The Valerie Project

May 8th.2059

I've figured out what I'm going to do with her. I'm going to resurrect her. Yes, you'll say it's impossible, but I'll at least try. But an unexpected problem has arisen – it seems I've overheated Valerie, and she's starting to stink. The neighbors are unlikely to ignore such a smell, and why would I want trouble? I don't need the police showing up and arresting me for what I'm doing here. Now, on the contrary, I'm trying to freeze her again to a more adequate temperature. I've only just started, and I'm already fed up with this. Ughh..

June 2th.2059

Well… looks like I seriously overestimated my own damn endurance. I’ve lost track of how many days it’s been since I last slept. I’ve been hovering over Valerie 24/7, trying to flush the formalin out of her system. I can’t just pump her full of liters of fluid—she’d blow up like a balloon before I ever got the toxins out. One wrong move and the whole thing goes down the drain. But hell if I’m giving up now. I challenged nature to a duel, so I guess I’m seeing this through to the bitter end. It’s 4 AM. I’m sitting in the kitchen, scouring the web for a lethal-but-not-quite dose of hormones, synthetic blood, and a pacemaker—basically anything that’ll give Valerie’s brain a decent jolt without frying it to a crisp. Oh, and I’m also trying not to drown face-first in my coffee mug. And… I don’t know if you’d call it a breakthrough, but I finally managed to get her into a chair. Before this, she was just a stiff board, and I couldn’t get so much as a finger to bend. I’ll wrap this up, call my brother to help me haul everything to my place in Sydney—it’s been sitting empty for months anyway—and then I’m finally crashing. Maybe swimming in the ocean is what she needs to get that muscle plasticity back. Yeah, Sydney it is. Screw everything else, I’m done—hitting the hay.