"I—pause—I can't lock it away. I can’t... inhales shakily I thought I could, but I can't. No, no, no, this is—this is too important. The Core… it has to be accessible. For them. For someone. If I lock it away, if I hide it in the safe, no one will find it. And we can't afford that. We can't.
It’s… it’s too dangerous to be left alone in that wall, in the dark. The people who can help us—they’ll need to get to it. They have to. If I just... pauses, shuddering ...if I just leave it, maybe someone will come. Maybe someone will know what to do. Someone will be able to fix this. They’ll know what to do with the virus, with the strain. The answers are in it—voice cracks—they have to be. If someone... someone can find it before it's too late.
quietly muttering "I just... I need to be sure."
She stops for a moment, the sound of paper rustling, the faint rattle of a drawer opening. Her breathing becomes heavier, less controlled.
"Safe, safe, safe, safe—it’s all locked up... but... but that’s not right. It’s not right. I need it... it needs to be close. Close enough for someone to find, but… but not too close, I can’t... No, I can’t. They’ll come, they’ll come, I know they will. They have to.
I’m putting it in the desk drawer. Yes. The desk drawer... it's right here. Right under my hand. pause It’s secure enough. voice shakes No one else will look here. They’ll think it’s too obvious. No one will think to look in the drawer. No, no, no... they'll never think to look here.
She breathes erratically, as if struggling to center herself.
"And if they don't… if they don’t come, then… then maybe I'll just—long pause—maybe I'll just have to... I'll have to put myself in containment. Yes. Yes, that’s it. I can’t—pauses again, breathing deeper—I can’t let myself spread it, not this. Not the strain. I’ll go in containment, I’ll lock myself in. I’ll do it. I’ll... I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it from spreading. From... infecting anyone else.
Her voice begins to tremble uncontrollably, and she whispers softly, as though speaking to herself.
"I can feel it now. It’s inside me. And... and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep it contained. I don’t know how long before... before it breaks through. pause But the Core… I won’t let it be lost. I won’t. I can’t."
The sound of the desk drawer slams shut, and a long, drawn-out sigh follows.
"If anyone finds this... if anyone is still out there... I’ve left it here, in the drawer. The answers are here. Please... please... she breaks off into a quiet sob Please find it before it’s too late."
The recording ends abruptly, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as if someone is standing up quickly.
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