<center>Medical Logs of Maxwell Warrington</center>

January 17th, 2378

A new disease is spreading throughout the globe. Many are calling it The Death, while some of the more dramatic media outlets have tagged it The Unforgiving Death. Operatic as it may seem, it is nonetheless proving true. This illness does not seem to favor the weak over the strong, and none are spared. Even the healthiest of people are dropping like flies. An old college of mine has contacted me from Japan, asking that I meet him and a small group of others in our field to discuss possible solutions. I have requested that my wife, Jolene, stay behind and put her gifted mind to work in our laboratory in my absence. She is not happy about it, but seems to understand. My transport arrives early tomorrow.

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January 29th, 2378

After nearly two weeks in Japan, we are still no closure to a cure. Over 30% of Earth's population has been infected, and the numbers are steadily rising. The greatest minds of the Scientific and Medical fields are coming together, communicating from their chosen labs, working day and night. My darling Jolene is one of them, as am I. We are clueless as anyone, but we put on warm smiles and promise the public quick relief. Whatever guilt our lies inflict upon up, we ignore them with the knowledge that, even more important than our formulas and tests, hope must not be allowed to die.

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February 8th, 2378

Plant and animal life has begun to die off. Stores are swiftly running out of fresh produce as farmers are unable to provide for themselves, let alone others. The exposure to the affected crops may increase their risk of contracting the ailment, as many are dying. What few fields are left, are slowly dwindling. The rate of fatality has reached 47%, and is still climbing. Jolene is currently working on a new serum that shows promise in protecting the flora, but nothing compatible with human or animal DNA.

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February 21st, 2378

I have received a few documents from my compatriots - the media has begun calling us The Order - and it seems they have made a few breakthroughs, but nothing substantial. Jolene has nearly perfected her serum, and aims to distribute it world wide shortly. This is indeed a miracle, as now many people are dying not only of The Death, but also starvation. Still, there are moments when we look at one another, my beautiful wife and I, and I can feel the darkness we both strive to hide behind our eyes.

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March 15th, 2378

Many of our colleges have been overtaken by the illness. Our numbers drop, will death soars. 63%, in such a short period of time. Jolene's serum has been shipped through the globe, and my heart swells with pride. She is my all, my everything, and her mind never fails to amaze me. Inspire me. Factories are producing it in truckloads. Crops are being saved, or at the very least restored. We are still no closure to a cure.

To save the flora of our world is such a wondrous thing. But what good will lush grass and fragrant fruit trees do us when our species is obliterated?

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April 23rd, 2378

It is unthinkable. I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around it. The Order has found something we believe may be monumental in finding a cure. After a public announcement, a small group of rebels has formed, declaring that we are going against God's plan. They have come together, calling themselves The Disciples, and aim to destroy our work. Already, several laboratories and hospitals have been burned to the ground. I do not understand this carnage, what they could possibly gain from slowing our work.

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June 2nd, 2378

Jolene has been trying to console me for nearly a week, but it is useless. The Disciples managed to infiltrate one of our labratories and steal the very enzyme that could prove to be the cure. All notes and records were destroyed. Several doctors were shot, and killed. I could use a drink, if only alcohol had not become a precious commodity.

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August 30th, 2378

All hopes of a cure are gone. But new hope has dawned. Together, Jolene and I have devised a plan to build a quarantine. Those already infected cannot be helped, but at least we can ensure the survival of the human race by protecting those still healthy. We are keeping it as silent as possible, lest The Disciples find a way to bring us to ruin.

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December 22st, 2378

It's here. It's done. Only 300,000 people left, but they are safe now. The world is gone, destroyed behind the walls we have built. But we are safe. Our quarantine (though the people do not know it is such) is called Prisma. The Perfect City. We have created an entire world, small as it may be, that is protected from the dangers outside. The Disciples still roam, but much smaller in numbers, and we are taking measures to ensure that they do not harm what we have worked so hard for.

The people are happy, although I wonder how long it will last. Humanity was never meant to be caged. Still, this is the only solution. For now. Jolene and I still work, day and night, to find a way to fix the horrible death we have witness.

In the meantime,
welcome to <u>Our World</u>.