Siberia Region, Secret Research Institute No. 40120191
Director Peter Roslov's Log
1970/4/20:
A few days ago, a large meteorite was discovered in the Siberian region. Upon investigation, the local garrison found an advanced flight capsule of unknown origin—clearly not technology from our country or the United States. Inside was an infant.
Under orders from the higher-ups, a research institute was rapidly established at the crash site. The infant has been designated "Alien One" and is being kept under tight secrecy for observation and study.
1974/6/26:
Someone had the audacity to suggest dissecting our only living specimen! How did such an imbecile even get assigned here? Which KGB official's illegitimate son slipped through the cracks and landed in my institute for "experience"?
That fool can rot in hell. There's no increased funding, yet they want to exhaust our already limited resources in one go. This has to be a scheme. He must be an American spy sent to sabotage our progress.
I will report him and demand a KGB investigation. They should track every woman he's ever touched and eliminate that idiotic bloodline. This kind of stupidity must be rooted out.
1976/8/14:
Alien One is now six years old. So far, his growth mirrors that of an ordinary human child. Physically, all signs align with human biology—except for his seemingly insatiable appetite.
Some researchers propose feeding him more to test his growth limits. Others worry that such development might unlock uncontrollable abilities. Given our past troubles with mutants, caution is warranted.
I agree with the conservative approach. There's only one of him, and the risk is too high. We're not in 1944 anymore, summoning demons with Nazi rebels on the Scottish coast. That failed experiment only summoned a demon infant, which American scientists supposedly raised into a weapon against supernatural forces.
But we're dealing with an alien, not a demon. Expecting him to be a super-soldier is foolish. If someone wants that, they'd better bring Winter Soldier-level funding. Otherwise, it's just empty talk.
1980/2/19:
The superiors are disappointed with our lack of progress. We still haven't deciphered the flight capsule's technology, nor replicated any of its materials.
Alien One has produced no useful enhancements. His blood and spinal fluid offer no superhuman properties. X-rays show a normal human skeleton.
If I didn't personally know he arrived in that capsule, I'd think he was just a malnourished orphan.
To verify, I reached out to the original soldiers who discovered him. Despite suspicions of a swap, all evidence confirms Alien One was indeed taken from the capsule.
What does this mean? That humans originated from space? That evolution is a galactic coincidence?
Unfortunately, philosophical musings won't satisfy the superiors. They want tangible results.
1983/9/30:
Though we didn't directly participate in the Mutant War in Egypt, we gained significant intelligence—especially on the terrifying abilities displayed.
All superhuman research institutions were reprimanded for slow progress. Thirteen years of funding and still nothing useful.
What do they want—immortality through virgin blood? That's absurd. Might as well start researching vampires; at least there are plenty of legends about them in Eastern Europe.
Alien One must hold the key to human evolution. He resembles us too much—there must be a genetic connection. Perhaps our tech just isn't advanced enough to observe what needs to be seen.
I should shift focus to genetics, where secrets might hide in plain sight. After all, a species that builds spacecraft surely has advanced biotechnology too.
To continue this work, I agreed to hand over the alien flight capsule. We never managed full reverse engineering, partly because I feared damaging it. That caution may have cost us.
The U.S. Strategic Defense Initiative, announced in March, has our leadership on edge. They're pressing for rapid development of our own space technologies.
In exchange for the capsule and a streamlined research team, we've avoided severe funding cuts. Some funds are even being redirected to Alien One. Hopefully, this compromise brings a breakthrough.
1986/12/8:
The shift in leadership priorities appears positive, but I'm skeptical. Many projects are being shut down, and our institute is now under observation.
At least Alien One is now an adolescent. His development allows us to attempt tests previously deemed too dangerous. We'll be conducting more extreme evaluations of his physiology.
I hope this leads to meaningful results.
1988/1/7:
These damned policies are affecting not just our motherland, but our allies as well. Germany is becoming unstable—the muzzle on the wolf is slipping.
Funding is a nightmare. Supplies that used to be allocated must now be bought with rubles, and prices are skyrocketing.
I fear we may face the same fate as the Weimar Republic—hyperinflation and chaos.
I've reached out to old connections for off-the-books funding and supplies. It's risky, but necessary.
There's a glimmer of hope in Alien One. His healing ability isn't as rapid as mutant self-repair, but he recovers far faster than normal humans, often without scarring.
Finally, we have undeniable proof that Alien One isn't human. His genome defies all known structures. No existing genetic technique can fully decipher his DNA.
This cannot be replicated or faked. The conclusion is clear: Alien One is a true extraterrestrial.
Yet, even this doesn't satisfy the superiors. They demand practical applications—a super-soldier serum or weapons for space warfare.
To continue the research, I must trade what little I have left. Some of these trades are dangerous, involving questionable sources.
But I can't stop now. The mystery is so close. Alien One is like a goddess lifting the corner of her skirt—teasing, elusive, divine.
I just need the key. The inspiration. The opportunity.
1989/11/9:
Damn it. The Berlin Wall has fallen. East Germany is collapsing.
Doubt is spreading—not just among intellectuals, but the common people too. They see the lies and broken promises.
Whether our ideological path is right or wrong, something is deeply wrong with how it's being executed.
I pray someone with sense will take control and restore order. I am on the brink of discovery. I cannot afford interference now.
1990/8/1:
Damn it! I've been told by old friends in the Cheka that the KGB is watching me.
Why? I've been loyal—to the state, to the ideology, to the mission. Everything I've done is for the future.
Are they trying to silence me? Because of some new plan that I don't know about?
Why must I be sacrificed?
I won't leave. I'll stay until the very end. This is my life's work, and I will not abandon it. Not now. Not when I am so close.
This is the final log dated August 1st.