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(Written in code, on scraps of paper napkin, in ink concocted of blood, spit, and grime)
The little man came to feed me today. At least this one hasn't tried to rape me. His name is - SOC-, which he says is short for Stream Of Consciousness.
He actually takes the time to talk to me, even though it's forbidden. I've gathered enough to know that there's not much hope for Owen(010) and me. But as Philm Phan has taught us, "If you're still alive, that's half the battle. And don't slouch. That look is unattractive on you, Dear. Keep your gun clean."
-SOC- has been very easy to manipulate, as he is a pathetic dwarf with no social life. I think that he hasn't talked to a woman not related to him for years. I only wish that there was some use that I could put his information to. He thinks that they'll get Wulf and Zero soon.
I look across and see Owen still curled up in a fetal ball, still dressed in the clothing damaged by the fight. His external cyberware glitters in the dim light. He won't eat.
I don't think that he has long to live.
I probably won't outlive him by much.
(TBC)
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