My name is Boyd Cooper. I am not the Milkman. I don't know where he is, so don't ask me. I am just the guard. I've been fully trained.
But you know that, don't you? You have to know that. Everyone knows that. They watch me, all the time. They must be keeping records. They have to be.
I don't know who "they" are, exactly – not yet. But I'm searching. There have to be clues, somewhere.
I was a guard in my last job, too. Just a watchman. I liked that job, I was good at it. But then – I don't know how it happened. They must have thought that I knew too much. That's what happened. Right? They must have thought that I knew something I wasn't supposed to.
They fired me. And I got drunk. But...no. No. I wouldn't do something like that.
I must have been drugged. That's it. They drugged me, and they programmed me into doing it for them. Maybe there was evidence in the building, evidence they needed to get rid of. They hired me for the sole purpose of being their scapegoat. They wanted me to be the one to destroy the evidence, so that they could stay in the clear. That's it. That must be it.
Hernado's was burned down using Molotov cocktails made in milk bottles. That was my first clue – my first clue that the dairy industry must have been part of it. They had to have been. Why else would there have been milk bottles used? Out of everything that could have been made into weapons, why would they use milk bottles?
That's when I realized that it must have something to do with the dairy industry. The Milkman – the leader, the head, the one in charge – is out there. Somewhere. He's the reason why we can't have ordinary lives, why we can't just be happy.
Just look at Gloria. She was so young, so talented – and she's an amazing singer. Just incredible. Have you ever heard of her? She's kinda famous – kinda well known. Now, she's locked up in an asylum. How does a sweet young kid like her end up in a place like this? She didn't deserve to come here. She didn't deserve what happened to her. Good people shouldn't end up like this.
That's why there has to be something else, something that we're missing. Someone must have wanted her to end up in here. Maybe it was the same situation with her that I'm in. They must have thought she had too much power, or knew too much about what they did. Never mind if she did or not, that's what they believed. They conspired to get her locked up in here, to sequester her away from society. If she did know too much about them, no one would listen to a lunatic. That's why they put me in here. They know I'm onto them, and now they can ensure that no one believes me, if I'm supposed to be crazy. That's it.
And Fred. Look at Fred. Nice guy, very friendly, liked his work. He was a good guy. Everyone wanted to be his buddy. Now he's plagued by these voices, speaking to him all the time. Now he can't even stand up straight. Now he thinks he's Napoleon. To someone who looks at him, he must look like some kind of crazy person.
And Edgar! Edgar is this amazing artist, but he just can't calm down. He can't be happy. He won't let himself admit that it was Lampita's fault, and that he did nothing wrong. Why would an intelligent, talented man be unable to see this? Why can't he admit it?
There has to be something bigger than us - something bigger than any of us. How else do you explain what happened to us? We were all good people – good, nice, people. We paid taxes, we worked hard, we didn't do anything wrong. We did nothing wrong, nothing at all. We didn't deserve to end up in here.
Why else was I unable to hold any job, no matter how hard I worked? Why else is Gloria so sad and afraid all the time? Why else can't Fred silence the voices in his head? Why else can't Edgar just admit that Lampita was the one who wronged him, and it was never his fault in any way?
There's something out there that's responsible for what happened. There has to be a reason. I don't want to live in a world where good, ordinary people that never did any wrong in their lives can end up as raving loons in an asylum. We're being punished, all of us, for crimes we never committed.
There has to be something beyond any of us that's pulling the strings, that's placed the pieces in the game. Something that's been toying with all of us for reasons beyond our control.
Something's out there. And I'm going to find it. No matter what.
I know I'm right. Why am I the only one who can see this?
You believe me, don't you?