There’s an aged quality to the sound of the voice that plays from the tape recorder. Garbled but firm in annunciation, it’s clear that this was an intentional ploy to cover the vocal identity of the speaker. Static kicks in between pauses.
Salutations, passengers. Somewhere on your person you should each find a number. None of you is under any obligation to use these numbers, but do keep in mind that each of you may have your own reasons to keep your identities secret. Moreover, I must inform you that there is a killer among your ranks. If you wish to err on the side of caution, I recommend referring one another simply using the designation I have given you.
Later, you may find it necessary to divulge personal information, as your one task here is to find me and enter my full name into the keypad. You have seven hours to do so before the train reaches a destination that, I’m sorry to say, will kill each and every one of us, myself included. I will not intervene, no matter how grim our prospects. The only way to access the control room is to do as I have said...or to be the last person left alive before the clock runs out. I have made the proper preparations to ensure this fail safe; your vitals are monitored and linked to a secondary key that will override the control room’s padlock.
The connections that each of you have with one another may become easy to muddle, so I provided you each with a means of taking notes. Good luck.
Salutations, passengers. Somewhere on your person you should each find a number. None of you is under any obligation to use these numbers, but do keep in mind that each of you may have your own reasons to keep your identities secret. Moreover, I must inform you that there is a killer among your ranks. If you wish to err on the side of caution, I recommend referring one another simply using the designation I have given you.
Later, you may find it necessary to divulge personal information, as your one task here is to find me and enter my full name into the keypad. You have seven hours to do so before the train reaches a destination that, I’m sorry to say, will kill each and every one of us, myself included. I will not intervene, no matter how grim our prospects. The only way to access the control room is to do as I have said...or to be the last person left alive before the clock runs out. I have made the proper preparations to ensure this fail safe; your vitals are monitored and linked to a secondary key that will override the control room’s padlock.
The connections that each of you have with one another may become easy to muddle, so I provided you each with a means of taking notes. Good luck.
There’s an aged quality to the sound of the voice that plays from the tape recorder. Garbled but firm in annunciation, it’s clear that this was an intentional ploy to cover the vocal identity of the speaker. Static kicks in between pauses.
...Still, there’s a quality to the cadence that suggests this is a sophisticated copy, and not from the original source.
Salutations, passengers. Although you are not the initial 15, you will have gathered from the first tape that your predicament is the same. Down to every last detail, the scene of a vicious crime has been duplicated. The criminal who built this contraption may have been brought to justice, but the mystery was never solved...and the many innocent people who lost their lives have never known peace.
Although none of you have any connection to the event in question, you’ve nonetheless been brought here to solve the unsolvable mystery once and for all. Take heart, for I have not left you empty handed. Along with the original clues, I have hidden across the train the notes from the original victims.
Do keep in mind that their conclusions were ultimately incorrect...but perhaps you can figure out where they went wrong, and correct the narrative.
Good luck.
...Still, there’s a quality to the cadence that suggests this is a sophisticated copy, and not from the original source.
Salutations, passengers. Although you are not the initial 15, you will have gathered from the first tape that your predicament is the same. Down to every last detail, the scene of a vicious crime has been duplicated. The criminal who built this contraption may have been brought to justice, but the mystery was never solved...and the many innocent people who lost their lives have never known peace.
Although none of you have any connection to the event in question, you’ve nonetheless been brought here to solve the unsolvable mystery once and for all. Take heart, for I have not left you empty handed. Along with the original clues, I have hidden across the train the notes from the original victims.
Do keep in mind that their conclusions were ultimately incorrect...but perhaps you can figure out where they went wrong, and correct the narrative.
Good luck.
It looks like more was written on here, but ink has been spilled over the last part of the note, obscuring it completely.
Edited 2019-05-14 02:00 (UTC)
I don’t have anything against the little scamp, but I swear to god if they make me babysit him now like I don’t have my own problems to worry about. Like, hello? Three fucking parents and not a one of them can get their head out of the marital-crisis sand.
Edited 2019-05-15 00:27 (UTC)
There's a picture of a young, attractive, and overall exhausted looking young man being accosted for comments in front of a large set of doors. His hands were captured in some kind of movement. The article, or at least what can be read, states the following:
CEO SIMON HILLARD, SON TO THE LATE RICHMOND HILLARD, ASSURES HIS PATRONS THAT THE DIGITAL BREACH DIDN'T RESULT IN THE UNETHICAL REMOVAL OF ANY PRIVATE INFORMATION. THE ONGOING BATTLE WITH THIS ATTACK TO THEIR INSTITUTION IS BEING THOROUGHLY INVESTIGATED AND THEY HOPE TO BRING A CULPRIT INTO CUSTODY SOON. IN THE MEANTIME, DEFENSES ARE BEING FORTIFIED FOR THE SAFETY OF ALL WHO TRUST THEIR FINANCES...
There's a picture of a bright-eyed little girl, holding a bonnet-wearing doll and grinning ear-to-ear. She's missing a few teeth.
A FULL MONTH HAS NOW PASSED SINCE THE TRAGEDY TOOK PLACE, AND THE LOST LIFE OF FIVE-YEAR-OLD PERRY BROOKS HAS YET TO BE PROPERLY ADDRESSED. HER SURVIVING FAMILY HAS DECLINED TO COMMENT FURTHER ON...
He wasn’t using it so it’s fine. Nobody needed it, so it’s fine. There’s nothing anyone could have done to save her anyway. They don’t need to know.
I can’t believe I’m stuck here with that savage.
Stained red from bloody fingerprints, the single word smeared from having been written from a shaking hand. It simply reads:
M E R C Y
The front side of the jigsaw puzzle shows two teenagers relaxing against one another against a tree. Kids with backpacks mill around in the background, unaware of the scene. The girl is petite, with a round face and wide-set eyes, and from where she's tucked under a big arm she gazes up at the boy by her side. Instead of looking back at her, he's looking forward and caught in the middle of a fit of laughter. He's a large boy, but it's hard to make out if his bulk is muscle or not with how baggy his clothes are. On the back, a handwritten letter:
To my husband on our Anniversary,
We've grown a lot since the kids we were when this picture was taken, and our relationship has been a lot like this puzzle. At times fragile, there have been times I feel as if our connection has fallen into pieces...but all I have to do is remember why it is I've always loved you, and then when I pick those pieces back up again, they fit together like they were meant for each other.
Here's to seven more years,
K
The box it came from gives the feel of something long abandoned.
Edited 2019-05-15 19:16 (UTC)
why did I think I knew so much
The headline reads:
SILENCE BROKEN!
Afterward, most of the article has been removed, but one sentence leaps out from a sea of black markings:
...ALTHOUGH INITIALLY REFUSED TO MAKE A COMMENT, WE WERE RECENTLY GIVEN THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT: THIS WHOLE BUSINESS JUST GOES TO SHOW THIS TOWN'S PRIORITIES. JUSTICE SHOULDN'T SEE COLOR, BUT IT SEEMS THAT THE PEOPLE HERE BELIEVE THAT "INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY" IS ONLY A PRIVILEGE MEANT FOR WHITE FOLK.


Page 1 of 3