04:07 A.M

At 2:39 this morning, with the passing of Candidate 271, or Maggie as I now know her as , I've become the last survivor of trial, AGTD1000. It took ninety-two minutes from the onset of the rash to the convulsions, with the end stage markedly faster than I've witnessed before, just seven minutes; bleeding was profuse. I've followed the agreed protocol and her body and belongings are now in the incinerator. The sleeping quarters are currently being automatically steam cleaned.  And I am here, alone, writing this damn diary.

06:10 A.M

The silence is awful. Maggie wasn't a loud person by any means, preferring to spend her time reading or drawing, but her absence shouts loudly now.  I've just done my required daily workout to distract myself, but to be honest, I didn't try very hard. There's something very unsettling about holding the plank position while the corpse of your last friend burns to ash, just a few metres away.

07:30 A.M

Eggs again! Couldn't you have given me something different for what might be my final breakfast? Some croissants, a few rashers of crispy bacon or maybe a waffle or two. I swear if I live to see another day, I will never eat another egg for as long as I live. I remember Candidate nine hundred and something, joking that if the drug didn't kill us, the egg-related constipation would.

09:00 A.M

The system tells me my biometrics are looking good, but then so were Maggie's at this time yesterday morning. My heart rate and blood pressure are optimal, my urine is clear and body temperature is around 36.7C. My doctor back home would even be impressed, my cholesterol is down further in spite of the eggs. In fact, aside from a painful in-growing toe nail, I feel... healthy.

12:18 P.M

The thing about knowing that you're likely to die very soon, is that you can't help but think about the things you've never got round to doing. I never visited Europe, never bungee-jumped, never had sex in the back of my car and never got round to reading The Stand by Stephen King even though it's sat on my bookshelf for years. So, in light of the fact that I probably now won't get the chance to do any of these or have time to read that tomb of a book, I downloaded the 1990's TV mini-series instead; all six hours of it. Three hours in and I am enjoying it, although the deadly pandemic from a viral agent cuts a little too close to the bone. One question though, why on earth did they cast Rob Lowe as the deaf mute?

1:30 P.M

Baked Beans! Are you fricking kidding me?

2:02 P.M

I'm scared. It's finally dawned on me that I might die tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I have thought about it, at times thinking of little else, but not once did I seriously consider it. Not when I filled in the application form for the trial or when I entered the facility, and even as I watched them die, day after day, it still didn't hit me. I remember the lecture they gave us on possible adverse side effects all those months ago. All of us gathered in the tiered seating of the oval shaped theatre. Doctor Mike, wearing his pristine white coat, speaking of immuno-suppression, weight loss, blah, blah, blah. To be honest I switched off as the lecture became more like the disclaimer bit at the end of a pain relief advert. But we... they, never expected this. I don't think.

I remember the day Candidate 43 died, like it was yesterday. The poor sod had only been in the facility for sixteen hours when he began to cough. Sixteen hours! It was so quick I never even found out his name. Our immediate response was really rather muted considering, probably because we were too stunned and were busily trying to convince ourselves that his death was purely co-incidental. When 293 died the next day we realised it was no coincidence, and the panic and the anger set in. But as we adjusted to our surroundings, where our numbers dwindled daily, the loss and the fear became normalcy. Did you know (and I'm pretty sure you do) that out of the nine-hundred and ninety nine people who died here, only three of them were as a result of suicide? Just three! Trust me, I've considered it alright, but ever the optimist, I've kept thinking, what if I am the one? What if I am the only one who managed to build up an immunity or, maybe my concentration level was so low as to render it harmless? Or maybe I got the placebo, could I be that lucky 0.1%? I guess I'll soon find out.

4:13 P.M

I've been thinking a lot about the money. Maggie had big designs for hers. She was going to study Fine Arts at the Royal College of Art. She was going to pay her tuition and a deposit on a small studio once she'd graduated. My plans aren't...weren't anywhere near as noble. After a thousand days locked away from the world, I was going to book myself an open ticket to somewhere hot. Damn, you made it sound so easy. Just three years, you said. Three years for half a million dollars. I could have gone somewhere really nice for that kind of money.

4:30 P.M

I've realised it's meant to be my birthday in two days. I came in here at twenty-seven and here I am just a couple of days away from my thirtieth. Crikey, I'm almost officially grown up. In my teens, people in their twenties seemed so old, but now I realise that your twenties are just an extension of your teens, but with a bit of money in your pocket. Thirty is when adult hood really begins. The judge that sent me down said that if I carried on with my way of life I wouldn't make it to thirty. Looks like that son of a bitch was probably right.

7:35 P.M

Thank you for the pizza. I actually wept when I opened the chute and saw it. Okay, so it had anchovies on it, but the thought was there. I finished watching The Stand while eating. There's rats in the corn, don't you know?

If you're still in a generous mood, some ice-cream would be lovely right now.

7:51 P.M

I just sneezed.

8:10 P.M

False alarm. It was the pepper on the pizza. Nose has been sneeze free for ten minutes

11:15 PM

I have written a letter for my parents. Please see that they are sent to them. I pray they never learn of what had happened here. I hope they will console themselves in the knowledge I spent the last three years serving our proud country. My dad always wanted me to join the army, at least now he'll think I did. I hope the money, brings them some comfort too.

I am going to turn in now. I've taken a sleeping pill for I know without it, I'll be awake all night.

Oh, one last thing.  Although this trial hasn't turned out as anyone expected, it is my dearest hope that our sacrifice was worth it and that countless lives will be saved by the knowledge this trial has given you.  I really do.

Night, night.