May 3rd

The tram went fine. Slight nausea and mild headaches. It faded quite quickly in the library and I felt remarkably fine on the way back. If I took the tram more often, I could probably adjust to the motion of it. My scopolamine prescription helps me sleep, even if just as a placebo, but I could do without the dry mouth. 

I ended up checking out The Interpretation of Dreams--almost chose the apparently quite well-abridged On Dreams, but decided it was worth giving up some free time for the full text--and 10,000 Dreams Interpreted. Would’ve picked up “Dr.” Jonas Allard’s quack piece on the unconscious mind for a laugh, but, unsurprisingly, we don’t stock the works of the great mind behind Black Mesa, White Lies. Still the funniest gag gift I’ve ever received. I read a portion to Perl a few months ago and he was laughing uncontrollably. Comparing us to the illuminati, dear God.

When I returned, I was surprised to find most of the biologists had already relocated to our side of the facility. I shook a few hands who were delighted by the prototype I sent them last week. It excited me, but left me oddly tired. I was never for the shaking hands part of the job. In any case, they say they’re still stress testing it, a process which will no doubt be delayed by the quarantine. I miss having a project. Hopefully I’ll be able to make a few tweaks to the model when they get back to me with the results of their tests. Judging by what they told me today, they’re incredibly enthusiastic with the performance of the model. I wonder what they’ve killed with it?

I’ll read through as much Freud as I can tonight. Can’t stop glancing at the copy of Black Mesa, White Lies on my dresser and chuckling. Should probably hide it better. I don’t imagine being caught with conspiracy media about one’s own workplace is a great look.

Signed,
Dale R.