text. un: archivist.

[question]

A moment of your time, if I may. I only just arrived, so I'm endeavoring to answer all the requisite stupid questions — I've never been in space before, I don't remember coming here, I want to go home, and so on. But I understand that we're all in the same boat, so I'll spare you the crisis.

However. I looked over the staff positions, and after some exploration through this filthy maze of a place, I have come to the conclusion that offering to play librarian is pointless when I cannot find the damn library. Has anybody come across it? If not, have we managed to open anywhere that's locked off? Several of the crew floors have recreational facilities, but not the 5th, so that's my best guess for our missing library.

Finally. I'm actually recording this from spoken word to text as I appear to have superglued my fingers together with this- this space glue-gun. Does anyone know how to dissolve the stuff? Or should I resign myself to losing the skin of my fingertips?

Message ends.

Comments

[thieving]

Cutting yourself on glass seems a small price to pay for freedom of your fingers.

[ coward!!! ]

Perhaps there are scalpels in the medbay. Or a knife in the mess hall. I'd be happy to be of service if you haven't found yourself someone else who can help.

[ trust a stranger with a knife. yes. ]

[question]

At the very least you can help find me something sharp to work with.

[ he'll assess whether he wants your help with the cutting part once he actually meets you, thanks. ]