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[corkscrewed]

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[epistemological]

Thoughts?

[ It's an invitation. ]

[corkscrewed]

Just...

[ he makes an unhappy little noise. ]

You won't think less of me?

[epistemological]

[ There's a short pause, but it's the kind of pause you give because you want to give an honest answer.]

No. No, of course not.

[corkscrewed]

I miss her. I - think I miss her, at least, but it's hard to know-

[ the words are so hard to say. more quietly, he tries: ]

I keep thinking, what an awful end that has to be. That - it's like she never existed at all. No one can remember her.

[epistemological]

Melanie can.

[ He takes a sip.]

Sometimes... sometimes I envy her so much my hands clench. She can see her face.

All I have are tapes. Tapes with her voice.

[ He looks over at Martin.]

I have them with me. If- if you'd like to hear it.

[corkscrewed]

You do? You - I thought you said they were all - yes! Please. If you don't mind.

[epistemological]

The- the Not!Sasha stole them. Kept them in her desk. I recovered them, just before I went to smash the table.

[ And that is all he's saying about that as he gets up from his chair, going over to the same corner that has the file box. There's a case beside it where there's some tapes and he pulls out three of them and a second tape recorder.

He tries not to meddle with the one that's become his warden item. But he puts the second one on the table and places the tape with Sasha's full statement on it in there.

Then he presses play.]

[corkscrewed]

[ the alcohol will have hit fully by the time the statement ends. martin watches the recorder, silent for a long moment, before he clears his throat and glances over at the table. ]

She sounds like a stranger.

[epistemological]

I've listened to it... dozens of times. And every time, I tell myself 'this is Sasha. The real Sasha.'

[ He ejects the tape.]

She always sounds like a stranger.

[corkscrewed]

Maybe it's just because... people always sound different on tape.

[ he's scrambling here. ]

[epistemological]

[ He looks up at that.]

Martin.

[ That's all he says.]

[corkscrewed]

I just mean, maybe that's why she doesn't sound familiar.

[epistemological]

Martin.

[ Self delusion is not a good idea.]

[corkscrewed]

I should go back, at least. I should - take care of - the thing pretending to be her.

[ he's getting punchy now, more upset than he'd realized. ]

[epistemological]

I'm bringing her back, Martin.

[ He looks up past his glass at Martin.]

That's what I'm doing here. I'm going to save Sasha. And Michael Shelley. And Gerard Keay. All the sacrificed archival assistants. All those trapped by the Institute.

[corkscrewed]

Gerard was an assistant?

[ yeah his volume is definitely rising now. ]

What do you mean sacrificed?

[epistemological]

He worked with Gertrude. And she... she didn't kill him, but she skinned him. Used him, after his death. Put him in a Leitner so she wouldn't lose his knowledge.

[ As far as he's concerned. ]

And I mean... what I said. Gertrude...

Michael. The Spiral. The Distortion, the one with the doors.

Once upon a time, his name was Michael Shelley.

[corkscrewed]

The same one who worked-

[ he's dragging his hand through his hair. ]

I'm, I think I'm going to go for a walk.

[ there's no escape from this. ]

[epistemological]

As I said... there's a guest room. Down the hall and to the right.

[ He's not sure he can quite handle Martin walking away from him again. ]

Go... go have a lie down.

[corkscrewed]

I don't want to lie down. Thought I'd go - to the arcade or something. That'd be fun.

[epistemological]

Then fine, go.

[ And he downs the rest of the drink and puts the glass down.]

[corkscrewed]

You could come. I just - I don't want to keep talking about this.

[epistemological]

You're the one who-

[ He grumbles at that point and breathes out hard.]

We could put on a film. Play a game. I don't- talk about literally anything else.

[corkscrewed]

Let's do a film, then.

[ he's so strangely uncomfortable, and upset, and he wishes suddenly that he weren't drunk. ]

[epistemological]

[ Jon stands, and that's when it becomes a lot clearer how much of the bottle he's been through though he makes his way over to the den without much trouble. He flops onto the couch without much dignity, grabbing at a control before pressing it on and grabbing up what is clearly some sort of gaming controller to start looking for his film collection.]