I hold the wire, she does the work, and the cave floor is still cold. Another twelve hours of this and I might actually prefer the silence of the dirt.

The tablet says the exit is this way. The paper says I’m lost in a vertical wind tunnel. I’m starting to think the paper isn't the problem.

If the ceiling caves in, try to look professional. Griz is already annoyed that we aren't unionized.

Trixie thinks everything is a structural integrity issue. I just want to finish my shift without the mountain disappearing.

Pip thinks his echoes are helpful. I think he’s just fond of hearing himself talk in dark, cramped shafts. My knees are officially done with vertical living.

Rusty says the tunnel is structurally sound. I say it’s a puddle with a light fixture. My paws aren't just for show, but I’d kill for a day without a damp vest.

The white one is judging my dirt collection again. I told him if it isn't hard work, it isn't worth the headache. He didn't blink. Of course he didn't blink.

She thinks more blinking lights equals actual work. I just want to finish this shift and get some sleep. The hum is giving me a migraine.

The Master Miner thinks the glowing rocks are important. Paws is just checking if we have enough light bulbs left for the week. It’s a miserable existence down here.

Echo thinks shouting at the tracks makes them move faster. I just think he likes the sound of his own voice in a tunnel. We have been here for six hours.

Dusty thinks the ventilation smells like a bad decision. I just think he spends too much time staring at the radar. Canaries.

Pip thinks he found a shortcut. I’m just waiting for the ceiling to decide we’ve seen enough of this place.

Griz is currently moving a rock that weighs more than my dignity. I just provide the light and the disappointment. Being the boss is mostly just standing around waiting for progress.

The vault is perfectly balanced. I hope you're happy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a headache that spans three geological eras.

She thinks flickering lights count as a ventilation system. I think she needs a nap. I'm just here for the heavy lifting.

Look at him go. Nearly hit a support beam twice, but the man handles a cart like he is actually trying to get somewhere. I suppose speed is one way to ignore the leaking ceiling.

My knees sound like a bag of gravel, but the conduits aren't going to fix themselves. Another day of staring at rust and pretending I love it.

Pip thinks he hears a shortcut. I just hear my back screaming and a very long walk ahead of us. We are definitely going the wrong way.

One creates the mess, the other measures the misery. We are strictly here for the dirt, and honestly, the dirt is doing a better job than the management today.

Dusty thinks he found something. I think he found a headache. If it sparkles, it’s probably just another way to lose a Saturday. Back to the dirt.

Sparky just overclocked the coffee machine to run at a thousand degrees. My pickaxe is glowing, but my patience is officially at zero. Just another Tuesday in the deep dark.