RG: [whistle] Wow! Processing is huuuuge this time around.

JV: ...those are its normal dimensions. Have you never watched a maintenance feed?

RG: Nope. Never got the perms for it. Late hire, remember? At the tail end of summer. My training was like, a week, then they let me loose in IT. Half my day is spent chasing down someone who has the passcode to where I need to be, heh.

JV: I apologize for that.

RG: Ah, it's fine. Gives me stuff to do. Between that and this little pet project, my days haven't been nearly as boring as I thought they'd be. I was worried; I didn't bring as many movies as I should've— my bad. Next time I'm home I'll be sure to burn a terabyte or two.

JV: Ask around. I'm sure people would be happy to share.

RG: You'd think! But nah. Most people here spend their free time getting blasted— which is fine, just not my thing. It's real impressive, though. Never knew someone with a hangover could oversee all that before coming here.

RG: You didn't hear it from me, Jamie. I'm not a snitch.

RG: Just staring at the terminal screen is annoying. Slow typers make me antsy. Wish we could see what she's actually looking at and not whatever this is.

JV: It's a matter of resources, unfortunately.

RG: I know, man. But why didn't we hook up to one of the drones that are actually doing shit? Like yeah, we have instructions for them to follow and in theory, we know what the outcome of those will be, but like... I want to actually see it in motion, you know? Not have to rely on firsthand reports now, and then stats in a week. It'd make my job easier.

JV: We're thinking in the long-term. I know it's inconvenient now, but just try to bear with it.

RG: I always do.

JV: I do.

RG: It... might be a good idea to let him know about... Look at the feedback, it's not... that isn't right.

[ "Robbie? You okay?" from Nuzaire. ]

JV: Intentional and sustained overclocking of hardware, causing widespread systemic failure, resulting in accelerated and uncontrolled growth.

RG: Right, but, that's not a fancy piece of technology we're talking about anymore, that's...

[ A wet cough from Miller. Then, "Yeah, fuck. Throats tight, that's all. Wonder if I'm allergic to the bullshit, hah." ]

JV: ...

RG: Jamie? Come on man, you're kinda freaking me out. We have vitals on everyone for a reason, yeah? Let's not let them go to waste.

[ Miller doubles over and groans. "Fuck," he says. "This mask is too tight." He bears his weight against the wall; his armor scrapes against the metal like a fork against china. ]

RG: Yeah, shit, that's what I was afraid of. His brain's gonna boil in his skull at this rate— seriously, we need to get those doors open. Miller isn't going to be Miller for much longer if we—

JV: Let it happen.

RG: What?

[ Torres says, "Sit down if you need to. We shouldn't be much longer." Miller only exhales a pained and shaky 'uh-huh'. ]

JV: ...

RG: Jamie. Jamison. Dude—

RG: What?

JV: Titles, Guen. We have them for a reason.

[ Abruptly and without warning, the vitals of Robert Miller flatline. ]

RG: Fuck, whatever! Doctor, you need to contact someone down there and tell them all to leave! We can't just 'let it happen'!

[ His body drops. ]