Project Umbrella Translation
A RESEARCHER'S SUICIDE NOTE
A letter is sandwiched
To my dear Alma
June 3.1998
I'll be both pleased and saddened that you receive this letter. Thanks to that bastard in sunglasses, I couldn't even talk with you by telephone. Alma, please stay calm as you read this letter.
I think I've already told you before that I was scouted by a pharmaceutical company's laboratory and relocated there. To tell you the truth, last month there was an accident in the lab and a virus being studied began to leak. All my colleagues who were infected with the virus are now dead.
...Well, maybe not dead exactly.
They can still walk around, and in fact, some are beating on the door of my room right now. But there's no light of intellect in their eyes anymore.
That cursed virus forever erases from a person's brain everything that makes us human, love, joy, fear, humor.
And even the days I spent with you, Alma.
That's right. I'm infected.
I've done everything I could, but it's barely enough to delay the progression of symptoms for a few days. Above all, I can't bear the thought of losing you within me day by day.
So as it stands, I've chosen to die peacefully rather than become the living dead.
In an hour's time, I'll drift into a never-ending sleep.
I dearly hope you will understand my decision...
Goodbye
I love you always
Martin Kluckhohn
A letter is sandwiched
To my dear Alma
June 3.1998
I'll be both pleased and saddened that you receive this letter. Thanks to that bastard in sunglasses, I couldn't even talk with you by telephone. Alma, please stay calm as you read this letter.
I think I've already told you before that I was scouted by a pharmaceutical company's laboratory and relocated there. To tell you the truth, last month there was an accident in the lab and a virus being studied began to leak. All my colleagues who were infected with the virus are now dead.
...Well, maybe not dead exactly.
They can still walk around, and in fact, some are beating on the door of my room right now. But there's no light of intellect in their eyes anymore.
That cursed virus forever erases from a person's brain everything that makes us human, love, joy, fear, humor.
And even the days I spent with you, Alma.
That's right. I'm infected.
I've done everything I could, but it's barely enough to delay the progression of symptoms for a few days. Above all, I can't bear the thought of losing you within me day by day.
So as it stands, I've chosen to die peacefully rather than become the living dead.
In an hour's time, I'll drift into a never-ending sleep.
I dearly hope you will understand my decision...
Goodbye
I love you always
Martin Kluckhohn
Official Japanese Transcript
ある研究員の遺書
手紙がはさまれている
僕の愛しいアルマへ June 3.1998
この手紙が届いたという事は、僕にとって喜ばしい事であり、そして悲しむべき事でもある。あのサングラス野郎のせいで、君と電話で話す事すら出来なかったんだ。アルマ、どうか落ち着いて、この手紙を読んでほしい。
僕がある製薬会社の研究所にスカウトされ、そこに移った事は前に話したと思う。実は先月、その研究所で事故が起って、研究中のウィルスが漏れ出してしまったんだ。ウィルスに感染した僕の同僚は、みんな死んでしまった。
･･･いや正確には、死んでいないかもしれない。
何故なら彼らは、今も歩き回る事が出来るし、現に何人かが今、僕の部屋のドアを叩いている。でも、彼らの瞳に、もはや知性の光はない。
あの呪われたウィルスは、人間の脳から人間らしさの全て、愛も喜びも恐れもジョークも永久に消し去ってしまうんだ。
そしてアルマ、君と過ごした日々さえ。
そうなんだ。僕は感染している。
あらゆる手を尽くしてみたが、症状の進行を数日遅らせるのがやっとだった。君が僕の中で日に日に失われていくのが、僕には何より耐えられない。
だから、僕は、このまま生ける屍になるよりも安らかな死を選んだ。
一時間後には、僕は二度と覚める事のない眠りについていることだろう。
君がこの僕の決断を解ってくれることを切に願う･･･。
さようなら
君を永遠に愛する マーチン·クラックホーン
手紙がはさまれている
僕の愛しいアルマへ June 3.1998
この手紙が届いたという事は、僕にとって喜ばしい事であり、そして悲しむべき事でもある。あのサングラス野郎のせいで、君と電話で話す事すら出来なかったんだ。アルマ、どうか落ち着いて、この手紙を読んでほしい。
僕がある製薬会社の研究所にスカウトされ、そこに移った事は前に話したと思う。実は先月、その研究所で事故が起って、研究中のウィルスが漏れ出してしまったんだ。ウィルスに感染した僕の同僚は、みんな死んでしまった。
･･･いや正確には、死んでいないかもしれない。
何故なら彼らは、今も歩き回る事が出来るし、現に何人かが今、僕の部屋のドアを叩いている。でも、彼らの瞳に、もはや知性の光はない。
あの呪われたウィルスは、人間の脳から人間らしさの全て、愛も喜びも恐れもジョークも永久に消し去ってしまうんだ。
そしてアルマ、君と過ごした日々さえ。
そうなんだ。僕は感染している。
あらゆる手を尽くしてみたが、症状の進行を数日遅らせるのがやっとだった。君が僕の中で日に日に失われていくのが、僕には何より耐えられない。
だから、僕は、このまま生ける屍になるよりも安らかな死を選んだ。
一時間後には、僕は二度と覚める事のない眠りについていることだろう。
君がこの僕の決断を解ってくれることを切に願う･･･。
さようなら
君を永遠に愛する マーチン·クラックホーン
Official English Transcript
"Due to errors or changes in localization, the following may contain inconsistencies with the official Japanese text."
RESEARCHER'S WILL
June 3, 1998
My dearest Alma,
Let me first apologize for not being able to call you. A man wearing sunglasses didn't permit any phone calls. Sorry Alma.
I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and already I fail. I hope this letter finds you well, and that you'll forgive the tangents of my pen; this isn't easy for me.
Even as I write, I can feel the simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion--but I have ;to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Alma, please believe that what I'm telling you is the truth. The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept these things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the
virus we were studying leaked.
All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. This virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life. Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my door like mindless, hungry animals.
Alma, I have tried to survive only to see you again. But my efforts only delayed the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow - except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them.
My love for you.
In an hour I'll have entered my eternal sleep where there is peace. Please understand. Please know that I'm sorry.
Martin Crackhorn
RESEARCHER'S WILL
June 3, 1998
My dearest Alma,
Let me first apologize for not being able to call you. A man wearing sunglasses didn't permit any phone calls. Sorry Alma.
I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and already I fail. I hope this letter finds you well, and that you'll forgive the tangents of my pen; this isn't easy for me.
Even as I write, I can feel the simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion--but I have ;to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Alma, please believe that what I'm telling you is the truth. The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept these things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the
virus we were studying leaked.
All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. This virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life. Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my door like mindless, hungry animals.
Alma, I have tried to survive only to see you again. But my efforts only delayed the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow - except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them.
My love for you.
In an hour I'll have entered my eternal sleep where there is peace. Please understand. Please know that I'm sorry.
Martin Crackhorn