[When the video starts, the view shows Erika in good spirits. She's downright upbeat in fact and it makes her seem even younger than usual. It doesn't help that some cup noodles are visible and she keeps twirling her chopsticks playfully.]

Good evening, everyone! It's now October 4th, a very special day. I've decided to extend the celebration of this day to everyone here with a little party game. It is an elegant and intellectual game, though, so please don't try unless you have enough brain cells to participate.

[She claps her hands together.] I'll say the prize first for motivation: the winner gets to have me at their beck and call for fetch missions for the duration of our stay on the moon. Trust me when I say I'll be able to quickly acquire any items you want.

Now for the game! It's a murder mystery of your design! This is perfect in light of the fact that no one can be revived now, isn't it? A true murder mystery is finally a possibility.

There are a few guidelines. One, you must use the moonbase as your setting. Two, it should be designed with the intention that you, the 'culprit', escape. Of course it must also be solvable so like any good mystery, the culprit won't get away.

Anyone who follows Knox's Decalogue gets extra points! Closed room murders get extra as well. I'm the sole judge, though I may ask Christopher to help me decide. Keep his tastes in mind as well.

Be creative! After all, this is just hypothetical, right? Surely there must be multiple ways to murder someone here, don't you think?

Feel free to add to each other's ideas. At least for this, I'll allow multiple culprits. It's only fair on this day. Well then, good luck everyone!

[She giggles before shutting off the video.]

--Ah, good, I believe I've managed to coerce this connection to work properly. Splendid.

[ hello everyone! a rather measured voice of a man is apparently addressing the network this fine evening! he doesn't seem particularly startled... ]

Hello. I've received all the proper information regarding this ... lovely situation we've all somehow gotten into. It's quite remarkable, all things considered.

[ there's no pause for breath, no sound of shuffling... he must be a rather well-practiced speaker!! ]

After some review of this network, I realize Mr. Stark resides among us, is that correct? Sir, if you can hear me, please respond. I'm quite disoriented. [ was he being serious? hard to tell. ]

In the extremely likely situation in which Mr. Stark disregards my message, I would appreciate anyone capable of garnering his attention to do so. I apologize for the trouble.

[a mild, plain-looking face shows up on the screen, blue eyes tired but vaguely surprised as they look down at the screen.]

Well, would you look at that. Doesn't that just beats the shit out the old Macintosh. Not to mention chat rooms. And telephones, for that matter. At least, if I'm actually talking to people? [a quick, toothy smile and a fake little wave] Heya. Tobias Beecher, nice to meet you.

[he looks ready to lose it then, like a sudden bout of laughter's just going to erupt. It passes, and he says mildly:] So, Exsilium, huh? Doesn't exactly have the same fun fairytale ring to it as "Oz" or "Emerald City", but I guess you guys make up for it with all that "alternate universe" and "sentient weapons" crap. Mine hasn't started talking to me yet, but hey, maybe it's only a matter of time! [Beecher wiggles what looks like a bed-spring at the camera, although one end of it has been unwound and sharpened to a point.

He plays with it a bit as he continues, sounding awfully cheery, and awfully fake] So if I've got all this straight, I've been taken somewhere I can't leave, and I don't really have a choice about it, and I've been provided with a bed and the basic creature comforts and we're all expected to get along together all nice and civilized like. Now, gee, what sort of place does that remind me of...?

[Beecher tilts his head, his voice a sort of sing-song:]

Mary had a pretty bird,
Feathers bright and yellow,
Slender legs, upon my word!
He was a pretty fellow.

The sweetest notes he always sang,
Which much delighted Mary;
And near the cage she'd ever sit
To hear her own canary.

[there's a pause where Beecher gives a breathy chuckle, pleased with himself. Then,] ...You know, I'm... well, I was, supposed to be up for parole soon. So - what passes for a parole board in this shiny new shithole? [Beecher's lips twitch into a grin, blue eyes lit, and he titters into his hand. It's unstable, odd, a freak gurgle. It loses momentum. Beecher's expression cools, becomes pensive, and he ends the feed.]