[This is quite distressing. For Murphy, that is. He pretty much spent the last hour turning his entire living quarters upside-down (considering that there isn't much there to start with, he did a lot of flipping things over, checking under the bed, et cetera), but no dice in his favor.

[Well, he did manage to unearth some things. Like a half-eaten nutrition bar from the kitchen that he'd forgotten about last week, and had now somehow found its way stuck to the sheets of his bed. He also managed to locate a piece of foil, a plastic cup, and some old soap. So, yes. His room was in such a charming state of disarray.

[In spite of all of this, one thing remains missing. He beats himself up over the prospect that, maybe, there's a slim chance that he had taken it out at some point during one of his many outings and, God forbid, actually left it somewhere.]

"...So, I might have, ah, misplaced somethin' of mine recently." [He tries not to sound too earnest about it. Wouldn't want to make it seem like it's actually IMPORTANT or anything.] "It's... This... is gonna sound stupid, but it's a journal. Black, leather-bound. Got some stuff in it..."

["Please don't read it," he wants to say. But that's just about as subtle as dropping a goddamned grand piano on someone's head, isn't it?]

"I'd really like it back, if you find it. Thanks."

[What troubles him isn't just the fact that something of his has gone missing -- but that journal contains some... almost incriminating personal material on him. All of the police reports, parole papers, news articles, memorandums, and taunting bits of evidence riddled throughout his hellish gander down Memory Lane that led right into Silent Hill... Those things? Are all in that journal he's trying to desperately track down. And all it took was for a curious snoop to sneak into his room or snatch from his pocket (as he normally keeps his most important belongings on his person).

[More importantly, though? That journal also has photos. Of his son. Things from his old life. Also things that he would very much like to have back.

["God, just... stupid, stupid, STUPID..." Murphy is chastising himself to the point of hanging up abruptly. Of all things to get fucking careless about...]

[ This is Chuck's first time on film around here so he looks a little shifty, but he gives a nervous sort of smile. Oh yeah, he's totally about to give a poignant speech. Watch out. ]

So, I guess we’re all stuck in space, huh. [ so poignant. ] Not exactly how I pictured my first space-mission going, especially the part about the potentially deadly space illness or being stuck in the goo-filled pods. Without clothes. And almost being choked to death. Just an average day around here, I guess.

[ .... cue crickets before Chuck finally clears his throat. ]

Maybe we should think about changing that part up. Beaming people up to space with their clothes might be a gentler transition. Baby steps, you know? First space, then goo filled pods, then the fact that we might die or get eaten by intergalactic beasts if we're not careful.

Yes? No? Could I get a vote from the members of my audience?

[ After a second, Chuck just sort of sighs. Not really expecting a response, his tone changes ever so slightly when he continues, leaning more towards the serious. ] Look, i’ve been through enough life changing experiences in my life already, ending up in space wasn’t really on my list of things I wanted to do before I died. I mean, yeah sure, I like Galaga and Asteroids as much as the next guy, but i’m pretty sure the whole... space thing isn’t for me. [ At this point he just looks kind of done with this whole thing, but he's trying to get it over with. ]

Since i’m pretty sure i’m not up here for any reason other than to see just how badly i’ll fail, think i’ll be trying to find the next... pod out of here. But before that, has anyone been able to phone home yet?