Protected Area 63
rating: +12+x

''Brain death stated. Termination of D-671 successful. Time of death 13:43 local time.''

"The new method appears to be working."

"Don't you consider it too inhumane, sir? He was aware until the last moment."

"Of course not. Preparation BF-XA kills in a manner identical to natural death. It's a brilliant mix of highly complex chemicals. The organs slowly cease to function so that eventually the energy-deprived brain will also give up. Presumably D-671 saw what people report after surviving the clinical death. He rather won't tell us that."

"He saw famous tunnel and the paradise?"

"He could even see a black rectangle on the Moon. I don't really care. I fulfilled my task. Now we just need to make a report, and personnel will take the corpse to dissecting table."

"You are not even a little curious about what happened to him, sir?"

"Far from it. I don't care. Which is basically true."

"How can you say that? After all he was a human just like you."

"In my work you can. And about me existing as a human… well, that's another matter. You don't know everything yet."

"What does that mean?"

"Allow us to go from here, we have nothing to do here. And about your question… Let me explain some very important details to you."

"I am listening impatiently."

"As a reminder, we are in the Protected Area 63. Do you know what these names mean?"

"Of course. Term Protected refers to facilities free from anomalies, which cannot contain any such degeneration. Area, because it is a secret and strictly secured facility."

"Bravo. And do you know why these two names were used together? Strictly secured, secret place without anomalies. What's the point? It would seem none."

"Mmm… I don't know… A hint?"

"Protected Area 63 is a place, in which a little over a half of personnel is Class-D. However, they don't serve as testers for us. We don't need them for practically anything, but they are still crowds of them here."

"But for what purpose?"

"Class-D personnel is temporary. After doing what is awaited from them, they become useless. We can't just let them go. We can't practically do it at all. The procedures order that their memory will be cleaned, and they reused, or if they are completely worn out then we will carry out… finish."

"The termination. It's well-known."

"Exactly. The termination. The majority of facilities does not have the appropriate equipment to perform this procedure. If so, these are single-person gas chambers or a bullet in the back of the head from a guard somewhere in a secluded place. Unnecessary wasting of time and resources, which could be used for research. Our task fills the gap in the procedures."

"Which gap?"

"Protected Area 63 is nothing more than a prison consisting only of death cells in which the average life expectancy is 2 days. After this time used, useless scum that makes up the Class-D is disposed of in the most ingenious ways possible, while minimizing stress for these former laboratory rats."

"So this place is a death factory, place of execution for many lives."

"What did you think? Pizzeria with home delivery? No, our task is to get rid of what is unneeded. Every month, transports with new Class-D deliveries come to us from our and surrounding countries, which are dropped off at the gate from where the paths lead to their new, last homes. They won't enjoy them for a long time. They have nothing to enjoy. Tight, concrete blocks stacked next to each other, in the middle a dilapidated bunk without bedding and something that can only be called toilet in theory. Food is also miserable. Water and tasteless food sticks that only have to clog the stomach to avoid hunger. Nothing more. Class-D often knows what's going on. Luckily, there will always be toadies, who to get an extra day will snitch on a friend from a neighboring cell, for example for trying to escape or inciting rebellion. Well, maybe they will get this day. But what will it do to them? They won't escape anyway. They are too weak, and each attempt ends with you finding out what it's like to have a rifle bullet in your skull."

"It is no different from the death camps in the III Reich…"

"A very accurate observation I must admit, I once noticed it myself. However, somebody has to do the dirty work while others like you are sitting at the desks or overseeing experiments sipping that shit from machines that you call coffee. Believe me, after a while everyone gets used to it. Some too much…"

"What does that mean?"

"You're asking too many questions. But it's good, because better to ask the way than to go astray. I'll tell you later. And now, do you see those rust-eaten metal doors?"

"I see."

"They have a glass. What do you see behind them?"

"A tiled corridor that turns sharply to the right, illuminated by weak orange light bulbs in barred lamps. Is this a basement of some sort?"

"No, but I'll tell you. Put your ear to the glass. Be careful, it's quite cold. What do you hear?"

"Oh shit… What the hell is happening here?"

"What did you hear?"

"Screams… Many screams… women and men… Is this… a gateway to hell?"

"Don't exaggerate. The placard on this door fell off few years ago. Behind this door Sector 2 is located, in which terminations take place on a more massive scale. Though, I admit the gateway to hell is a good comparison. You see, the place where we were a moment ago, Sector 1, and where you complained about this guy on the table, these are just testing rooms."

"Testing? What is done there?"

"Let me finish. This is where new specifics are created, researched and improved, to kill quickly and effectively. Unfortunately, nothing is better at the moment than an atomic bomb. A quick, painless death, before you know it, I'm sorry, you can't figure it out, because you will evaporate a long time ago."

"All of these laboratories are for this? There is a whole block of them there!"

"To be honest, my dear, Protected Area 63 is not just a Class-D slaughterhouse. I lied by saying that Class-D is completely useless for us. In our laboratories, in addition to killing agents, research is carried out on methods of removing memory. That amnestics with names like classes in elementary school are becoming outdated and apparently it is starting to happen that they do not work as they should. Have you ever watched Men in Black? In addition to chemicals, we are working to create something like their lamp to flash on people's eyes. For now, it ended on a machine as huge as locomotive and burned brains. That's a shame, because why poison people with chemistry, if you can immediately destroy those parts of the brain in which the memory has recently formed? Of course, Class-D serves as testers."

"But, sir, you said that only worn-out employees come here…"

"In the paperwork, yes. In reality, we're getting the most out of them. After all, the real slaughterhouse is behind these specially soundproofed doors so that the new staff don't get overly discouraged. You can come here, sit down and read a newspaper in silence, because their structure is that effective. Please note, we stand here for a few minutes and nothing interferes our conversation. Incredible isn't it?"


"It's nice that we agree. Of course, this is just an entrance for staff. Class D is placed on the other side of the building. Do you see this wooden cross, and near it a vase with flowers and few grave candles?"

"Yes, I think I can guess why it was put here…"

"Long time ago weaker personnel of the Area put it here, in memory of the people who are sent from this world behind this door. I will forestall you, you heard it right. In this job you need to be a hard son of a bitch without mercy, to anyone who is not like this is pinned the proverbial patch, in this case of a weak person. Oh well, maybe they'll get used to it over time."

"You have to be mentally ill to enjoy this job!"

"Exactly. I just pointed my gun at you. And what now?"

"Wait, wait, wait, what are you doing, sir? You don't want to…"

"I love this. Don't be afraid, if I needed to kill you, you would have flown through the crematorium chimney long time ago. My dear, this job changes a person. Murders are a commonplace here. Behind this door, the first thing is four gas chambers, built imitating individual rooms: there is a simple bedroom for many, a waiting room and our favorite two rooms with showers. Hidden nozzles pump the already checked substance prepared in tanks, hydrogen cyanide, industrially known as Cyclone B. Unaware of anything, ex-Class-D employees are brought with information about, for example, bathing or waiting for transport. Then the siren activates, which howls for 10 seconds after which the nozzles activate. I don't have to say what happens next. After all, the part of Class-D, which we still use for some time, takes the bodies to the crematorium, where personnel of the same class burns the bodies in ovens. What remains will be poured into a large hole behind the building. We make sure that the ash is smooth, without any bone remains. Since some part will always be carried away by the wind, it is not surprising that local farmers have such good crops. It'll be a bread good as fuck. We award those who help us with red uniforms. No, they are not colored with blood. It's unhygienic. The same participate in tests in laboratories. There is also an entrance to the basement, deep in the depths of this sector. But I can't tell you what's in there. You wouldn't believe it anyway. Well, of course, not all from the D-Class are killed. Sometimes you need to do the necessary research on those who have become forced volunteers to test specifics, and this is done in Sector 3, which is section and vivisection laboratories. The latter is carried out rather without anesthesia. Interesting things can be learned by watching the functioning human body. The most disturbing thing is the scream of the one on whom the procedure is performed. Why did you get pale like that?"


"Ah, you researchers and your fragile psyche. They see anomalies tearing apart, mutating and fuck knows what else they are doing with their victims and they cannot get over the usual mass termination."

"This can't be called the termination now… Is there anyone with a healthy mind except you, sir?"

"Nobody. Actually, not even me. Everyone here, except weak, are insane. Observing mass neutralizations, ha, even operating them, works the same way as an overdose of sedatives. One third of people working here are only suitable for a psychiatric hospital. If you yourself would walk through the cafeteria, you would only notice a bunch of lunatics whose favorite entertainments are Russian roulette, duels and poker where your toes are at stake. And drugs for calming down end as fast as a shittape during a stomach flu epidemic."

"You want to say, sir, that in this place work only lunatics? This is unacceptable! The procedures…"

"Calm down. The procedures continue to function, this is the most important thing. Those who are crazy too much say goodbye to this place once and for all and are transferred to a psychiatric hospital, where they are given amnestics. After this they are usually released for retirement. We are only people. There are no wonderful employees. Yes my dear, no one is quite normal here. If you do not want to participate in terminations, and research laboratories are not your thing, you can work on Class-D cells. Although there are also flowers among the guards there. Recently, four of them were terminated with their victims for a mass rape. We don't mess around here. The next day they were replaced by new ones. It's true, we have people that got it together. Our lab guys. They work here voluntarily, but they either know or don't know about terminations, or they don't want to know, and they throw out all such thoughts for peace of mind."

"So there is someone with healthy senses…"

"Well, you could say that. But is it healthy to deliberately work on how to kill someone and then look at the result of a failed experiment? Fucking vitamins… Returning, the remainder, i.e. the guards, are crowds of those who received too much reprimands, and after resocialisation were sent here for a specific punishment. Area 63 is a dumpster in the Foundation's machine. Unfortunately, there are really pathological deviations. We had a case when the new flipped out so hard that he kidnapped a young and pretty girl from Class-D. We reacted immediately. When we arrived, the girl was already dead. The head was cut off with a knife, as well as the breasts. The son of a bitch was kneeling near her, holding his damn cock in her artery and her breasts cut off on her vest. The bloody face covered the mad smile of the motherfucker. We shot him on the spot. I personally snatched a rifle from one of the guards to get the whole magazine in that shit. I will never forget that crazy laugh when bullets ripped his tissue. A real horror. And everything was registered by a security camera. It is not often to delete newly recorded material. It's a pity this girl. After all, it turned out that her anus was completely massacred. The guy had to have fun, pfu! Let him fry in hell. Hmm… Damn, you made me taste for pizza."

"It's insane! Does the O5 council know what is going on here?!"

"The O5 Council doesn't give a fuck about what is happening here. We do our job perfectly, Class-D is terminated according to the graphic, and new methods of killing and wiping the memory are still being developed. They know that there are mentally abnormal workers here, that we are the reactivation of the death camps. They send us here people for controls, in case they change the staff, but well, it always ends the same way, the matter comes full circle. If you are in Class-D, and they did not wipe your memory or something did not tear you apart, pray that you would be neutralized in some sort of research site's storeroom but not here. All complaints magically disappear in the depths of the kingdom of bureaucracy. In cases amnestics can do wonders. In fact, the O5 council itself ordered the creation of this type of place. It is known that Class-D is terminated here. It was ordered to close the part of the facility responsible for neutralization so that the sites could deal with it. And after some time the Council stopped being interested in it. Except for 3 people who took matters into their own hands and are pulling the strings. They ordered to reopen old parts and build additional special chambers, more test laboratories and other things. We are now officially operating as a secret laboratory for the development of amnestics and only partially working on the development of termination methods. Neutralization alone continues to be carried out on a massive scale, but as I read recently in the files, with humane methods. So as you can see, they don't know what's going on here. If a weak employee makes a complaint, it lands in a shredder the next day. You will probably ask, what does the rest of the O5 Council say? Well, probably as a child you had some common secrets with your friends about which the rest of your mates couldn't find out? It works the same way. Interesting thins happen at the Foundation, right? "

"This is insane! And Ethics Committee?! They should close this place!"

"I said that closed a part. Termination is one of the indispensable elements of this organization. But those from the committee often fucked with it. I have always thought that this whole unnecessary committee was set up with no sense of existence. At least they don't pick on us now. We cover all leaks immediately. We can really a lot. We are practically an organization within an organization. You got pale again. Pizza will be good for you."

"It can't be that way! No and fucking not! I will personally make sure that this place ceases to exist!"

"Of course it can. And is. You'll do shit. You have my word. The Foundation has its dark sides, and Protected Area 63 is one of the darkest. It was like that. It is like that. It will be like that.
Welcome to Area 63.
Welcome to Hell.
Welcome, doctor. Or rather since several hours, D-696."

"What the…"

"Don't you consider it too much of a waste of time?"

"Why not? I've always been doing it."

"I was always wondering, why in the world."

"Simple. I like to tell newbies about what is going on here. Their reactions are always the same. They won't told anyone about it anymore, especially due to that I gave him a Class-G amnestic. I scared him a little this time. He was getting white like freshly washed pants and I didn't want to waste it."

"I saw you on the surveillance. He looked like a corpse when you pointed a gun at him."

"It's unloaded. Besides, it blocks, and they were supposed to give me a new one. You know, sometimes I don't believe that I'm the director of this place…"


"Because of running this shit. Telling scientists sent here to death about the Foundation's side that no one is talking about because no one knows, has a soothing effect on me. Just think. Think of rescuers with depression. Of gravediggers looking strangely at people. Of soldiers with neurosis. So seemingly banal professions are destructive to the psyche. What work at the Foundation does you have in the canteen. I'm not just talking about our facility. I'm saying overall. This organization is not good and has never been. You see what they do with the abnormalities in staff. Scientists are sent for treatment and retirement, and guards are sent to us. Then happens what happens."

"After all, we have control over this."

"Let's say that."

"And what about D-696?"

"Our doc? He won't remember anything, his knowledge will be on the same level as the rest of the Class-D arriving here. That's a shame, apparently he was a good scientist. He thought he was here for a control but actually a sentence's been hanging over him all the time. He didn't even know about degradation."

"Now he'll go with smoke like the others."

"He deserved it. Well. It's his fault."

"Don't you even want to know who he was before?"

"No. For what?"

"Out of curiosity?"

"To be honest? I don't give a shit. Let's get out of here, we have nothing to do here now."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License