sirenspull | [ voice ]

[The voice being recorded is both hushed (out of respect for the speaker's present environment) and weak (for reasons yet to be explained).]

Diane, it's... 6:36 pm on May 17, 2012. By my calculation, that means I've been asleep for... two hundred and seventy-nine months. Twenty-three years have passed since my last recording, Diane, and I have to say: I look pretty great for my age.

The last time I remember speaking to you, it was from the floor of my room at the Great Northern Hotel and I had just been shot. I don't remember a whole lot else, but the doctors tell me I've lost quite a bit of blood so that's to be expected. I feel both frustrated and grateful. Grateful to be alive, and frustrated because the investigation is facing yet another setback.

"Setback" may be an understatement. Diane, you are not going to believe this. As I just told you, it's been twenty-three years. That's twenty-three years in the blink of an eye. They tell me I've traveled through time, and that's apparently a common occurrence around here. Here being the city of Siren's Port, Canada - that's an island off the coast to the west of Vancouver, Diane. Have you ever heard of a place like that? I sure haven't.

The frustrating part is that my ticket was one-way. Preferable, yes, to the other one-way ticket I was facing - but gosh I really felt it. I was on the verge of something. Will I ever know who killed Laura Palmer?

[There's a pause and murmuring in the background, along with the squeaking of a cart being rolled into the room.]

- Ah, more on that later, Diane. Nurse Irene is here.

[Click.]