[REMODELED] main community

[As the camera flickered on, all that could be seen is a pair of black sunglasses that covered the eyes and area surrounding them completely before shakily zooming out to reveal a head with combed back hair, and a serious expression upon his lips.]

To whomever receive this message, my name is Gilbert G.P. Guilford and I too have woken up from this so-called illness.

I am vaguely uncertain what these nurses want me to put as my introductory message onto this channel. So pardon me if I say something that could be offensive in some way or another.

[He takes a deep breath.]

I refuse to believe that everything I experienced was a dream. I am Gilbert G.P. Guilford, personal knight to the second princess of Britannia. Not Gilbert G.P. Guilford, invalid who was cast away into this penal colony for the ill and forgotten! I do not believe for one moment that my princess was merely a figment of my imagination!

[He cleared his throat and forced himself to calm down. His loyalty to his distant dream princess was fierce, but there was no need to take out his frustrations on the poor video or those who came across it.]

I apologize for my outburst, possible viewers; regardless if it is warranted in my opinion... I am feeling rather frustrated at my current situation. I think now would be most appropriate to end this transmission with a message for my princess.

Please be safe, your highness.

[The video flickered off with that.]

[The camera in the small device flickers to life and the closely cropped face held within its eye smiles in triumph. The face holding the smile is male, typical - a little shabby and unshaven, but that's to be expected from one just recovering from an illness, no? The only things truly remarkable about him are the long scar running from the man's hairline to his left eye and the color of that same eye - a very pale brown, almost to the point of being colorless.]

[Satisfied that the device is working as intended, the man paces back from the camera and settles into an unremarkable chair. His body relaxes, but his eyes never leave the camera. Even as he stares, he reaches one hand to his lower chest - an obviously well-ingrained and almost instinctual maneuver - but he frowns when his fingertips brush nothing but plain white material. His fingertips move to tap an uneasy rhythm against his collarbone as he speaks an aside to himself.]

You're right, Zach. Wouldn't have the badge if they were telling us the truth about what happened - but I can't believe it just yet. Things, here, are...something isn't right. It doesn't add up. You feel it, too, don't you?

If there were such a widespread illness, an epidemic, word would be hard to keep quiet - someone would hear and the news reporters would jump on it in a second. The government would be breathing down necks looking for answers and containment - but there's no government presence here. The doctors, nurses, the whole staff - brief and efficient, yes, but nothing government about any of them.

Let's just hope it doesn't end up like that classic 1975 drama film...

[As if just then remembering that he is recording himself, the man pauses in whatever he had been about to recall and instead begins on a new tact.]

FBI Special Agent Francis York Morgan. Please, just call me York. It's what everyone calls me. I understand that we're all in the same boat here and it sounds like the basics have been pretty well covered in everyone's notes to this system. Still, if you think of anything, please don't hesitate to contact me.

...and if anyone has information on either an Emily Wyatt or a Forrest Kaysen, I'll be needing that, as well.

[Seemingly satisfied with his message, York stands from his chair and crosses again to the transmitting device. Picking it up in a hand, he gives it one last considering glance before the camera lens goes dark.]

My parents wouldn't do that. No matter what it's for, they wouldn't make me receive treatment for anything without letting me decide. They wouldn't...!

So why did they sign these papers? I don't...