I sleep fitfully in my room. It stinks of oil and burning plastic, but it's a bed. I can't remember what my dreams are about. They slip through my fingers and tell me that they were never there. I agree with them.
Someone knocks on the door.
I jerk up, ask who it is. The drill's overheating. This is serious shit, then, if he's not lying. I run to the control room. Turn it off, I say.