The title of this article is conjectural. The subject has no canonical name.

The personal log of Talen Ayers is a log maintained by the scientist of the same name. He continued writing in it even after his conscription into Project Blackstone.


Ludwig van Beethoven said, "Tones sound, and roar and storm about me until I have set them down in notes." It is wisdom I have carried throughout my career.

Beethoven was a brilliant composer who has been largely forgotten by the vagabond Earthlings who have taken root here in the Koprulu sector. But I open this log with his words in the vain hope that my work here may someday match, in scientific form, the stirring musical legacy that great soul left for humanity.

No, modesty has never been one of my strong suits. Modesty didn't pull me out of the drafty one-room farmer's shack I was born in. Modesty didn't win me top honors at Tarsonis U and a double PhD at Korhal Academy, nor did it help my seminal work become the first treatise on xenobiology to be made an Augustgrad Times bestseller. Modesty has its place: comfortably stuffed in the throats of those not ambitious enough to take a big, toothy bite out of the universe.

Sadly, it was this selfsame lack of modesty that brought me here. How could the ever-seeing eyes of the Dominion ignore the undeniable efforts of my mind? A mind Michael Liberty called "an interplanetary treasure" in his UNN exposé. How could the Dominion Armed Military Nonsense resist putting my invaluable neurons to work for them?

There I was, publishing valuable insights for the poor masses to consume... and there I was, not helping the D.A.M.N. fools turn knowledge into weapons. Granted, my work wasn't being shared entirely out of benevolence; the poor masses were making me rich. According to Ken, my agent, sales of Ayers on Aliens had already hit 10 million.

That was only one week before I was aggressively recruited from my bedroom. By a ghost. Yes, I know it sounds like a Dickens novel. But, unlike Scrooge's nocturnal abductor, my ghost was armed with a knife, a rifle, and the ability to telekinetically make me lose control of my bladder. They can do that, right?

Regardless, here I am. The Blackstone facility is cramped, stuffy, and it has an appalling lack of windows. The project head is so arrogant that I am surprised they were able to fit his enormous cranium into this tiny little asteroid. To make matters worse, I seem to have made a poor impression on good Dr. Branamoor, and he is now committed to making my time here even more unbearable. Surprisingly, I find it difficult to dwell on my current state of discomfort, due to the incredible resources we have at our disposal. I have worked in some of the most prestigious laboratories in the Koprulu sector and have never seen tools with the power and precision at my fingertips. Nor have I seen such an abundance of rare and unique samples of alien tissue. Rumor has it that Branamoor has connections in the black market, and I don't care to know any more than that. This assignment has given me access to complete specimens of zerg larvae, and I have witnessed things that have sent my imagination soaring. Wonderful things. Possibilities for healing the human race beyond anything dreamt of in our wildest fiction.


Blizzard Entertainment. Project Blackstone, accessed on 2013-03-13