FILE: KOSKELA

FROM THE AUDIO LOGS OF DR. VEERA KOSKELA,

POSITION UNCLEAR

RESEARCHER OF THE SALUS INSTITUTION, SWEDEN

Not to be seen by anyone without authorisation of the Salus Institution. Intellectual property of the Salus Institution. Possession or access to this file is expressly forbidden. Unauthorised access is to be immediately reported to a superior officer for court martial. 

TRANSCRIPTION PROVIDED FROM AUDIO AND TRANSLATED AS LOGS ALTERNATED  BETWEEN FINNISH AND ENGLISH. 

The following are a series of logs from the files of Dr. Veera Koskela that track her interactions and experimentations with Micheal Roux, the only subject we have medical samples and proof of being immune to "The Weeping" to date. Koskela herself was...difficult, and there is potiential for missing logs.

LOG 1:

Hi, Vee here. Fuck… run that back. I can’t be starting research logs like that. 

LOG 2:

My Name is Veera Lynn Koskela, and I’m supposed to be an Intern. At least I was until this whole pathogen fuckery started. These days I’m not treated as one, they just call me Doctor. Not that I wasn’t one as an intern–I graduated medical school like everyone else–but nobody talks to interns like they know what they’re doing. 

And they expect me to know what I’m doing. I don’t. So bare with me here. 

Apparently, I’m one of the only remaining medical doctors on staff. It makes me want to scream. Because, yes, I’m an MD, but I do research, not surgery! If I have to look at one more person’s [REDACTED] crawling into the wastes and turning into a monster might actually be preferable… I’m a neurologist, for god’s sake! At least, that's what my specialty was going to be.

Sorry, got off-topic. Anyway, they want me to study these fucked-up zombie things. Every researcher keeps their own log or whatever, so I’m talking into this stupid voice recorder like a crazy person. Who listens to these, anyway?  

LOG 3:

I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m Finnish, not Swedish. I’m a dual citizen, whatever, but I grew up in Finland most my life. Only came back to Sweden for school because of the goddamned Institute ‘Jag älskar dig Sverige!’ this, ‘Jag älskar dig Sverige!’ that gets old real fast. Salus may be one of the most advanced facilities in Europe, but they still pay their researchers like shit. 

Not that it matters now I’m locked in a bunker, but I digress. 

Anyway, these things. The Weepers, I guess we’ve taken to calling them, since they grab at their faces like they’re crying and all that. I’m here to study them–maybe we can find a cure? I’ll admit, I’m fucking fascinated. Not what I expected to do as an intern at all. Although, if the world hadn’t ended, I guess I would be a doctor on my own anyway by now. At least then I would have gotten the proper training. 

But poking at living corpses might be far more interesting. 

LOG 4:

Calling something a “living corpse” is ultimately paradoxical. It should not be possible to describe a corpse as “living,” yet that’s exactly what is happening. Obviously, we can’t exactly touch the Weepers, but from our crude scans they seem to have little in the way of higher brain function. 

We even had a prisoner of war cut open a restrained one. It didn’t even flinch, like it didn’t feel pain. Its goddamn digestive system had dried up inside its body. It doesn’t make sense. Any living thing would have died of sepsis months ago, but it didn’t look rotten. Just...dull, like a corpse I practiced on in school. My only theory is that basic body functions are shut down, and the only thing running is the nervous system and parts of the brain that control base urges and motor skills. Little electrical impulses piloting around a dead corpse. Creepy as shit. 

Of course, the prisoner was infected soon after by the request. [PERSONEL REDACTED] may be a cold bitch for using them as test subjects, but at least they’re useful in that way. Maybe they’ll help us find a cure. Either way, it’s preferable to looking at [REDACTED] all day. I got into research to avoid this situation, but here we are. The prisoner cut his hand with a scalpel. We’ve never studied direct bodily fluid contact before–we know it’s guaranteed to make them sick, but no idea how long it takes. 

LOG 5:

It took fifty hours and fourty-two minutes for subject X-21, the prisoner I mentioned in the last log, to start displaying symptoms. I don’t like that time window, it’s just long enough to feel like he might have been okay and not been infected. Just long enough for someone to be able to pass the infection onto another after they think they’re in the clear. 

It seems like with this, there’s no such thing. 

We were conversing, actually, when it happened. Or I was attempting to, and he was glowering at me. Then the prisoner complained of a headache, breaking his silence to ask me for something to take. 

I gave him painkillers mixed with a sedative then, because I knew. 

It devolved quickly after that, and it wasn’t pretty. The sedatives seemed to have little effect, but it is difficult to tell from this one experiment, of course. If there’s anything to note out of this: they are remarkably difficult to kill. Perhaps this was the intention? 

Addendum: Holy fuck, were they trying to create super soldiers?

LOG 6:

Four gunshots straight to the brain. 

My autopsy…necropsy? I don’t know what to count it as, but it revealed something. The brain was completely obliterated inside the skull. While the first shot should have killed him, would have killed any normal human, it took four direct hits to put the thing down. 

But among the slush of a ruined brain was patches of tissue death. Cell death, like a prion disease. I couldn’t take samples as it would be a hazard, since we don’t know how this thing really spreads yet, but even in my PPE I could see it so clearly under the microscope. 

I also re-ran simulations of the gunshots. The first was not a direct hit, but did catch the forehead, damaging the frontal lobe. No reaction. The second, temporal. Destroyed and standing. Two shots to the back of the head, near the brainstem. 

The thing shouldn’t have stood after one shot, let alone four. It took complete and utter brain destruction to kill the thing–the electrical signals had to be made to stop firing. Manually. 

There has to be a better way to end these things. Otherwise…well, I don’t want an otherwise. 

LOG 7:

I’ve abandoned my prisoner work: I have brilliant news. We found someone who’s immune. Entirely, blessedly, immune. I wasn’t sure if it was possible, but this has to be the key. This is how we figure out how to end this thing. He’s in transit from America. An American, of all things! I can never say they never fail to surprise me. His name is Michael Roux, and he was apprehended when he wouldn’t give up his dog. The dogs, they’re carriers. The madman, somehow, wasn’t affected even though the dog clearly is. He broadcasted his whole experience on the air, too. 

They’re bringing the dog, too. That was his only condition, crazy bastard. And I think the higher-ups would like to explore the affect on dogs more…safely. After Anders, everyone is hesitant. I always liked dogs. My parents always kept one around when I was young. 

[There’s a silence on the tape, Koskela breathes in deeply]

I hope dad is ok. 

LOG 8:

KOSKELA: My name is Doctor Veera Koskela, and I am here with Michael Roux, an unaffected carrier of the weeping. We are separated by plexiglass, and there is a microphone on each side transmitting. 

ROUX: This thing on? I can hear ya’ over there. 

KOSKELA: Copy that. You’re good to go, Michael. My English is...hopefully good enough. My poor British mother is rolling in her grave. 

ROUX: Oh, it’s Mike, Doctor, and you sound great. 

KOSKELA: Veera. Call me Vee. 

ROUX: I read ya’, Vee. Damn, it’s so…weird to get to talk to someone. You’re the first person I’ve heard since I was arrested. 

KOSKELA: I’m the first person? Did nobody speak to you during transit? 

ROUX: No. I was tossed in a room and left to rot. Rena is brilliant, but she’s no conversationalist. By the way, she needs something to do. Television, maybe. 

KOSKELA: [incredulously] The dog needs…a television? 

ROUX: I keep telling everyone, she’s different after this whole thing. It’s like being sick changed her. 

KOSKELA: We’ve…observed that. It’s incredible. We haven’t been able to explore it until…now. 

ROUX: Something happened to the last guy. 

KOSKELA: Pardon?

ROUX: He lost it, didn’t he? Did you know him? Did he have a dog?

KOSKELA: His name was Anders. It wasn’t his dog, it was found by another researcher. A dog that was deployed told us about her handler after the Weeping. 

ROUX: We’re calling it the Weeping now? What happened to the dog?

KOSKELA:  Yes, the Weeping. 

ROUX: The dog? 

[there’s a notable silence. Roux sighs]

ROUX: Dead. 

KOSKELA: Yes

ROUX: Nothing is happening to Rena. Or I don’t cooperate. 

KOSKELA: I won’t let anything happen to her, Mike. 

Koskela stops the recording here, although her report stated they talked for two hours. 

LOG 9:

KOSKELA: Mike is very intelligent, insightful, and lucid. Moreso than some of my fellow researchers, heh. Hell, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone my age in…years. 

And he only has a high school education. I was baffled. He told me it was “too expensive,” to go to university? Turns out, the States still charge for education. In the year 2141, I can’t believe it. Unbelievable. He could have been a doctor. Or a veterinarian, with how much he loves that dog of his. I’ll admit, she is fantastic. 

Also, she’s brilliant. It’s like talking to a person. I had to pull some favors, but I got someone to build me a panel like the one Anders had built to communicate. Mike talked me into getting the thing a screen, too, I can’t believe him. 

I can’t believe that I did it. Maybe I’m just glad for someone to talk to. 

LOG 10:

[The following is a part of a log in which Koskela was talking Roux through performing pathological testing on Weeper brain tissue via the same microphone set up. D-549, referred to as “Rena” in the log, is also present]

ROUX: I’m telling ya’, Vee, we need to use these dogs for something. Maybe they can clear out the Weepers, or-

KOSKELA: Mike if you don’t stop waving your hands around you’re going to throw my sample, and if you throw my sample, I’m going to be very upset with you. 

ROUX: [laughs] I don’t think you’d be able to be upset with me

KOSKELA: Michael. 

ROUX: Don’t you dare “Michael” me, Veera Koskela

KOSKELA: Please, Koskela is my father’s name

ROUX: You’re not married? 

KOSKELA: [chuckles] No way in hell. Why would you think I was married? 

ROUX: Oh, I don’t know, maybe the gold ring you’ve got on your finger. 

KOSKELA: Oh… it was my mother’s. It really doesn’t fit me well, but it’s all I’ve got. 

ROUX: Huh. Always figured you had someone, since y’know, you’re not going insane. 

KOSKELA: I was an intern when I got stuck down here, I didn't have time for that kinda thing. Besides, by that logic, you’ve got someone. 

ROUX: Fuck no, they haven’t had you listen to my broadcasts? I know for a fact they have them. 

KOSKELA: I haven’t, and besides, you’ve got Rena. 

ROUX: And you. 

KOSKELA: I-uh… [sound of a rolling chair] If you wave my sample one more time Mike. 

LOG 11:

KOSKELA: I listened to Mike’s broadcasts today, after our experiment, which turned into us just talking. He said something that made me think, and I couldn’t sleep without listening to them.  He sounds so…different now. Determined. He won’t leave [PERSONEL REDACTED] alone about his idea with the dogs, and honestly, I think he’s onto something. They can come and go on the surface, and bring us the information we need. We just need dogs, and frankly, I don’t think those will be too difficult to get ahold of. 

Mike can interface directly with them, which is something we couldn’t do before. 

[Koskela pauses, and something like a pager beeps in the background]

Oh, right. Back to my report. 

Mike is infertile. Wasn’t my idea to get samples, it was actually suggested by [PERSONEL REDACTED] in case his immunity is genetic. We think it is, but now there’s no chance of passing it on. Not that…nevermind. 

I was the one to ask him about it. [PERSONEL REDACTED] is too much of a fucking coward to do it himself. Mike turned red, I turned red, it was a mess. I-I don’t really know what to say now. He tried to defuse the situation with a joke that I won’t repeat here. 

It made it worse. 

Anyway. I have to go into Mike’s quarters for a blood draw. I’ve never even seen him without a piece of glass between us, and now I’m going to be digging around in his arm for a vein. It’s not like he can do it himself–cutting up dead pieces of weepers is so different than inserting a needle into your own vein. 

I just hope it doesn’t make this weirder. 

LOG 12:

KOSKELA: I’m not sure how many of these I’ve made, but I’ve been through decontamination and my recorder is inside my hazmat suit. I’m recording the blood draw, just for recordkeeping purposes, I guess. Maybe. I don’t know, really, why I’m doing it. Mike doesn’t even know I’m coming in here. Maybe I just wanna record the surprise.

[Bootsteps, followed by nervous breathing]

KOSKELA: Knock knock

ROUX: Holy shit, Vee? 

[Rustling of clothing, a grunt from Koskela]

KOSKELA: You’re not gonna want to hug me when I show you what I have. 

ROUX: Are you kidding? I’ve never actually like…seen you. 

KOSKELA: I don’t think a hazmat counts

ROUX: You’re shorter than I thought

KOSKELA: Rude

ROUX: Just an observation

KOSKELA: [Sighs] Well, for that I’m going to show you what I have. I need blood, Mike. 

ROUX: You’ve got plenty of your own. Unless you’re anemic? 

KOSKELA: I’m not anemic, I need samples. 

ROUX: Oh, nonono I don’t do needles. Why don’t you play a game of poker with me? Gettin’ real sick of solitaire. 

KOSKELA: After everything, you’re afraid of…needles? 

LOG 13:

ROUX: Vee I’m really not liking this. 

KOSKELA: I do blood draws all the time, I promise it barely feels like a pinch. 

ROUX: Don’t lie, how often do you actually do them?

KOSKELA: [After some time] I’ve done a few, lately. 

ROUX: That doesn’t count as doing them all the time. 

KOSKELA: I am a M.D. Medical Doctor. I can do it, trust me. 

ROUX: Fine. I might not forgive you if you mess up. 

KOSKELA: That’s a lie. Besides, I won’t mess up. Sit at the table, please. 

[Snapping of a rubber band, opening of plastic rustles in the background]

KOSKELA: Arm? 

[Silence]

What, need me to hold your hand? 

MIKE: Deal. 

KOSKELA: That was not an-

MIKE: I said deal. 

[Koskela's notes record that her stay in Mike's chambers were longer than the tapes would indicate. It is unclear if the rest of the file was purposefully deleted or simply recorded over]

LOG 14:

KOSKELA: I’m standing here in full hazmat, looking Mike’s blood samples and they show nothing abnormal. I don’t get it. We’d need some sort of genotyping, or something, to see what the hell stops him from losing it. I don’t know, I’m not a geneticist. I look at brains, usually. 

I’d like to look at Mike’s. Maybe that’s part of the reason he can’t get sick, but we don’t have an MRI in here, and I sure as hell can’t cut him open. I wouldn’t even if I could. Exploratory surgery in a place like this is…ridiculous.

Not to mention I have to treat his blood like a biohazard. 

He is a biohazard. I cannot believe he pulled that stunt when I was drawing him,. And the card game after. Men. So bold, and for what? Being separated by a glass window? 

I like him. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. Rena may be a person, in his words, but he’s lonely.

And I guess I am too. 

[Something crashes, and a long series of muttered Finnish curses follow. There’s a moment of quiet, then, a shriek.]

LOG 15:

KOSKELA: I’ve fucked up. 

[Silence, a sigh]

I’m dead. A living corpse. This might be my last log. Someone moved my centrifuge and I didn’t notice and I was distracted and it fell when I turned it on and…

I cut my hand through the gloves when handling the ruined sample. Direct bodily fluid contact. How the hell am I going to tell Mike? I need to go…away. I can’t hurt anyone. Not him, not anybody. 

I need to tell him. I can’t leave him hanging. [PERSONEL REDACTED] will never give him a straight answer if I just vanish. 

His proposal for the canine program had just gotten approved, too. 

Nobody ever taught me how to write a Will. I’m twenty-six. No, twenty-seven. Right. That. 

And I’m going to die. I’ve got fifty hours and fourty-two minutes. No, less than that now. 

LOG 15:

[The sound of an automatic door whirring reverberates, then, footsteps]

ROUX: Veera! I didn’t know you were coming in, taking me up on that rematch? 

[Rustling as Koskela unclips her helmet]

ROUX: What the fuck are you doing, do you want to die? 

[Footsteps]

KOSKELA: I’m already dead, Mike. 

ROUX: What the fuck, no Vee, this isn’t funny. 

KOSKELA: I came in contact with your blood samples. 

ROUX: That doesn’t mean-

KOSKELA: It does. 

ROUX: You don’t know that!

KOSKELA: It was my research. I do know that.

ROUX: but-

KOSKELA: I've got fourty-three hours left, so shut up and kiss me so we can play that card game I owe you. 

This is the last recorded audio log of Dr. Veera Koskela before she was found, deceased, in air-locked quarters. No cause of death was ever listed due to inability to perform an autopsy or toxicology report. With her was a makeshift will and testament dispersing her belongings, notably a gold ring to Michael Roux which was followed by a threat towards the director. 

It read as follows: 

INFECTED. 

YOU WILL BE TOO IF YOU DO NOT CARRY OUT THE CANINE PROGRAM. I’VE [VERY LONG REDACTED]. THIS IS NO DYING WISH, BUT A DEMAND. 

Salus behöver detta för sin överlevnad!

It was unable to determine if she were bluffing or if she had the knowledge of our airlock system to fulfill her threat prior to her death, but the Canine Program was pre-approved and fast-tracked to success regardless. The entire upper level research unit that she had inhabited was given to Roux in order to manage once extra airlocks were in place. 

Despite her glaring lack of ethics, Koskela was instrumental in the foundation of the Canine forces and our understanding of “Weepers” as we know them.