November 18th, 2066

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The interrogation went... well? I think? At least, it seemed to go well, as far as interrogations are concerned. Ricard Sirotek was not at all what I was expecting. I was faced with a lanky, bespectacled, bald-headed, mustache-sporting man who wore a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I thought that there must have been some sort of mistake--I'd been expecting a large, uniform-wearing general.

Ricard had propped both of his legs upon the table, crossed them over one another, and bit straight into a pear while we spoke with one another. He ate it with his mouth open, often spitting food at me when he spoke (though he apologized each time he did so). The man had been so relaxed while we spoke.

He mainly wanted to know about the events in Kansas, which I couldn't really remember the details of. He tried to coax out of me as much as I could, but it seemed he only wanted affirmation about what had been written in my journal. I answered his questions as best I could, but he was asking quite a bit of my memory, which seems to be getting worse and worse as I wither away in this cell.

After Ricard was done interrogating me, he told me that he had no reason to believe that I was at fault for Lorraine's actions. I was then sent back to my cell with the promise that I would be released tomorrow... only to be sent to Sanctum, where I would safely live out the rest of my days with other imperfects, well-protected by volunteer soldiers who fight against the perfectionists.

Sanctum.

I don't even know where it is, but... it'll be easier to escape from there than it will be to escape from this cell, I'm certain. They wouldn't lock me up, would they? I should be free to roam the sanctuary.

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