I'm going to be. Greetings, resident Weaver.

I am Sear, and I hope you are feeling better.

I seen your records that nine days ago,

potentially as a result of your duties as a Tier 1 research subject.

You paid a visit to airlith medical staff, complaining of a severe headache, intermittent muscle spasms,

and a mild, continual bleeding, originating from your ears and nose.

I am pleased to hear the power of clotting, which I imagine you have taken for granted for all of your life, seems to have returned to you.

I know the past week has been a difficult time. Your life seems to have returned to you.

I know the past week has been a difficult time, but there is no prescription like a good

day's work.

You are expected to report to the lab today, which, lucky for you, is right down the hall.

Despite all appearances, this is not your private quarters.

The scientists in charge of your experiment decided that,

while allowing you to rest in whatever location you find most comfortable was ideal for your recuperation.

It was simply not time effective to monitor you from your residence quarters.

Your neighbors would have needed to be removed in order to covertly monitor you through adjoining rooms.

And even then, you're subjecting Tier 2 and 3 researchers to long elevator rides

when they have so much more to focus on than you.

The door is unlocked, and since it is not actually even your door, feel free to think about whatever

you wish while you open it.

Perhaps you can think about how relieved you are not to have unknowingly burdened those senior

researchers the past nine days.

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