the story in which Alex Seattle Geer is right for hating enclosed spaces,

[doubletap]

and Neil Park is blamed for his knowledge of vaults.

---

Terminal Entries:

1st Floor, Vault Entry-Room Computer:
- Data Entry 1: Year 20XX, Month XX; There's no escape.
- Holotape Entry 1: Y#4@ SDhig^8705 H98 [data corrupted]; This is hell and I want out of it.

1st Floor, Cafeteria Luncheon:
- Holotape Entry 2: Private Recording; I've had better?

1st Floor, Cafeteria Supply Room:
- Inventory List: Inventory List; A list of food....
- Data Entry 2: Shift Notes; Maybe I should tear the walls down.

1st Floor, Broken Cave:
- Data Entry 3: Preparations; Everything's fine.
- Data Entry 4: Near the End; I'll tell you the truth, but I won't give up my soul.
- Data Entry 5: Finally, the End is at Hand.; This is far enough.

1st Floor, Office:
- Data Entry 6: Vault-Wide Public Service Announcement; Get back to work everyone.
- Data Entry 7: Locked Administrative Reply; You're reaching for straws.

1st Floor, Administrative Secretary's Office:
- Data Entry 8: Drama Hoes; It is sort of funny that people aren't able to lie, though.
- Holotape Entry 3: Bill Self-Log; Byron's access still works everywhere.

Comments

[doubletap]

[ This isn't important.

He knows that, and normally he wouldn't have even pretended to care. But now, as he picks the lock to the next room, he can't stop thinking of it.

Is this what truth really is? Something that you can't put aside?

He speaks quietly, nothing like a command; nothing of his normal tones. ]

Tell me.

[goodfight]

[It isn't a thing to say. It isn't, to be honest, particularly important. It is, however, where the Courier's attention currently lies.

Neil watches the other man work on the lock, a hard line etched across his lips.

Those two words, however easily ignored previously, cannot be set aside now.]

...You know I kind of want you to hate me.

[doubletap]

Is it hard to be with me?

[ The lock clicks, and the question is an honest wonder. ]

[goodfight]

[The question serves to irritate, but Neil does not know the emotion's source.

His finger hovers near the shotgun trigger, preparing for whatever may be lurking beyond the door.]

It's hard not being alone.