The following are excerpts from I-330’s journal while in the custody of the Eldritch Department.

***

So it’s been a while since I had the chance to write anything down. Shame it has to be on this journal, but apparently my blog doesn’t exist in this universe. I’ll miss my little piece of the internet. Even if I’m still not entirely sure how it became mine.

After a few days being hung up in a straightjacket, this Eldritch Department that’s been holding me finally gave me my own suite. I’m still not allowed to leave, but it’s an improvement. They’ve also been accommodating most of my requests, which is how I got this journal. And the refrigerator full of scotch. But they wouldn’t fulfill my request for a cake containing the key out of here, the bastards.

At least the place they’ve got me set up in is nice, if you ignore the glowing sigils everywhere that are preventing me from teleporting out of here. I asked Miles about them, and he said he wasn’t sure exactly what they were. Apparently the Eldritch Department erred on the side of paranoia and put up every possible defensive ward on this building when they built it, whether or not they knew what the ward was supposed to defend against. And it seems I’m the first entity they’ve had who reacted to these specific sigils. They had to build containment rooms for me entirely from scratch to incorporate the symbols, so at least I get to feel like I’m special. There used to be guards in here all the time as well, but they stopped assigning them to my room after too many complaints of sexual harassment. Come on, how am I the person at fault there? Can I really be blamed when they’re the ones who keep putting attractive young soldiers in the same room as me? That’s just asking for trouble.

Oh yeah, Miles and Flint. My “handlers.” I occasionally see other members of the staff, but those two are the ones I encounter the most. The others seem a little frightened of me (as they should be!) Agent Flint is the senior operative of the two, even if he’s usually a field agent instead of research. Not bad on the eyes, but you’ve heard the saying about all the cute guys being gay. Miles fills the role of the awkward young scientist perfectly. Kid seems a bit overwhelmed by his job; I don’t think he’s used to being put in charge of handling an entity mostly by himself. It probably doesn’t help that I’m the entity, and I haven’t exactly been all that cooperative in regards to people researching me. And it certainly has to be frustrating for them that they have to keep relying on what I tell them, since any objective evidence to support or refute my stories vanished with the destruction of my home universe. And… well, I might not have been entirely as truthful with what I’ve been telling him as he’d like.

Yeah, parallel universe. Knew they existed, never thought I’d actually end up in one. Being that I’m imprisoned in this place, I can’t exactly go out and investigate how different this place is from my old universe. I think I may have overheard one of the guards talking about the Soviet Union in the present tense, but that’s all I’ve got to work with.


About my old universe…. I… well, I…. I mean….

No. Best not dwell on the past. Keep looking forward. I get enough guilt in my dreams.