( colligo ¬ get collected ) → network.

Okay folks, listen up. Anybody needing a place to hold up and can't make it back to the apartments, come to the Roadhouse. [address] But if you do decide to haul your butt in here, know you'll be pulling your own weight. I don't care if it's just counting supplies or bandaging up basic cuts. This ain't the Ritz and I quit cleaning up after kids when mine got old enough to fix their own messes.

And I'm only going to say this once, then I'm liable to start smacking folks. If you don't know how to fight a zombie, stay inside.

I feel like I'm in one of Connor's video game things. I suppose that'll be the complete lack of decent sleep, the coffee that I'm pretty much inhaling now, and the fact that I'm sat on a fourth floor balcony, picking off never-ending zombies with this rifle.

I shot that old man from the supermarket this morning. The one who refuses to let me bag anything, he has to do it himself. He was eating something but I didn't want to look too closely. Headshot.

It reminds me of the time Connor made me play Doom across the network at the ARC and he'd built the level to look like the ARC, and he'd changed all the monsters to look like Lester and Leek. Only it's a lot more real now. Even if it doesn't feel like it.

[Filtered to Eames and Arthur]

Morpheus.

I met Morpheus.

He's real. He exists.



I just. I cannot comprehend this.