The dream was weak , and grey , and flickering . I strained my eyes , but I could never seem to see as well as I wanted ; there never seemed to be enough light . I was in a walled garden , standing on the lawn . Bob was sitting down , stroking two foxes who rubbed against him . Their cubs frolicked around us . Bob was a desiccated husk . His eyes were milky white , his skin paper thin . His hair and beard were patchy , reduced to white wisps . He told me he was dying . He said the battle had been fought , and both sides had lost . He held out a fox and said I should embrace it . I stayed where I was . Something moved over my foot . I looked down and saw a snake . Bob saw it too , and nodded . He said it was clear . One was a gift , the other a prize . The burden would be mine , the endless burden that had destroyed him and twisted the other , if only I would take it . The end was coming , or was here , and the choice was mine . Carry the burden or end everything . He held out the fox again ; I took it . Bob said he would help me , one last time . Then he would wake from his nightmare , his burden gone . He told me to pack my bag and sleep in my clothes . Then he said goodbye . I woke up soaked with sweat . It was mid - afternoon , and I was exhausted . I 'll do as Bob asks . I 'll take my laptop . If I can , I 'll post . I feel like this will be my legacy . I don 't know what 's going on . I 'm pretty certain the figure under the blanket must have been Smith , and I can think of a reason why she was covered up . We work with the mal here , and though the researchers seem to have an uncanny resistance , there must still be cases where they become afflicted . Smith was displaying signs of paranoia when she met with me , which is a point in favour of my theory . On the other hand , I 'm not sure it was paranoia ; her observations might have been accurate . Assuming Smith has been afflicted , I can 't help but wonder whether it was just an unfortunate accident , or something else , something worse . There were a lot of scientists waiting in the corridor , and it did seem as if Smith had done something - maybe by talking to me , maybe through her general attitude - that might necessitate punishment . But then , I don 't know anything . Maybe she has been promoted . I can 't stand this . I don 't know what 's happening here , and I don 't trust it . No one I 've spoken to knows what 's going on , and anyone that does know is somewhere I can 't get to . My mind keeps going back to the lift they took Smith down in . If I could get down there , maybe I 'd find some answers . But I don 't see any way to get past the guards . I went back to the executive area . I couldn 't get to the room I 'd seen Smith go into , as there were scientists and soldiers in the corridor . There was no way I 'd be able to get close . I loitered at a safe distance , and if they noticed me , they didn 't care . Something seemed to be going on , and the people in the corridor looked like they were waiting for whatever was happening to finish . I had a choice : I could wait with them , or I could go back to my room and give up on my investigation . Smith was my final lead ; if I stopped now , I 'd have nothing to do but go back to work and trust that the people running the facility knew what they were doing . I waited . I circled around , finding a place where I could watch without being entirely obvious . I wasn 't hidden as such , but someone in the corridor would have to look closely to see me . I waited there for an hour before anything happened . Eventually , a man opened the door . He leaned out and delivered some information to the nearest scientist . The scientist spoke to a number of people , who left after they 'd been addressed . Soon , only a couple of soldiers remained . They went to the door and opened it . Someone came out , covered with a blanket that reached almost to the floor . The two soldiers led the blanket - covered person away . I followed them to a guarded lift ; they went in and the doors closed . I explored the rest of the corridors . Most of the space is taken up by researchers , all of them doing vivisection . I didn 't bother speaking to them after a while ; I was hearing the same story over and over again . They were studying how to manipulate the mal . I thought about going into G section , but I couldn 't see the point , as I already knew exactly what they got up to in there . The only part of the floor that was any different was the executive area . Some of the rooms in the executive area were windowed , and I could see people in suits sat around large tables , their mandatory scrubs and masks hanging from hooks by the door . There were more soldiers around , too , who looked at me with suspicion but never said anything . I explored as thoroughly as I could , though I found nothing of any interest , and didn 't see anyone who 'd stop to speak to me . I spent hours there , and though I didn 't find the information I wanted , my persistence paid off . I was walking through a corridor I 'd already been through several times when I heard boots . I pressed myself into a corner and waited . I didn 't see any point in pushing my luck , and I 'd been hanging around for long enough that the soldiers might have been getting edgy . Between the footsteps , I could hear someone . She was distressed . I was tucked away , so the soldiers didn 't notice me as they came through . They were escorting Smith somewhere . I followed as closely as I dared , and watched them put her through a door into a windowless room . I don 't think she 's been promoted . I got out of there before the soldiers could see me . I 'll try to get back tomorrow . I wonder if her " promotion " has anything to do with how she was behaving yesterday . I doubt anyone knows that she spoke to me , but she seemed upset and scared , and I don 't know what to make of the things she told me . I don 't want to believe that the scientists at the top of the facility have given up on holding back The Sick Land . But I can 't think of any other way to interpret what I 've seen . The research on this floor is focused on treating and manipulating the mal . Unless there 's yet more to the facility that I haven 't seen , that 's everything . There 's nothing else . I don 't know what to do . The world as we know it will end , maybe not in my lifetime , but soon . And the survivors , if there are any , will be monsters , people we 've altered haphazardly , with our limited understanding of how the mal works . The human species will be extinct , and whatever 's left in its place will be something new and frightening . I don 't know if I 'm being melodramatic . There must be research here that I don 't know about . I 'm going to explore the rest of the floor , the parts I haven 't seen . I need to find some evidence , any evidence , of research to stop the expansion . If I find it , I 'll settle back in , get my head down , and make whatever contribution I can . I met with Smith again this morning . She was agitated , and explained that she could only speak to me for a few minutes . We met in a small , windowless room . She kept turning to look at the closed door , as if she expected us to be interrupted at any minute . She caught my gaze and told me to ask the question I wanted to ask . She said she 'd do her best to answer it . I didn 't have to think . I asked her how the research here related to the expansion problem , and how close we were to having anything that could be used to hold back The Sick Land . She looked away , her eyes fixed on a point miles in the distance . She told me I should have worked it out by now . That there was no escape , no holding The Sick Land back , no resisting the mal . All we could do , all the facility did , was try to find ways for humankind to survive the inevitable . I stared at her , my mouth falling open , and wondered if this was the official line , or just Smith 's personal take on the situation . I started to ask her but she cut me off . She said we had to adapt as a species , had to find ways to keep the human race going while The Sick Land washed over us . Change was coming , and death for billions . I didn 't know what to say . She told me she had to go , and left the small room in a hurry . I sat there for another quarter of an hour , brooding on what she 'd said . I only left when two soldiers opened the door , looked in and saw me , then went without a second glance . Something is happening . I met with Smith , and we talked about G section . I asked her about the man I 'd seen yesterday . Nothing more than that . I left the question open . She said he was a test subject , someone they 'd purposefully manipulated with the mal . She told me his leg had been nothing but a rotting tube of flesh when he 'd been brought in . They 'd taken some of the samples from 83 and managed to implant them into the man 's leg . 83 's affliction had taken over , covering and repairing the putrid flesh , transforming the leg back into an appendage . She told me it was a breakthrough , the first instance where they 'd managed to use the mal to do something good , to help somebody . I asked her why his leg was so big . She said she didn 't know , but they suspected it was some kind of interaction effect . I asked whether he was any better off now . She shrugged and said it was the first step . I held my hands up and said I didn 't get it . I said I didn 't get what the point of any of this was , how it was supposed to help us hold back The Sick Land . It felt like we were trying to stop the tide with sandcastles . I didn 't get an answer . Smith was paged . Her face went white when she got the message , and she told me we 'd have to continue our talk tomorrow . She ran out in a hurry . I feel like I 'm starting to lose whatever tentative grip I ever had on what 's going on in this place . I went back to G section . The soldiers on guard weren 't the two I saw yesterday , but luckily , I still had my pass . I showed it to them , and they logged the number before nodding me through . I didn 't go the way I 'd been yesterday , as I didn 't think I 'd get much out of staring through the window into the experimental drugs lab . I wandered the corridors aimlessly . Most of the labs were behind heavy doors . The few areas I saw that were windowed showed nothing but scientists mixing chemicals or studying computer screens . I kept my head down when I passed people . There didn 't seem to be anything prohibiting me from being in G section , but I thought it would be a good idea to keep a low profile . I turned a corner and saw directly into a large , glass - sided room . A man was suspended from the wall , a thick metal band passing around his waist , with an attached nylon strap between his legs holding him up . Other nylon straps held his arms and one of his legs . His other leg was enormous , and encrusted with cracked , yellowing skin . I stared through the glass at him . I couldn 't hear any sound , but it looked as if he was screaming . I could see no one else in the room . I stumbled away . As I passed back through the checkpoint , one of the guards stopped me then moved away to speak on his radio . I was made to wait for a few minutes . Smith arrived . She told me to meet her tomorrow , so we could discuss what I 'd seen . G G section is separated from the rest of the lower floor by a narrow corridor . The corridor is supervised by a couple of soldiers . Supervised , rather than guarded : they don 't seem to stop people , but they do check your details and log that you 've passed through the checkpoint . I spoke to the guards , and they asked me my reason for entering G section . I bluffed and said that I wanted to talk to some of the scientists about 407 , and discuss the effects of the drug and some biopsy results . The guards weren 't particularly interested , and just noted down a few details . They gave me a pass and sent me through . I checked the floor plan on the wall ; the experimental drugs section was nearby . A scientist was leaning on the wall outside the lab door drinking water from a paper cup . He looked at me suspiciously , so I took a risk and told him I wanted to speak to someone about the drug 407 had been given . He obviously thought I was supposed to know about it , because he told me the whole thing was a bust unless they could learn to control it . Then he said everything in G section was a waste of time anyway , as nothing they developed would ever work outside The Sick Land . He asked me if I wanted to come into the lab and talk to someone , but I pretended I had to leave . He watched me until I 'd gone past the guards and back into the main corridor . I spoke to the project leader responsible for 407 . He was very apologetic about what happened , and seemed genuinely shocked ; he said she 'd always been a model subject . His attitude changed completely when I told him about the drug , though . I said that 407 had seemed to have a bad reaction to a drug I was told to give her , and that it came in a red - banded syringe . The project leader 's face darkened , and he said she wasn 't supposed to be involved in any experimental protocols . He started ranting about the research being seriously delayed , and how they were close to identifying the muscle growth factor that caused her affliction . I tried to commiserate with him . I said it was terrible that a single mistake could destroy a research program . He looked me in the eye and said it wasn 't a mistake . I asked him what he meant , and he told me to go to G section and ask . As soon as he said it , he stopped talking , rubbed his eyes , and looked back at me . He said he 'd spoken out of turn and asked me to forget it . I said I would . I followed the drug trolley . When the scientist delivering the drugs went into one of the rooms , I had a look at the information on his clipboard . The syringes are colour - coded based on what they 're used for . The syringe I have from yesterday has a red band around it , which , according to the chart , means it 's an experimental compound . I looked at the contents of the trolley ; there were fewer red bands than any of the other colours . No one told me they were testing experimental drugs on 407 , though maybe they wouldn 't . The important thing for me to find out now is whether the drug was given to 407 by mistake , or deliberately . If it was given deliberately , I need to find out whether they knew it would have that effect . I have to know whether they knowingly put my life at risk to test a drug . Even if there 's an innocent explanation for what happened , I have to wonder what they 're doing with that drug . I 've heard 407 is still trapped in an animalistic frenzy . I hope they had no idea that would happen . I can 't see how a drug that causes murderous rage furthers our research into curing the mal . The drug trolley came round as usual , and I was given a full syringe of something to inject into 407 . It 's something I 've done the last few days . I wiped 407 's arm with alcohol and gave her the injection . We were chatting normally as I did it . I turned away to discard the syringe , and 407 grabbed me by the throat . I turned to face her . She was snarling , though that term hardly describes it ; her expression was like nothing I 've seen before on a human being . Her normal hand was clamped around my throat ; I was starting to panic and see spots . She was trying bodily to drag her giant arm around so it could grab me . I knew if she got hold of me , I 'd be crushed to death . I kicked and punched and pushed my fingers into her eyes . My throat slipped out of her hand and I ran out the door , slamming it shut and locking it behind me . 407 stared at me through the glass . I 've been checked out by the medics . I 'm fine , apart from bruises , and the shock of what happened . They 've signed me off on compassionate leave while I get over my near miss . I don 't think anyone noticed , but I still have the syringe . I might use my leave to find out what it is . I 'm certain 407 changed when I injected her with the drug ; I want to know what it was . We did a lot of medical stuff on Amanda today , taking blood and tissue samples from her afflicted arm , as well as similar samples from her healthy arm . She took it well , sitting patiently while people in white coats bustled around her and jabbed her with implements . I was in charge of a small meter that measured her blood pressure and heart rate , among other things . Amanda told us a story about something that happened to her when she was on duty at the military base . She 'd been assigned to guard the gate , which she hated , because nothing ever happened . She was speaking to the other guard and keeping an eye out front , when out of nowhere , the rotted carcass of a whale dropped onto the ground a hundred yards ahead of them . She was almost crying with laughter as she described the horrendous stench and the deeply unpleasant clean - up job that followed . She got to stand there and watch while every unassigned soldier on the base was sent to mop up whale guts . The scientists taking the samples obviously enjoyed her story . It gives me hope for the state of things here . As long as they realise they 're working on human beings , rather than empty bodies , I can 't believe there 'd be many ethical problems . We stress tested Amanda 's arm . We had to figure out a way to brace it just under the shoulder , so that it wouldn 't rip away from the rest of her body . We did it using an adjustable frame and some straps . Once the arm was braced , we began loading a barbell and seeing how much she could hold onto . We ran out of weight before she lost her grip . She told me she could hold on all day , so we tried a different test . We helped her lift her arm up and grip one of the chinning bars on the ceiling . Then we timed how long she could hang . We ended up having lunch while we watched her . In the end , she said her ribs were starting to hurt where she was dangling , so we helped her down . Her condition is extraordinary . By most accounts , she 's hideously deformed , but her distended arm is unbelievably powerful . She seems in high spirits , too , and was laughing and joking while we tested her . I really hope most of the patients here are more like Amanda and less like 83 . It would make the research activities much easier to accept . I 've been assigned to patient 407 . She has an enormous , prodigiously strong right arm , but is otherwise normal . She told me to call her Amanda . My job is to test the limits of her afflicted arm , and to do various simple medical things , like drawing blood . I also have to observe muscle biopsies and other complex procedures . 407 , Amanda , is stoical about her situation . She was military , stationed at one of the bases on the outskirts . She thinks she got affected by the mal after a single extraction mission that took her into the Green Zone . It 's certainly possible . Sometimes , people do get struck down that quickly . But now that I know about fluctuations , and the rate of expansion , it 's difficult to avoid speculating . It 's quite possible that her base was inside the Green Zone and they never knew . I didn 't mention my suspicions . I think she 's better off believing it was just a terrible piece of luck , rather than a systematic failure by her employers to protect her . I went to the lab where they 're experimenting on 83 's skin samples . I watched through the glass wall as the scientists inside ran various tests , standard biological stuff as far as I could tell . I loitered outside until someone came out who I could speak to . I asked the scientist what they were doing with the tissue , and she told me they 're searching for the mechanism by which 83 's skin regenerates . She said it 's a particularly fascinating case because they don 't know where the energy or protein for the regeneration comes from . 83 eats nowhere near enough food , and they suspect he draws on the mal in some way . I told her I thought the research sounded fascinating , and that it had obvious applications in medicine . I asked her if she thought it might produce something that could be sold , or used in other applications . I was thinking of how much money could be made from cellular regeneration . She looked at me as if I were an idiot , and said that whatever mechanism was involved in 83 's regeneration wouldn 't function away from The Sick Land , just like everything else they study here . I was embarrassed ; I thanked her , and left . I 've been worried about possible cynical motivations here , but the scientist I spoke to made a good point : whatever they discover here only holds here . The research , though unpalatable , is obviously aimed at helping people survive the mal , which is a noble goal . I 'm still not sure how it relates to stopping the expansion , but I 'll continue speaking to people until I find out . Today was my final day in sole charge of 83 . He was still knocked out from the injection , so I took the blowtorch and removed the rest of his thickened skin . It smelt like pork cooking , and I had to leave a few times to get my breath back and stop my head spinning . When I was done , 83 's flesh was bloody and inflamed . I injected him , and recorded the relevant data . As I was finishing , Smith arrived to debrief me . She looked at 83 and nodded . There was no satisfaction on her face . She looked at my data without comment , and asked if I had any questions . I told her that 83 's brain damage was much less severe than had been assumed , and that I 'd been communicating with him . Smith told me she knew , and that it was always at the back of her mind that 83 was a human being . I got angry , and asked why she and Miles had tricked me , and led me to believe 83 was brain damaged . She said Miles didn 't know , and none of the scientists she 'd had under her had known . She said that for their peace of mind , it was better that way . My anger disappeared ; 83 needed his treatment to stay alive , and the facility needed the research . It was right to ease the burden on the researchers . 83 's skin had thickened during the night , and I found him on the floor , unable to move . I couldn 't bear to see him like that , so I tried to scrape away some of the skin as gently as I could to free up his joints . As soon as I touched his skin , he started to moan horribly , and I knew he was in excruciating pain . I didn 't know what to do . If I left him as he was , 83 was trapped in his motionless body . He was struggling to breath , and I didn 't think he 'd live for much longer . But removing his skin caused him terrible pain . In the end , I did what I had to do . I grabbed his arm , sliced away some skin with a knife , and injected him with the sedative . When 83 was out cold , I grabbed the blowtorch and burned the skin on his arm away . I didn 't do any more than that , because I needed to see how he reacted . Tomorrow , I 'll clear the rest of the skin away . It 'll hurt him temporarily , but he won 't be in as bad a situation as he is now . I don 't feel good about it , but I can 't think of any other way to solve his problem . I need to know what 's going on . I have to get a fuller picture of what they do here on the lower level , how their research is progressing . Once my week in charge of 83 is over , I 'll be in a better position to investigate . I brought 83 a pad of paper and a marker . He took them and began to write . He wrote that he used to work as a researcher in the top level of the facility . He went on repeated field trips ; one day , he found a small patch of thick skin on the underside of his arm . He saw the medical team , and they told him it was the mal . They made him sign papers before he could receive care ; when he signed , they moved him down here . 83 was flagging badly as he wrote , the activity exhausting him . Before he fell into unconsciousness , he managed to tell me that he is kept sedated almost all the time , and that the treatment he receives is like torture . He started to write something else , but he passed out before there was anything legible on the page . I think it 's possible that no one really intended for 83 to be used in the way he has been . At the very least , I need to find out what discoveries have come out of the research conducted on 83 . If he 's being needlessly tortured , it needs to stop . In the condition he 's in , though , it 's easy to imagine there 's only one way to help him . When I arrived at 83 's cell , he was sitting on the bed . His skin was broken and bleeding , I guessed from the effort of getting up there . I almost went to get someone else - Smith , or Miles - but I didn 't . 83 sat on the bed with his hands on his knees , his head down . I opened the cell and went in . 83 looked up at me with his single , milky eye . I stood by the door , staring at him . 83 raised his arms , and I could hear his skin crackling and tearing . He held his left hand flat in front of his body and moved his fist over it . I realised he was miming writing . I was frightened . He made the writing gesture again ; very carefully , I left the cell and got a pad of paper and a marker . I wasn 't quite sure that I wanted to go near him , so I clipped the marker to the pad and slid it across the floor to 83 's feet . He bent to pick it up , and I felt bad about the pain it obviously caused . He took the marker , held it clumsily , and drew something on the pad . Then he slid it back to me ; it was blood stained . The shaky writing on the pad said ' NO INJECTION ' . I was amazed , and nodded to 83 . I went to give him back the pad , but he shook his head . His eye was already closing . It had obviously taken an extreme effort for him to write . I 'll come back tomorrow . If his recovery continues , he might be able to tell me how he came to be here . Has he somehow recovered from brain damage ? Or are the experiments here more sinister than I thought ? I resolved in the night to give 83 his treatment . The research has a noble goal , even if the methods are questionable . I shouldn 't let my repulsion at what they do here hamper their pursuit of a way to combat the mal . I arrived at 83 's cell intending to do what I 'd been asked . I took the blowtorch and entered his cell . 83 was in what seemed to be his standard position , sitting slumped on the floor by the back wall . If anything , his skin appeared thicker , with even more cracks splitting its surface . I moved toward him to shackle his arms , and he raised his head . I froze . I 'd never seen 83 move in such a purposeful manner . I began to doubt what I 'd seen . I stepped forward . 83 lifted his arms , the skin splitting and oozing pus , and held his hands up to me , a clear , unambiguous gesture . I left his cell . I 'd been told 83 was badly brain damaged . That 's not what I saw today , and I can 't get out of my mind that yesterday was the first day he didn 't receive his injection . I wonder if the injections are why he seems brain damaged . I don 't want to think about what that means . In line with the experiment Smith and Miles have concocted , I was supposed to burn away a small patch of 83 's skin and administer an injection there . I couldn 't do it . When I arrived , 83 was sitting up , no longer comatose , exactly as he was the first time I saw him . I started by following the instructions that were left for me . Maybe I thought it would be better if I was just mechanically following orders . I shackled 83 's arms to the wall , and ignited the blowtorch . When I touched the flame to 83 's arm , he screamed horribly , and I realised I couldn 't do it . I extinguished the flame , unshackled 83 , and left him in his cell . He was making quiet , rasping noises , and I wondered if he knew about anything other than pain . I sat outside his cell , staring in . I don 't know what happens now . I can 't do the work they want me to , and I don 't think that 'll be tolerated here . I 'm in trouble . Today 's task was simple enough : give 83 an injection he needed before the treatment proper begins tomorrow . As far as I could tell , 83 was comatose when I arrived ; I guessed he 'd been like that since the ordeal of his change cycle . Neither Smith nor Miles were there , but they 'd left detailed instruction on how to give 83 his injection . I walked into his cell and lifted his arm in my gloved hand . His skin is like incredibly thick callous , and moving his arm required a lot of force . When it finally did move , the skin ruptured and oozed translucent fluid . With my stomach churning , I took a metal implement and began to scrape away at the skin . I was sweating by the time I 'd removed enough to give 83 the injection . The room smelt like an abattoir , and I couldn 't look at the bloodied chunks of flesh I 'd left piled on the floor . I injected 83 and left the room , heading straight to decontamination , where I threw away the scrubs , gloves , and mask I 'd been wearing , and stood under a hot shower for a long time . I couldn 't get what I 'd seen , what I 'd done , out of my mind . I 'm beginning to hate myself . Smith took me to one side today and spoke to me in a nearby office . She said she was concerned that I wasn 't adapting well to my new role , and that I was allowing squeamishness to override my desire to contribute to the research . She said that if I wanted to help people like 83 , I had to be willing to make the hard choices , and do things that might seem cruel in the short term . I don 't really understand how torturing 83 is helping , but I kept my mouth shut ; Smith is the scientist in charge of our group , and I don 't know what happens to me if she decides she doesn 't want me . I must be on my last chance . Smith put me in sole charge of 83 for the next week . The idea is that I get used to every aspect of 83 's treatment , and I get over my squeamishness . I 'm going to have to do things to 83 that I 'm not comfortable with , but it 's better than the alternative . I was told I could be kept prisoner here if I was considered a risk ; I 've had a lot of exposure to the mal over the previous months , and I know what would happen to me if I manifested symptoms as a prisoner . I don 't want to end up like 83 . At least as a scientist here , I can try to reduce the amount of suffering . Against my better judgment , I went back to work . Smith told me 83 was about to undergo his change cycle , and that all three of us would be watching . Miles set up monitoring equipment , and we sat at the desk in front of 83 's cell . He was lying on the floor , his arms spread out , still coated in dried blood from the day before . I wouldn 't be comfortable keeping a rat in those conditions . After a couple of hours , the cycle began . 83 writhed on the floor of his cell , his body contorting into positions that looked almost impossible . He began to scream , and I watched as his skin rippled . He bucked once , his heels driving into the floor and lifting his back , and thick yellow matter forced itself out from underneath the surface of his skin . His screaming choked off as the yellow crust thickened , cracking and splitting as it grew . The whole process was over in a few minutes , and 83 was back as he was when I first saw him . He lay on the floor of the cell , motionless except for the ragged rise and fall of his chest . Smith and Miles checked instruments and recorded notes . Then , as if they hadn 't just seen a man in torturous pain , they began to discuss the next experiment . When Smith raised the issue of burning 83 's skin away , I got up and left . I 've been assigned to work with subject 83 . Before I went to his cell , I was told he was brain damaged , and had a degenerative skin disorder caused by exposure to the mal . When I got there , he was slumped against the back wall , his remaining eye clouded over with blue mist . His skin was a pale yellow , and inches thick . A network of deep , brown cracks covered his body . He didn 't seem to be able to move . The other two researchers assigned to 83 , Smith and Miles , explained that they 're studying how his skin condition responds to different stimuli , and the growth factors that cause his problem . They told me I was about to see an experiment . Smith and Miles entered 83 's cell and shackled him to the wall . His skin split when they moved his arms , releasing thin pus . Once he was shackled , they took wire brushes and scrubbed his skin . The brushes quickly became soaked with blood , the bristles clogged with fragments of skin . While they scrubbed , 83 whined , a high - pitched , unsettling sound . When they were done , they unshackled 83 and he fell to the floor . He trembled , and his body was slick with blood . They told me to inject him with a sedative , which I did . His arm was slippery and hot . I was briefed about the work they want me to do . I was told I 'll be given much more responsibility than I 've had before , and that I might find the work distasteful . I asked if there was anything else for me to do here , anything that didn 't involve vivisection . Apparently there isn 't . Everything they do is focused on discovering how the mal works , how it can be cured and controlled . They believe that every other avenue of investigation has failed , and that the only solid basis we have for our research is in the interaction of living , human tissue with the mal . I asked how it would help us solve the expansion problem , and was told that we needed something , anything , that was tractable to scientific investigation , and that thus far , there 'd only been success in this one field . There 's a second reason for this research , one that nobody talks about because it 's almost too horrible to contemplate . In the event that The Sick Land begins to consume population centres , our research will be needed to help the afflicted people survive the mal as best they can . To me , it seems like trying to fix a decapitation with a bandage , but I understand that there needs to be some planning for the worst - case scenario . I start work tomorrow ; I hope I can stomach it . Posted by I was shown around the lower floor . The screams never stop here . I left my room in the middle of the night to get a glass of water , and I could hear them , faintly , coming through the ventilation shaft . The lower floor is built around a large central corridor , with smaller corridors branching from it at regular intervals . Each smaller corridor leads to a research station with desks and equipment , and a glass - fronted cell . I knew what would be in the cells before one was shown to me ; it was obvious from the terrible sounds that echo around this place . The cell I was shown contained a sedated woman . Her stomach was a bulbous pus - filled wound the size of a dinner plate . A hairy , segmented leg protruded from the centre of the wound , twitching . I felt bile rising in my throat , but I forced it down . I 've seen enough , here in The Sick Land , that even the deeply wrong no longer affects me the way it would a normal person . Two scientists were working outside the cell , examining samples cut from the woman 's wound . My guide told me the research here is focused on discovering how the mal affects human tissue , and how the effects can be controlled . They believe this is the only way humanity can get some grasp of what it is The Sick Land does , and gain some insight into how it works . They think the only way we can gain enough information to stop the expansion is through the vivisection of human subjects . It 's terrifying , and I understand why the outside world can never know what goes on here . The floor below is more like a hospital than a lab . Harsh fluorescent lights flicker above stainless steel and white - painted brick . I was given scrubs and a face mask before I entered the lift , and everyone I saw was dressed the same way . The air tastes horrible , and the smell of antiseptic is constant . The first thing I saw when I exited the lift was a team charging through the corridor , pulling on rubber gloves as they ran . I turned to ask what was going on , but a pain - filled howl cut me off . I would have said it didn 't sound human , if I thought there was anything else on the planet capable of so much despair . I had a very bad feeling . The man who 'd accompanied me down was looking at me , as if he was trying to read my mind . He said I 'd probably guessed what research took place down here . I didn 't need to respond ; we both listened to a blood - curdling scream that ended with a thick , bubbling cough . He led me straight to a medical room , where I was checked for disease and parasites , thoroughly decontaminated , and given innumerable injections . The medical stuff took all day . I 'm in a tiny room , very much like the bedroom I had when I first arrived in The Sick Land . I 'm dreading tomorrow . At least at the moment , I can kid myself about what they do here . Tomorrow , I 'm going to have to see it . I was offered the opportunity to stay . I 'd move down a floor , to the level below . I 've been led to believe that whatever they 're doing down there is vital to the solution of the expansion problem , but also that the research is on the very edge of what 's ethical and acceptable . I 've been told that if I choose to go down there , I 'll forgo any human rights I imagine might cover me . The work is apparently too important for them to allow you to leave if they don 't think you 're entirely trustworthy , and I could end up seeing out the rest of my days as a prisoner in the facility . I think it 's worth it . Whatever they 're doing down there might well be humanity 's final hope . If we can 't hold back The Sick Land , and it continues to grow at its current rate , we 're all doomed . I need to know what they 're doing to hold it back , and I need to help if I can . I 'm already buried in this too deeply to be extracted ; if I left now , I 'd spend the rest of my life worrying about what was happening here , and feeling as if I missed my one opportunity to contribute to the wellbeing of mankind .