[Lydia grins into the camera. Slowly, she lifts a plastic card in front of her, the top appearing first and then being raised higher until it can be clearly seen:

City Solutions
Employee ID
Martin, Lydia
Lab Assistant


Her grin grows into a full-blown smile.]

Guess who's gonna be doing science and getting paid for it? That's right, kids. This girl, that's who.

[This post comes up at nighttime, roundabout midnight.]

So I've had a thought. With all the inventors and geniuses in the City right now, how come there's no-one developping some software that let others know when a person is cursed? Just think about it, we - the users - have to answer a few safety questions, and if we don't get all the answers right, for example, an alert message can be sent to our most trusted person.

Alternately, it could just prevent you from sending embarrassing text messages to everyone, for example. I know the general effort is focused on getting everyone out, but that's like saying the general effort when you're stuck on a deserted island is to swim back to your country. Can't we build a raft first? Just consider it.

[There's a pause.] Also, is there any newspaper in the City?

I will admit envying Thor his ability to slip the noose of every situation and leave all others at the gallows awaiting their fate while he remains without guile for the ease at which he moves through life, so often at the expense of others.

Though, I likewise admit to interest in what this place is, how it is kept between realms, how access is barred save for those who know how to pass between the borders. Have any of the other forced inhabitants here illumination to shed on the subject? Even theories would be acceptable, I do miss intelligent discourse, so hard to find in any realm.

[July is looking weaker than he usually does. Dry as well. There are wrinkles on his skin as if he's a plant drying up due to lack of water. At first it's not clear if this video is even intentional but soon he looks right at the screen to speak.]

Mad Hatter, I tried to get us food for me to make but I was not able to get far.

[He sways a little and it's shown he's in the entrance hall of the mansion he lives in.]

Something is wrong with my body.

[Report made. He ends the recording now.]

No like this City magic! It make much leaves. Wind blow many leaves onto Opera House's land, cover dwelling. Me sweep-sweep-sweep all day.

Me hunter, not what called landscaper!