It finally happened: an agent has shot an uninfected civilian. I've spent most of the day under armed guard in my room since it's too dangerous to travel to the infirmary. The vaccine is finally turning the tide, but the town is on lock-down because some boozer mistook an agent for an infected. We haven't had a documented rogue for days, and we tried to let the public know, but undercurrents of a civil war have been boiling for a while now.

But it's not like there's riot going on right now. Actually there's nothing. Only the occasional patrol car breaks the silence. But isn't this the calm before the storm, or the eye of the storm, or something bad?

It's surprisingly difficult to find an unsupervised moment. I'm currently in the bathroom, typing on the toilet (with the lid down, of course; I'm not that gross). The guards aren't technically supposed to be in my room without reason, but I think they installed something yesterday. I've been reading parts of Goethe aloud and practicing my Elaine dance just in case.

I wish I had my hula chair so I could at least work out during my down time.