The corrosion of the mind

August 19th, 9:48

The entire structure felt warm and damp, like being in the stomach of a creature. Today was my first time back in the structure since a while ago. This time I went all the way down to the fifth floor. Once you pass the fourth floor, the air gets relatively close to room temperature, which I would not expect, seeing as the outside is freezing and we aren't that deep down, but the air does get extremely humid. You need a pretty big oxygen tank to last for 5 hours, so we have to carry it on our backs, making the trip quite difficult. On the upside, we got to see much more of that gray plant and also quite a few new murals. Finally, some explanation of what the demonic-like figures in the murals are as well. According to some inscriptions, they are spirits of those who rejected the orb. I was kind of expecting that to be the answer, but it's still good to have it confirmed.

August 21st, 2:50 am

Last night I had an awful dream. I dreamt of the tall people. They looked just like people, but something wasn't right with their faces, just a bit off-centered. They spoke in a language I couldn't understand, a series of clicks and whirring at different pitches. I found myself looking at their limbs that seemed just slightly too long, and when I looked into their faces, I felt my soul falling apart, as if they could see through the shell of my body, and pierce the safety and comfort of my soul. It's only me and *. Why do I have a feeling there used to be more? This feeling is similar to deja vu.

6:42am

I find myself spending less time working than I'd like. I end up procrastinating most of the time. I don't seem to be getting anywhere, and there are only a few more days of being here. The only noteworthy thing I found was an interesting mural but with no inscriptions explaining what it meant. It shows a person walking from level 1 to 10, and then at level 10 they seem to worship the orb, and then the orb absorbs their body. The figure is then released from the ball corroded, almost like it was eaten away. This figure then descends through the ground below. I also translated a new passage from the inscriptions. This passage talks about two brothers. One brother chooses to follow the rules and orders given by the orb, and the other chooses to follow the demonic figures. The brother who follows the demonic figure tries to plead with the other brother to follow him, but the other brother seems to become more and more distant. As time goes on, the brother who followed the orb vanishes without anyone remembering his name, who he was, or what he had done. The brother who followed the demonic figures mourned his death, but nobody mourned with him, for he was the only one who remembered his brother. I find this fascinating, as it seems to imply that the orb not only corrupts people, but also erases their existence from other people's memories, almost as if they never existed.

7:54pm

I have been reading the walls. I don't need help to translate them anymore. I don't know what they are saying, but I understand them. It's like when you reread a book in a language you don't know, you know what the book means and what it is saying, but you don't know the words. It's fascinating. I have no explanation as to why, but each time I look at it, it's as if someone were whispering something in my ear. I want to leave this place, it's scaring me, things don't feel normal, they don't feel right.

11:24pm

Every passing day I hear the whispers of the demonic figures telling me to leave, to run, to never come back, but the structure draws me in, makes me feel like I don't ever want to leave, like I can't ever leave. I have been sleeping in the structure. I no longer feel comfortable without it. I can feel the strain on my mind and body. Maybe I should listen to the demonic figures, the ones who rejected the structure, the ones who rejected the orb, the orb, the lost and sacred treasure of the structure that should have never been unearthed. Why is it me, only me? Why is no one else here with me? I am by myself here, all by myself. My mother used to tell a joke: There is no bell that rings for insanity. I never really got what was funny about it. I wonder, if there was a bell, would it have rung for me? The only thought that goes through my head is:

“It corrodes and eats my true inner self, and I welcome it.”