[ How long was it this time? Days? Weeks? Only an hour? Time isn't something I can keep track of. I can only keep track of the heartbeat in my ear. My footsteps. The way the room tilts and wanes while vertigo sends me spiraling- ]

What? [ Maybe texting actually was easier. He can make sense with words. ] End of the hallway... [ PAUSE. A frustrated huff ] How the hell does the camera work on this thing now? It's somewhere in Archives. Records B by the janitor's closet and the corpse.