"I don't know," he snapped, voice hoarse and his teeth clinching. He pressed a hand over his mouth, holding back a tumble of words that would only be hurtful.

He played all of us. We were just game pieces to him. Cogs in that fucking machine. The eternal fucking engine.

"I don't know," he said again, weaker. "Wilford said that the revolution was necessary. We were culling the herd. Restoring balance. But we weren't supposed to make it past the water supply car. Gilliam... he didn't hold up his end of the bargain."