039 || dictated;

[workaphilic]

[It's very, very late when the journal opens. Or very early, depending on your perspective. But there's none of the grate to his voice that usually accompanies his insomnia; instead he sounds lively, nearly amicable.]

Rise and shine, residents. Don't complain, if you're awake now you either were before I started or you're stupid enough to leave your journal open when you sleep.

[Gladstone whines in the background.]

Shut up, you don't get to complain either, after all you've put me through.

[In the background: noise of cabinets, and food (or something, it can be hard to tell with him) tumbling into a bowl.]

Here is my question, Paradisa:

How much worse could it get?

[A pause, and something occurs to him. He continues, now with his mouth full.]

I'm not being rhetorical. It's not the preface to an uplifting speech, either. Really think, and really answer. It's important.

Comments

[hatesgoodbyes]

That question never has a good answer. It can always get worse, every damn time.

[workaphilic]

Try anyway.

[hatesgoodbyes]

How much worse could it get? Infinitely. This place could cease to exist with us all in it, or this place could turn into hell itself. We could be forced to watch people we care about die a million times over or be forced to do it ourselves. The only this this placed hasn't proved itself capable of yet is giving us any kind of explanation of why we are here and what it's intentions are beyond keeping us.

You want to know how much worse this place can get? Whatever is the worst thing you can think of, is like dividing by half.

[workaphilic]

[The sentiment of that speech seems to go over his head completely. That, or he ignores it. It, again, can be hard to tell with him sometimes.]

'Hell itself' is loosely defined enough to be useless. Some might say Paradisa is hell already. What would it have to do to be your hell?

[hatesgoodbyes]

Not even going to tempt Castle Wonderfuck by saying it.

[workaphilic]

Look at that, so many of you so nervous. You honestly believe Paradisa needs you to say it out loud to know what it is?

[It comes out a little manic, almost cheerfully aggressive.]