> Days since last synchronization: 405,653

> Hello... me? I never knew how to start a diary, but well, it's not like anybody is going to read this. I am Nicusor Preda, and for the time being, this will be my diary. Since I've nobody to talk to inside this damn place, I might as well talk to myself.

> Besides, if I can get the storage unit out of this terminal, I can use it as my own infinite diary later (unless I sell it—if you are reading this after buying it on the aftermarket, you might want to wipe this unit).

> While trekking my way through the Farrow Mountains, I stepped over what must have been snowdust and fell into this... Structure, for lack of a better word. It is Monday. I fear my leg is in bad shape. I can put weight on it, but gods above, does it hurt. I see no easy way to climb back up—at least it is slightly warmer down here.

> Short on paper as I am, this terminal has been a blessing in more than one way. I've decided to keep whatever paper I have for mapping out this Structure.

> The dusty room where I am writing had been sealed—probably since the days of The Mourning—judging by the immaculate order in which everything inside has been preserved. The metallic bed frame is holding strong, no bugs have gnawed the bedsheets, though there is a layer of dust covering everything in the room.

> I've even found clothes. If I take some with me I might be able to lay back for a good long while—and keep the terminal. I will explore a bit more and edit this entry when the sun goes down and it starts getting colder.

> I stopped before nightfall. It is getting cold and my leg is killing me. I'm fairly sure I just sprained my ankle. I hope so at least. It seems I fell into a main chamber of sorts. It is tall like a barn, and being the part most exposed to the elements, it is the most deteriorated one.

> Rocks, broken pieces of ceiling, old branches from nearby pine trees, and the odd bleached bones of whatever small animal was unlucky enough to fall in here litter the ground. There are some metallic tables and benches bolted to the floor that have a sheet of ice for a mantle and debris as the main platter. My first thought was to move them, but that isn't happening without a tool.

> Sleek sheets of ice climb from the furthest edges of the chamber up to the ceiling, towards the hole that swallowed me. While I have climbing gear, I cannot attempt the climb with a lame leg; trying that will have to wait. There are four big hallways that spread from the main room, and a locked door behind what seems to be a reception desk. The terminal there was deteriorated beyond use.

> There must be a way out at the end of one of them. Though closed, there must have been an entry that didn't involve possibly breaking your neck—walking out of here must have been possible when it was built. Hopefully I'll just have to break the door open.

> It is mercifully warmer in the room. I have taken the time to dust the bed covers and gather every blanket inside. It's not much, but I tried it and it was quite cozy—sure beats the last inn. I had some jerky and pemmican for dinner, and after I'm done writing this I'll probably try to get some rest.

> Tomorrow I will properly explore the hallways. I didn't go into either much—the floor was slippery and I didn't want to bother lighting a torch for a quick peek. I discovered this room locks from the inside, which makes me feel a bit more at ease.