The records say that A627 is not my original name. The records also say that I am a mortician. So why is it that I wind up killing so much more than taking care of our dear departed?
We're not even sure that the records of my former life are even mine. The only thing is that I am comfortable in quiet places, even in those where the dead rest. Especially in those, where the dead watch or the dead sleep.
There is a silence in these places that is permeating. Your heartbeat slows down, and you can almost hear their dreams. Were they the dreams they died with, or the dreams that they have now? I don't know what will become of me after I die, but I hope that whatever it is, it is as peaceful as I imagine it to be.
The muscles in my hands know how it is that I write this now. The silo went onto battery backup after a failiure of radioactive containment. I don't know exactly what that means, except that it is something beyond my ability to repair. The reactor shut itself down and is now cooling, far below us somewhere.
The memories of the biological and radioactive tests that were being conducted on my kip still break my heart. The fact that the facility itself had maybe a few hundred workers, but enough space in frozen morgues to fit a few thousand bothers me. I haven't been to the larger morgue in a very long time, and now that things are warming up, I don't want to be in either of them.
The memories of the experiments still disturb my sleep at night. I don't know how many times I've woken up and see a friend's face. Where the heck did these guys get the things that they have in the first place? My guess is that this facility is full of even more surprises.
It makes me almost glad that I won't be recording any other surprises until we somehow fix the reactor. Speaking of, battery power on the uninterrupted power supply is down to 1%. In a few minutes, everything will go dark. Before that happens, I'm going to save this ent
[Silo 17] A627
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