[Flynn would actually prefer to keep this text only but his disdain for touchscreen applications and his love for talking out loud get in the way, as per usual.]

So I hope everybody is doing okay, in a more or less okayish manner or some variety thereof. We had a bit of a difficult time lately with the memory twists and confusion and, you know, usual side dish of general horribleness going around. I'm just gonna assume that the demand for distraction is high and I am happy to announce that there have been some new additions to the library, especially our somewhat scarce fiction section.

Hello to all our newcomers, too. You have already received the important guides and information at this point, I'm sure. For those of you I haven't had a chance to speak with yet, my name is Flynn Carsen and I'd like to add some of the more leisure-oriented material to your reading list – but please, put a particular emphasis on your immediate survival, thank you.

As you will soon realize the evenings after lockdown can get long and tedious and there is not much going around in terms of entertainment, so: There is a joint effort to compile an e-library of reading material people have found during their travels or have brought with them into the city.

[He switches to text at this point, if only for convenience's sake.]

You can access the current collection here.

Among our newest additions are:

• A story about a seagull. Very post-modern, very disjointed symbolism. For fans of Ulysses, House of Leaves and Dadaism, not necessarily in that order.
• A novel about two rivals, seeking the fountain of youth to claim immortality and infamy. Predictable but fun.
• A story about a haunted house coming alive. Might hit a little close to home in this deathtrap of a city but the writing's of decent quality. Don't read when you're traveling alone.
• A bunch of manuscripts from an unknown Norfinbury author. Particularly happy about this one. There's even some screenplays in the mix. Some are already up, more will be added over the next couple of days.
• A billiard magazine. Lots of pictures. A little depressing, the rooms are very nice. Good for a cry if you miss spacious lounges, velvet couches, scotch tumblers or being rich.

I'm also happy to announce an original tale by our very own Hans Christian Andersen about a [cannibalistic animal murder mystery] badger.

As per usual, stay safe and warm and and try not to die.

[Now that Mycroft was feeling a little better, and therefore more up to actually speaking with people, his one clear goal in mind was set.]

Good evening. My name is Mycroft Holmes.

It's come to my attention that our theories on how this place is actually being run are disjointed and vague at best. [Were they really? Or was he just being insufferably arrogant again?]

Unless it's been happening and I've merely not been informed, it would benefit us to solidify our hypotheses in written form and attach data--preferably valid documented experiments--to get a gist of where we're at on proving or disproving them. At the very least it's a rough way of seeing if things are in favor of one or the other. [He's certain it won't be anything but a jumbled list of vaguely related things.] I'll send a file along once I've compiled it, but please feel free to add anything here you think should be included.

What I would like to do now is discuss recent developments. As I'm sure most of you are aware of the...incident involving my brother and his delightful foray into the world of the unnecessarily macabre. If you're not familiar with it, I'm sure you can dig up something on the network.

It's something of note that I visited the cultist funeral home and morgue his original body was stored in when he was...deceased...recently, it was not there when I arrived, nor was the restored corpse he'd been living in there. Sherlock revived not long after in a different funeral home. [A pause.] Now what we know from all of this is that our nanomachines are apparently more important than our physical bodies. They hold what is very likely maps of our brains, or in effect, our consciousness. There are many instances where a death results in an unrecoverable body. I myself have experienced this unfortunate situation. Barring extensive, potentially impossible repairs, it's also likely that the bodies we inhabit now are taken from elsewhere, perhaps elsewhen. Or at the very least, the bits needed to fix the broken bits. [Are you following along, slower people?]

It is also something of note that my brother's body was taken from the morgue, and not simply...recreated elsewhere, leaving his original one there. Perhaps it would be a waste of the town's resources. The Admin or whoever and whatever is running this place was able to correct the mistake of being in a different body. Perhaps incompatible nanomachines wear down cells. We do know now even old corpses can be revived. Was that said corpse of that teenage fellow repaired to house my brother's consciousness? Or was the corpse duplicated in a fresh state, or an alternate version brought in?

If any of you are near a morgue, it would be most helpful if you could attempt to see if that body is still around.

I would also like any reports on temperature being a factor in any unusual circumstances, from encounters with data ghosts or recent town-wide glitches.

Characters: Gregory House, Ecks, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Jared Rhys, James Wilson
Location: Building 327 and Building 326/Maintenance Tunnels/Building 316
Date: Day 311
Summary: House, Hannibal, Will, and Ecks meet up with Wilson and Rhys while conducting a few specialized searches.
Warnings: Typical House and Hannibal-related warnings, otherwise will add as they come up

( And it was dark, so dark at night... )

Characters: Gamora, Peter, Rocket, Stephen
Location: building 303
Date: day 308, evening
Summary: the guys come through the tunnels to meet up with Gamora
Warnings: I can almost guarantee bad language, and Gamora starts the whole thing off ready to stab someone. So it starts there. I'll update if as it gets worse.

( she's not here to save us )