My name is Georgia Mason. According to the time stamp on the field test unit (model XH-237, known for reliability and, God help me, accuracy), I legally died eleven minutes ago. But for now, at this moment, my name is still Georgia Mason, and this is I guess you can call this my last postcard from the Wall. There are some things you need to know, and we dont have much time.
As I write this, my brother is standing behind me with the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my neck, where a blast will sever the spinal cord with the smallest possible spray radius. In my bloodstream, a large dose of sedatives mixed with a serum based on my own immune system is running a race against the virus that is in the process of taking over my cells. My nose isnt clogged and I can swallow, but I feel lethargic, and its hard to breathe. I tell you this so youll understand that this isnt a hoax, this isnt some sophomoric attempt to increase ratings or site traffic. This is real. Everything I am about to tell you is the truth. Believe me, understand, and act, before it is too late.
If youre viewing this from the main page of After the End Times, youll see a download link labeled Campaign_Notes.zip on the left-hand side of your screen. Possession of the documents behind that link may be considered treason by the government of the United States of America. Please. Click. Download. Read. Repost to any forum you can, any message board or photo-sharing site or blog that you can reach. The data contained in those files is as essential to our freedom and survival as the report of Dr. Matras proved to be during the Rising. I am not overstating the datas importance. There isnt enough time for that.
Neither is there enough time for me to repeat the facts that are already codified and ready for you to download. Let this suffice for all the things I cannot say, do not have the time to say, will never say, and wish I could: They are lying to us. They are willfully channeling research away from the pursuit of a cure for this disease, and they are doing it under the auspices of our own government. I dont know who they are. I didnt live long enough to find out. Governor Tate served their interests. So, I regret to say, did Georgette Meissonier, previously a part of this reporting site.
They want us to stay afraid.
They want us to stay controlled.
They want us to stay sick.
Please, dont let them do this to our world. I am begging you from the Wall, because its all thats left for me to do. Its all I can do. Dont let them keep us frightened and hiding in our homes. Let us be what we were intended to be: human and free and able to make our own choices. Read what I have written, understand what they intend for us, for all of us, and decide to live.
They made a mistake in killing me because, alive or dead, the truth wont rest. My name is Georgia Mason, and I am begging you. Rise up while you can.
Mahir Im so sorry.
Buffy Im so sorry.
Rick Im so sorry.
Shaun Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry I didnt mean it I would take it all back if I could but I cant I cant I I I I I I I all fading words going cant do this cant Shaun please Shaun please I love you I love you I always you know I Shaun please cant hold on everything jfdh cant do this jhjnfbnnnn mmm have to my name my name is Shaun I love you Shaun please gngn please SHOOT ME SHAUN SHOOT ME N
TERMINATE LIVE FEED
RED FLAG DISTRIBUTION RED FLAG DISTRIBUTION RED
FLAG DISTRIBUTION
REPOST FREELY
BOOK V
Burial Writes
Ive spent my whole life imagining worlds other than the one that I was born in. Everybody does. The one world I never imagined was a world without a Georgia. So how come thats the world I have to live with?
SHAUN MASON
Im sorry.
GEORGIA MASON
It is the sad duty of the management of After the End Times to announce the death of Georgia Carolyn Mason, the head of our Factual News Division, most commonly called the Newsies, and one of the original founders of this site.
Ive been trying to find the words for this announcement since I was asked to make it, some three hours ago. The request came with a promotion to which I never aspired, and a position made bitter by the knowledge of what it cost. I would sooner have my friend than all the promotions in the world. But that option is not open to me, or to any of those who will mourn for her.
Georgia Mason was my friend, and I will always regret that we never met in the flesh. She once told me she lived each day hoping and praying she would find the truth; that she was able to keep going through all lifes petty disappointments because she knew that someday, the truth would set her free.
Good-bye, Georgia. May the truth be enough to bring you peace.
From Fish and Clips,
the blog of Mahir Gowda, June 20, 2040
Twenty-seven
Georges blood didnt all dry at the same rate.
Some of the smaller streaks dried almost immediately, staining the wall behind her ruined monitor. The gunshot collapsed the screen inward, safety-tempered glass holding its form as well as it could, even when the plastic casing shattered. It was like looking at some modern artists reinterpretation of an old-school disco ball. The partys in here, and were just getting started. As long as you didnt mind the blood on the glass, that was. I minded the blood on the glass. I minded the blood on the glass a lot. I just didnt see a way to put it back where it belonged.
The bigger splashes were drying slow and sticky, the color maturing from bright red to a sober burgundy, where they seemed content to stay. That bothered me. I wanted the blood to dry, wanted it to settle in funeral colors and stop taunting me. Im a good shot. Ive been on firing ranges since I was seven years old, in the fieldlegallysince I was sixteen. Even if the virus still allowed her to feel pain, George didnt have time for pain. It was just the roar of the gun, and then she was slumping forward, face-first on her keyboard. That was the only real mercy. She landed face-first, so I didnt have to see what Id so I didnt have to see. She didnt have time to suffer. I just have to keep telling myself that, now, and tomorrow, and the next day, for as long as I can stay alive.
As I write this, my brother is standing behind me with the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my neck, where a blast will sever the spinal cord with the smallest possible spray radius. In my bloodstream, a large dose of sedatives mixed with a serum based on my own immune system is running a race against the virus that is in the process of taking over my cells. My nose isnt clogged and I can swallow, but I feel lethargic, and its hard to breathe. I tell you this so youll understand that this isnt a hoax, this isnt some sophomoric attempt to increase ratings or site traffic. This is real. Everything I am about to tell you is the truth. Believe me, understand, and act, before it is too late.
If youre viewing this from the main page of After the End Times, youll see a download link labeled Campaign_Notes.zip on the left-hand side of your screen. Possession of the documents behind that link may be considered treason by the government of the United States of America. Please. Click. Download. Read. Repost to any forum you can, any message board or photo-sharing site or blog that you can reach. The data contained in those files is as essential to our freedom and survival as the report of Dr. Matras proved to be during the Rising. I am not overstating the datas importance. There isnt enough time for that.
Neither is there enough time for me to repeat the facts that are already codified and ready for you to download. Let this suffice for all the things I cannot say, do not have the time to say, will never say, and wish I could: They are lying to us. They are willfully channeling research away from the pursuit of a cure for this disease, and they are doing it under the auspices of our own government. I dont know who they are. I didnt live long enough to find out. Governor Tate served their interests. So, I regret to say, did Georgette Meissonier, previously a part of this reporting site.
They want us to stay afraid.
They want us to stay controlled.
They want us to stay sick.
Please, dont let them do this to our world. I am begging you from the Wall, because its all thats left for me to do. Its all I can do. Dont let them keep us frightened and hiding in our homes. Let us be what we were intended to be: human and free and able to make our own choices. Read what I have written, understand what they intend for us, for all of us, and decide to live.
They made a mistake in killing me because, alive or dead, the truth wont rest. My name is Georgia Mason, and I am begging you. Rise up while you can.
Mahir Im so sorry.
Buffy Im so sorry.
Rick Im so sorry.
Shaun Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry I didnt mean it I would take it all back if I could but I cant I cant I I I I I I I all fading words going cant do this cant Shaun please Shaun please I love you I love you I always you know I Shaun please cant hold on everything jfdh cant do this jhjnfbnnnn mmm have to my name my name is Shaun I love you Shaun please gngn please SHOOT ME SHAUN SHOOT ME N
TERMINATE LIVE FEED
RED FLAG DISTRIBUTION RED FLAG DISTRIBUTION RED
FLAG DISTRIBUTION
REPOST FREELY
BOOK V
Burial Writes
Ive spent my whole life imagining worlds other than the one that I was born in. Everybody does. The one world I never imagined was a world without a Georgia. So how come thats the world I have to live with?
SHAUN MASON
Im sorry.
GEORGIA MASON
It is the sad duty of the management of After the End Times to announce the death of Georgia Carolyn Mason, the head of our Factual News Division, most commonly called the Newsies, and one of the original founders of this site.
Ive been trying to find the words for this announcement since I was asked to make it, some three hours ago. The request came with a promotion to which I never aspired, and a position made bitter by the knowledge of what it cost. I would sooner have my friend than all the promotions in the world. But that option is not open to me, or to any of those who will mourn for her.
Georgia Mason was my friend, and I will always regret that we never met in the flesh. She once told me she lived each day hoping and praying she would find the truth; that she was able to keep going through all lifes petty disappointments because she knew that someday, the truth would set her free.
Good-bye, Georgia. May the truth be enough to bring you peace.
From Fish and Clips,
the blog of Mahir Gowda, June 20, 2040
Twenty-seven
Georges blood didnt all dry at the same rate.
Some of the smaller streaks dried almost immediately, staining the wall behind her ruined monitor. The gunshot collapsed the screen inward, safety-tempered glass holding its form as well as it could, even when the plastic casing shattered. It was like looking at some modern artists reinterpretation of an old-school disco ball. The partys in here, and were just getting started. As long as you didnt mind the blood on the glass, that was. I minded the blood on the glass. I minded the blood on the glass a lot. I just didnt see a way to put it back where it belonged.
The bigger splashes were drying slow and sticky, the color maturing from bright red to a sober burgundy, where they seemed content to stay. That bothered me. I wanted the blood to dry, wanted it to settle in funeral colors and stop taunting me. Im a good shot. Ive been on firing ranges since I was seven years old, in the fieldlegallysince I was sixteen. Even if the virus still allowed her to feel pain, George didnt have time for pain. It was just the roar of the gun, and then she was slumping forward, face-first on her keyboard. That was the only real mercy. She landed face-first, so I didnt have to see what Id so I didnt have to see. She didnt have time to suffer. I just have to keep telling myself that, now, and tomorrow, and the next day, for as long as I can stay alive.
