got to the office, it was completely empty. I looked around for a while inside…nothing. There was a note on my desk however…in very large type “I’M SO SORRY’…it was face down on my desk. It was date stamped…03-August-ἏሲỐ↉10:21 a.m. just after Rose texted me. I tried calling her phone but it said it had been disconnected. Then I started contacting my coworkers…I called Bill first…that was the only person I had to call. He told me that the office was closed for today and the rest of the week. Apparently, late last night, Rose was found in her apartment…dead. A point blank gun shot to the head. The police said that it must have happened yesterday…about 2:10 in the morning. The angle made it unlikely that it was a suicide, it was done like an execution…shot in the back of the head…Bill also said the police had been looking for me, but that I was never at the apartment…which is very strange, because I haven’t left in two days. Wait…I hear knocking. I’ll be back later hopefully.



11:59 P.M.

Insval; return ERROR000001-ref file not found, check connection Checkingcheckingcheck- Connection re-established. Inscom; return printsum; fline



04-August-Ǒƒ˱{ 06:00 A.M.

…I was in a cell…now I’m home. They were holding me for being uncooperative. I don’t an alibi and apparently I’m a prime suspect because I had been seen on a date with her. I said it was just a coffee…they said it might be just a motive. I feel like for the past couple days someone (something?) has been pulling the strings of my life…I have gaps in time...that I have no memory of doing anything, especially when I’m sleeping, but things are happening…the sheets. The inexplicable security system. …the dreams…that same dream. It’s every night now. But the computer monitor...changing like that. It’s more than I can bear at times.



06:35 A.M.

I started reading back over my records of the last couple days…someone has been tampering with my computer…I’m hoping it wasn’t me. It seems yesterday, after I had been arrested as a suspect in the murder of Rose someone put an entry in. I can’t read it though…it’s time stamped like I normally do, but just blank space…I tried removing the blank space, but the second I hit backspace or delete…Word crashes. I’ve also noticed, that the year on my date stamp has become corrupted…it’s just a series of symbols even though I know I typed in ሲἏᦔ↮. I’m not sure what to make of this. The game executable has also been heavily modified…It says there have been 946 changes in the executable since the mystery entry late last night. I’m installing cameras today to find out who is doing this.



06:01 P.M.

I’ve installed security cameras outside and inside. I have everything under surveillance. I’ve even hooked into a spare computer that is completely offline. I’m hoping this will keep it from being interfered with.

07:22 P.M.

I found a gun in my pantry…a 9mm just like what I saw in the dream…it was wrapped in a white handkerchief…that is now blood red where the gun was wrapped…did I kill her? I’ve started writing this on a spare computer with no wifi card or hardwire. I can’t risk the police reading this anymore.

YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE YOU KILLED ROSE

05-August-⊸✏ᨊᅜ 45:39 A.MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM…

I watched them. I watched my tapes from last night. Some of them. I had to stop. I saw it fluctuate. Everything. Matter…time…everything. The time stamps flutter randomly. The video cuts…between segments of the correct time. The only thing that follows chronologically, is the typing on my keyboards. The one in my room turned on in the middle of the night as I slept…it started editing the program. Windows flashed on and off the screen and the keys on my keyboard flew. No sound though, no, never any sound. The computer that now holds this. My diary…typed in a regular pattern…I had to watch it a couple times to see it…it was typing something very clearly…You Killed Rose. I also noticed…most disturbingly…that for 5 hours…I wasn’t in my house. Anywhere. I was just gone. I have the strangest feeling in my thoughts…the police are coming. I should go to sleep.

06-August-ᛖἒ‾╖ 2:22 P.M.

I’ve killed them. The police. They were asking me to come with them…but I didn’t answer. So they came in. And I showed them. I showed them the truth. How it all comes together…the code behind reality. And they died…but it’s okay. Because they’ll go away. The bodies always do. They take up space, and nothing is infinite. People say that, but they never understand. Nothing. Nothing is infinite. It goes forever. I’m going to work now. I’ll be back later diary!

11:59 P.M.

I put her picture on their computers. Now I know where it came from. I can see it. The formula that is our existence. How puny and meaningless we are. How easily we’re replaced. That’s why I kill them. We are so fragile. I was foolish to think I controlled a world with my codes and lines. As how much control does the controlled have? I also know why I’m free…I can touch their code. Now that I can see it. I can change it. It scares them. I see them...sometimes. They don’t hide in crowds…they watch them. People watchers. Rose knew them too. Thinking back, they were watching us at coffee. That’s why she died. They made me kill her.

07-August-ሲ᱿᱿᱿ ᱿᱿:᱿᱿ ᱿.᱿.

They’re here. All around my house. I can hear them. I can smell them. They stink. They smell like ammonia and rubbing alcohol. I see their shadows. Time has stopped here…It moves around me but I stand still. I only guess that It is still August 7th. My mind is fragmenting. It’s all Roses fault…she brought them here…I see only theirs. It’s one face. They all look the same now. They don’t need to hide. They’re here for me…oh god they’re here for me. They stand at my windows and look in. They knock on my door all the time. I can only think of them. They will break in. They will pour in like a torrent of emptiness. They are empty. I tried to hurt one. I stabbed it (her? Him?). The knife stayed in its side, but it didn’t bleed. It just looked at me. Bits of my former sanity slip in and out. Their pull…or…whatever they use has faded. Must keep watch. You must keep watch. They have…dark…dark eyes… They dress in dark clothing…not suits…just…I’m not sure…my mind feels like an oiled and weighted ball…I cannot keep a grasp. They don’t smile…or speak. They just stare. They have 14 fingers…7 on each hand. They’re pale. Too pale. But they look human. I never noticed. I can hear them now. They sound like…static…I can’t…I can’t…they’re inside…I can’t think…they’re overhwleming yhtoughts.

I’ve locked myself in my bedroom. I can hear buzzing outside. The frame shows no light thorugh it. I apologize for my misspelling but I can’t stop shaking. Autocorrect don’t fail menow. Only enough time for a warning. They change things…small things when they take notice of you. A pan will move from one counter to another. Small things. Things we dismiss. But then we notice…then THEY notice. Then it gets worse…They live off our brainwaves...those of fear… confusion… They will hunt us all. They will hunt us all. We can’t fight them if we don’t know them. Think of them. Focus. It will draw their attention but you can remain sharp. I only iwhs I knew sooner. I must hid this form them. They don’t know our coding well enough to find this. I hope I can remember to put this online. I was stupid to think df8907upr0894[g-ymhn

Yes. You were.

Encrypting… Encrypting…

08-August-ᱛᱛᱛᱛ 6:30 A.M.

Good morning Diary… Another ordinary day… Actually…not really. It seems my date stamp is on the fritz. We just started crunch time on our project at work. We got a new temp employee, she’s supposed to stick with us for the rest of the year, her name is Rose, she has been a huge help.

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