H-1 UMAN-1

Chapters 1 & 2

Why does no one ever tell me that the end of the world is coming? Then again, Vincent, duh, couldn't you have figured that out yourself? I mean, it's not as if this whole thing isn't your fault.

Okay, hold up. What do you mean, 'your fault?'

Well, that's easy. But then again, maybe not, but hell, I think it's not worth arguing with myself about. I'll let whoever manages to read this (presuming anyone survives the current shitstorm), and let you guys deduce that. If anyone does manage to get their hands on this journal (not a diary!), that should mean that we've succeeded, and the killer machines at my door will no longer be trying to kill me. What the likelihood of that is, I've no damn clue. What I do know is that I'm sorry. Well, yes and no. This whole thing wasn't my fault, I swear to high heaven. But I'm sorry I couldn't have stopped this whole thing sooner.

Okay, down to the basics here. You'll want an explanation of what the hell I'm doing hunkered down in a World War Three era bomb shelter with a bunch of white-hat hackers and CIA spooks. You want that explanation, we're going to need to go back to the beginning. The very beginning. The three fucking years ago sort of beginning.

You really want this? Fine, but only since you're begging. Oh, god, not the puppy eyes, please. I can never resist those. Oh, no, please no!

Ugh, fine, you win. But as I said, this isn't a simple problem. Oh, sure, it started simply enough, but like all shitstorms, it quickly spiralled out of control, and now the whole world's in enough crap- I'll use the softer version of that expletive this time- that I don't know what the hell I'll do. Maybe you will, because you'll be reading this after I'm dead and the situation will be a hell of a lot worse than it is now.

Well, I can hope not. Now, where's that backstory I promised?

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Three Years Earlier

ZIP ***** (CONFIDENTIAL) (REQUIRES CIA LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE)

Okay, the very beginning, like I promised. Well, not the very beginning, that was countless millenia ago, and I wasn't around then. I don't know what was. But anyways, I'm off on another one of my tangents. If you bother to hang around and see this tale to its conclusion, you'll likely come to realize rather quickly that spinning off on tangents is one thing I excel at. In fact, it might be the only thing I excel at. Yeah, that's just about it. Oh, and driving people nuts.

Ugh, here I go again. Seriously, Vincent, stay on task. What was that again? Oh, yeah, yeah, how we got ourselves into this fucking mess. Yeah, good idea. Let's see, where was I? Probably in school. Yeah, that seems right. Add to that a case of the flu, and you'll have a pretty good idea of the circumstances that surround this apocalypse. But what was I doing at school with the flu?

Ask my parents about that one. Oh, wait, you can't. They're dead.

Yeah, just one of the wonderful, wonderful, wonderful 'side effects' of accidentally sneezing on your phone. More on that later.

But seriously, though, what was I doing in school? Well, I guess it's time to go even farther back in time.

My name (just so we can start from there) is Vincent. Vincent Schorennherr. I can imagine what you're picturing right now- a teenaged, athletic, intelligent boy. The first two, yeah. The third and final, not so much. Wrong gender, buddy. There's a girl behind these hopefully legible scratchings, not a boy, and that's where this problem has its real roots.

My parents (that would be Joaquin and Angelina Schorennherr) wanted a boy. They'd been trying for years, to no avail, and they wanted someone to carry on the family name, so when they finally got something, regardless of gender, they named me Vincent (Hooray, a boy's name! You have no idea how many times I got letters addressed to a Mister Vincent Schorennherr. Oh, great, another tangent. Sorry.) Why though, I don't know, I get (or got, rather) mocked for it all the time. My parents didn't care about any of that garbage (to put it politely) and insisted that I go to school, each and every day, regardless of what I was going through.