Hello. It's me. Everything is falling apart.
Disintegrating. Before my very eyes. I may be having hallucinations, despite what that quack
Dr. Williams tells me. I don't trust him. He's up to no good. I can
tell. I've been watching him slip downstairs to the room behind the old pantry, the one with the wire-reinforced windows that have been painted over from the inside with some crumbly-looking cheap
brown paint. It's where they've set up the Resonator. I watched them move it into that room last night. I was coming back upstairs from the cellars where I'd been doing some digging around and I nearly
blundered right into the broad backside of a
sweaty ape of a guy who was huffing, puffing and lugging along great jumbly chunks of
machine-
parts and
bizarre apparatus on a dolly. I hung back in the stairwell, in the shadows, and I watched.
This is the second or third time that they've moved this
infernal contraption. But why? Why do they move it around? What are they trying to accomplish? It's a
mystery that I fully intend to solve, one way or another.
