Read Online The Mummies of Blogspace9 by William Doonan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: William Doonan
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we might want to steer clear of it because apparently other folks are looking for it too.
Cyrus has us on lockdown again. We’re not even going out to the site today unless we can make some sense of our senseless world. And we’re not getting too far along on that front. Bolivar is down with some kind of fever; that scratch on his face doesn’t look good. Kim is tending to him. And Leon has his face in that jug of mescaline.
I thought about leaving today. I thought about running for the nearest airplane, going to Spain to find you. But Cyrus went instead, and he left me in charge. And like I said, baby, I’m a scientist. I’ve got to see this through. Call me, text me, something me.
June 18, 2011 Segovia, Peru
Kim Castillo
Kim here - I’m a scientist too, boys and girls, or at least a scientist in training. But my mother died when I was four years old, and for the next ten years she sat by my bedside every night until I fell asleep. And yes, I know what you’re going to say. Well guess what, I don’t believe in ghosts either. So how do I explain it? I don’t bother trying to.
I was going to make this brief, but Bolivar is finally asleep. He’s not doing so well but at least the fever broke. I’ll check on him in a bit, but we have work to do. And until we decide to bug out, we might as well make some progress on that work in the hopes that it will illuminate our present condition.
Malleus Momias – let’s talk about that. Michelle, you’re not willing to believe in the existence of walking mummies because you’re a scientist? Get over yourself. Science is a comprehensive yet limited system for investigating natural phenomena. If there are mummies walking around our world, and apparently there are, then let’s understand that they are a natural phenomenon. They’re like a species of butterfly that flits at the edge of the village at dusk, but is never seen in daylight.
So let’s see if we can expose a little of this to daylight. I’ve spent much of the day working with this gigantic ultraviolet scanner that was delivered a couple of days ago. I Googled the model. It’s not even commercially available. It’s South Korean military hardware still under development, and it’s worth about two hundred thousand dollars. Who sent it to us? We don’t know. But that’s OK, because it works like a son of a bitch.
So here it is, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in four hundred and thirty-one years, I give you the first entry of Father Sebastiano Gota’s journal, translated into English by yours truly:
Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi 1580, 18 Junio // year of our lord 1580, 18 June
“Padre, padre, me perseguian.”
Father, father, they are following me. This is the message I sent to my superior, Father Vasco Cuellar, whose own church in Chocope (a ride of one hour perhaps) is considerably grander than my own. It is Father Vasco who delivered me here to Segovia some months ago. And it is he who I have come to consider my closest confidant during these harrowing times.
I pen these words in secret because my task is an unholy one, written in an unholy place. I daresay that if I do not recount this tale, the time of human men will soon come to an end. May we be called to the side of Jesus when the time comes, but this, this is something altogether different. I speak of nothing other than the gates of hell opening onto our world.
My name is Sebastiano Alfonso Gota. My father, may the Lord in his heavenly wisdom bless his eternal soul, was Don Efrain Gota of Caceres, Extremadura. I am a priest in the service of Our Lord, and his servant Our King Phillip III. I am twenty-five years old, and I am damned.
///error: connection terminated at server///
SEND REPORT / DON’T SEND REPORT
June 19, 2011
Seville, Spain
Bruce Wheeler
voice activation mode:
disabled
GPS:
disabled
Every other fucking goddamn app:
disabled
(by Bruce Wheeler who is angry)
Michelle, it’s me. I wish I could talk with you. I
Cyrus has us on lockdown again. We’re not even going out to the site today unless we can make some sense of our senseless world. And we’re not getting too far along on that front. Bolivar is down with some kind of fever; that scratch on his face doesn’t look good. Kim is tending to him. And Leon has his face in that jug of mescaline.
I thought about leaving today. I thought about running for the nearest airplane, going to Spain to find you. But Cyrus went instead, and he left me in charge. And like I said, baby, I’m a scientist. I’ve got to see this through. Call me, text me, something me.
June 18, 2011 Segovia, Peru
Kim Castillo
Kim here - I’m a scientist too, boys and girls, or at least a scientist in training. But my mother died when I was four years old, and for the next ten years she sat by my bedside every night until I fell asleep. And yes, I know what you’re going to say. Well guess what, I don’t believe in ghosts either. So how do I explain it? I don’t bother trying to.
I was going to make this brief, but Bolivar is finally asleep. He’s not doing so well but at least the fever broke. I’ll check on him in a bit, but we have work to do. And until we decide to bug out, we might as well make some progress on that work in the hopes that it will illuminate our present condition.
Malleus Momias – let’s talk about that. Michelle, you’re not willing to believe in the existence of walking mummies because you’re a scientist? Get over yourself. Science is a comprehensive yet limited system for investigating natural phenomena. If there are mummies walking around our world, and apparently there are, then let’s understand that they are a natural phenomenon. They’re like a species of butterfly that flits at the edge of the village at dusk, but is never seen in daylight.
So let’s see if we can expose a little of this to daylight. I’ve spent much of the day working with this gigantic ultraviolet scanner that was delivered a couple of days ago. I Googled the model. It’s not even commercially available. It’s South Korean military hardware still under development, and it’s worth about two hundred thousand dollars. Who sent it to us? We don’t know. But that’s OK, because it works like a son of a bitch.
So here it is, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in four hundred and thirty-one years, I give you the first entry of Father Sebastiano Gota’s journal, translated into English by yours truly:
Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi 1580, 18 Junio // year of our lord 1580, 18 June
“Padre, padre, me perseguian.”
Father, father, they are following me. This is the message I sent to my superior, Father Vasco Cuellar, whose own church in Chocope (a ride of one hour perhaps) is considerably grander than my own. It is Father Vasco who delivered me here to Segovia some months ago. And it is he who I have come to consider my closest confidant during these harrowing times.
I pen these words in secret because my task is an unholy one, written in an unholy place. I daresay that if I do not recount this tale, the time of human men will soon come to an end. May we be called to the side of Jesus when the time comes, but this, this is something altogether different. I speak of nothing other than the gates of hell opening onto our world.
My name is Sebastiano Alfonso Gota. My father, may the Lord in his heavenly wisdom bless his eternal soul, was Don Efrain Gota of Caceres, Extremadura. I am a priest in the service of Our Lord, and his servant Our King Phillip III. I am twenty-five years old, and I am damned.
///error: connection terminated at server///
SEND REPORT / DON’T SEND REPORT
June 19, 2011
Seville, Spain
Bruce Wheeler
voice activation mode:
disabled
GPS:
disabled
Every other fucking goddamn app:
disabled
(by Bruce Wheeler who is angry)
Michelle, it’s me. I wish I could talk with you. I
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