It was a gloomy day at Site-19.
“They just cut our funding again,” Dr. Bergstrom said, speaking around a mouthful of Salisbury steak. “I’m down to two assistants.”
“I hear you, man,” Agent Rourke said with a sigh. “My team’s getting evaluated by Director Daniels tomorrow. I just know he’s gonna disband us. I’ll probably end up working a fucking desk job.”
Dr. Wynne, carrying a tray of food, came over and sat down at their cafeteria table.
“This fucking place,” she spat. “They just told us they’re gonna be transferring half the staff in our department to other Sites. Said they’re trying to ‘trim the fat’. I swear, I'm in the wrong business. I bet GOC scientists don't have to put up with this kind of shit."
Dr. Bergstrom shook his head. “Yeah, working for the Foundation really isn’t what it used to be. Did I tell you they even took away our entire D-class allowance? We’re having to test anomalies on animals now!”
“Same here,” Agent Rourke said. “We used to get ‘em for use in high-risk explorations, but then they just stopped sending them over.”
Dr. Wynne nodded. “Us too. Apparently it's like that everywhere, not just Site-19. They're saying we’re gonna have to make do without D-class from now on.”
“Huh,” Dr. Bergstrom said, frowning. “I wonder what that’s about.”
“Who knows?” Agent Rourke said with a shrug.
For a while the three of them ate in silence.
"Well, at least meat's back on the menu," Dr. Bergstrom said at last.