12 October 2027
Tuesday. Quiet one. Read back over the logbook by head torch while the pairs were under.
My spelling has not improved in six years. My tallies have not changed either. Two, two, two. I find that a comfort.
Got thinking about reading in the dark. From what I hear through the timber, there’s a fair bit of reading in those boxes, and talking about what was read, in English, with not much light to do it by. Best if both of the pair are comfortable with it, the staff say, and at least one of them has to be.
It’s always just the two, mind, and only the two you came with. No strangers in the next box. I like that about it. Whatever’s said through the timber stays between the pair of them and the cameras, and the cameras don’t gossip.
Tally: plots disturbed, two. Pages read, forty. Spelling mistakes found, I stopped counting at twelve.
— H., groundskeeper
