[Unlike many of the other people on the Barge, David isn't really overly interested in talking to anyone back home, mostly because he doesn't really have a home to go back to, and let's just say he wasn't really on the best terms with most of his coworkers when he left.

Or perhaps more accurately, most of them were just dead, and therefore weren't really on the best of terms with anything anymore.

But he's still curious about who might be out there, and he wouldn't exactly hate talking to Elizabeth, if she happened to be out there.

He smiles politely at the camera, seated rigidly on the couch in his room - the "lifeboat" on the Prometheus, for anyone familiar with the ship.]

This is David. I would be interested in hearing a response from anyone receiving this message.

[David's about six months into his stay on the Barge and he's... frankly unimpressed. And a little bored. And a little annoyed with certain developments, so long as we're being totally honest, and after having a while to sit on it and think over the issue, he's turning on his communicator.]

In the past few months, two wardens have been demoted, [And both of them wardened people with his face, which is. Just weird. But there have been stranger freak coincidences in their lives, so.] and I've found myself wondering: why is it that inmates are subjected to such heavy questioning and scrutiny when they first arrive, and afterward, while wardens are almost automatically afforded a certain amount of trust by their peers?

Obviously, for the most part, it would seem that that trust hasn't been misplaced, but two demotions is still less than reassuring. Why should one put trust in any warden when they, too, have the potential to become an inmate?

I'm simply curious.

[Maybe.]

[The feed clicks on to show David, wearing his usual gray uniform, standing near the pool table on level six. He's holding a nail and studying it a bit before he says anything, turning it over and over again in his fingers before looking up and smiling politely at the camera, in that usual polite but definitely vaguely creepy way everyone should be accustomed to at this point.]

A colleague [More or less, although he doubted Holloway thought of him as such. He had always seemed to treat him as a child, or a tool, and one usually didn't consider either such things colleagues.] of mine and I once had a conversation about how far one was willing to go to get their answers. It is my understanding that most of you are here for something less abstract, but nevertheless just as hopefully satisfactory, often at extreme personal cost and risk.

So I would like to pose the same question to you, wardens: how far are you willing to go, to get what you came all this way for? What would you be willing to do?

[Private to Erik]

[After his chat with Pietro, David really did not know how to process it. At all. And while admittedly, there are potentially better people to talk to about this, the very confused robot is turning to someone he more or less respects and probably understands how fucking weird this whole thing is.]

May I have a word with you? [He doesn't exactly sound shaken, but. He certainly sounds less cool than he usually does.]

[David is standing in his cabin, still wearing his usual gray uniform, and considering he's certainly taller than the couch and the bar behind him, he's obviously not been shrunk down to the size of an action figure.]

It appears that I am unaffected. If anyone requires assistance, [He smiles slightly, perfectly polite.] feel free to let me know.

[David was basically completely undisturbed by the hotel, which meant he had a lot of time to lurk around in the basement, and thus has a story to tell all of you.

His voice is calm, and largely unemotional, like he's just reading this out of a textbook versus particularly excited or enthusiastic about sharing his findings with everyone, but that's not really anything new.]

The Overlook Hotel was built between the years of 1907 and 1909 and changed hands several times over the course of its [There's the briefest pause while David thinks of the best word to use here, and if this was a video, you'd be getting an almost smug smile from the robot.] illustrious history. Most significantly, it remained closed for the entirety of the Second World War until it was purchased by a Mr. Horace Derwent. Millionaire, inventor, pilot, film producer, entrepreneur. [Which David can't help but equate with a certain other genius billionaire he used to know, but he keeps any amount of bitterness out of his tone.]

Unfortunately, [Okay, sarcasm's another matter entirely, and it's clear David doesn't think there was much unfortunate about this.] hotel management seems to be the one thing Mr. Derwent was unsuccessful with, and after pouring millions of dollars into renovating it, he sold the hotel in 1954. It changed hands again, to a company that may have [But definitely was.] been involved in organized crime before being purchased by the owners responsible for the hotel during our brief visit.

It's not unusual for a place where significant numbers of people come and go to have their fair share of ghosts. Accidents, illnesses, suicides. Even murder. But the Overlook seemed to have an unusual number of them.

[And again, if this was a video, you would be getting a small, somewhat sharky smile.]

In case anyone was curious.