31 May 2024
Friday. Protocol fourteen: if a site is compromised, relocate the subject. Nobody has ever written down how you relocate a subject who does not wish to be relocated. I have now. It is eleven pages long and mostly apologies.
The new lab is in Northbridge, on Lake Street, a short walk from the train station. Same steel, same vials, same chamber, same Gerald. Gerald sulked in the van. I sulked in the front.
The neighbours are interesting. Along the corridor there is a haunted house, a count with old-fashioned ideas about visitors and a kitchen I have been advised not to enter. I took them a casserole. Nobody ate it. I respect that.
The old lab under the city stays open a few more weeks while we finish the move, which means that, briefly, there are two of the last laboratory on Earth. Accounts has questions. I have sent Accounts a biscuit.
First team through the Northbridge airlock this afternoon. They asked the staff whether Gerald bites. I wrote back, on a sticky note, that he has never had the opportunity and that I mean to keep it that way.
— Dr Morrow, Storeroom B
