I saw DeMello again a few days ago. We all knew he'd be compromised, but I don't think anyone expected it to happen overnight, or for it to be such a violent affair. Just a week or so ago, I met him near the test chamber; he seemed fine back then, a bit on edge but fine, nobody could blame him. Everyone's stressed these days.

Then he snapped.

I barely survived the encounter; he wasn’t so lucky.

Damn it, DeMello.

The object has been placed back in storage for the time being. I thought preventing escape attempts would be enough. I was wrong; it was break-ins we had to look out for. I've taken some extra security measures; now I'm the only person in the whole damn lab that can go and see it, and even I try to avoid it. It's become clear that the object affects the minds of those who spend too much time studying it; I'm lucky to have been spared, as most of my work takes place in the office.

In order to prevent other incidents, I was forced to dismiss most non-essential staff and spend the last of our allotted budget on armed security. They were supposed to just be scarecrows to stand in front of doors and keep people from trying something stupid, but it didn’t help. There was another attempted break-in today: Richardson.

He gained access to storage and tried to bludgeon the object to death with a microscope while screaming something about how he had to stop the disease. He's not the first or second compromised person to rant about diseases, which of course makes no sense. We've run countless tests on the object; it is not ill, nor does it carry any pathogens of note.

Richardson's loss will be felt. He was a fine scientist and a good friend.

In the aftermath, the rest of my staff confronted me in the break room. I try to be patient with those affected by the object's influence--they can't help the degeneration of their faculties--but I must admit I found the ordeal infuriating. They claimed I was the one who had crossed the line, and blamed DeMello and Richardson's deaths on me. As if I had any choice in the matter. Those two were compromised and violent; they threatened my life and that of the object, and all I could do was defend myself and it. The group didn’t listen, of course. They proceeded to insist that I let them in to see the object. I, of course, said no. I knew they were all compromised, and they proved as much as when they insisted I did so, so that they could, and I quote, ‘kill her and cure this disease.’

It pains my heart to have my friends and employees locked up in their offices, but they are too far gone. Their accusations were senseless, but it was their anthropomorphization of the object that concerned me the most. It is not a 'her', and it is not, as they seemed to think, a person. It is the object, and that is plain to see. Its flawless mimicry of the human form, speech, and behavior are nothing but symptoms of its yet unexplained influence on the human mind. Its life is an illusion.

As of this afternoon, it has compromised everyone in this lab except myself and the security crew. This means I'm the only one with the expertise required to continue our experiments, which unfortunately will require me to come into contact with the object.

Once my work is finished, I will call for my staff to be collected and, hopefully, cured of their madness. But until then, I must work.

The security crew has been whispering when they think I'm not listening. I hope they are not compromised, too; then again, if push comes to shove, I'm the only one with override access to the door controls.

All of these distractions must not stop me from continuing my work. The object must be examined further. Its properties, its response to stimuli, its behavior--these are questions that, if answered, will change everything. I must understand it! I must understand why it does what it does, and how, and what can be done to prevent it; most of all, I must preserve it so that it may be further studied. Until the object is understood, it must be kept from harm.

I am the only one who can be trusted with it.