I need to come up with a title.
I was told by the hotel clerk(!) at check-in that I had driven through Dunwich. If that was it, I have to admit that I was expecting more from the former capital of the Miskatonic Free State. Or perhaps a lot less; the old regime wasn’t shy about flattening rebellions, sometimes from orbit. I’m sure there’s a good story there, but it can wait until the morning. It’ll have to. DepCom has put me up in the local Hilton, and it’s just as rustic as the name suggests. No full-spectrum correspondence. No predictive feedback. Most of the items aren’t even discoverable! I knew things were bad here — that’s why they sent me to survey the region — but I hadn’t realized how bad. Checking my mail is like trying to eat steak through a straw.
To be fair, my meal was excellent, the room is clean, and the bed is comfortable. Oh, and the suite does come with a vidscreen, although I’m stuck with whatever’s in the local library. I should think of this as an extended camping trip, with no bugs and indoor toilets. I can do that for a month, right? …Why I am I asking my daily log this?