"Even if they were, and even if we did return to my planet, it would still be a terrible idea for them to let one out on the word of the employee who just spend days in the gut of an SCP doing who knows what."

"Are we in for unpleasant screening procedures of some kind?"

He grimaces.

"Probably, if we come out in a world where the Foundation has found this skip."

Sigh. "What kind of unpleasant screening procedures?"

"It depends on how much they know about the skip we’re in. There will likely be a period of partial quarantine and questioning. If they’ve verified that this skip has no memetic properties or properties that are otherwise infectious, this will likely be brief. But, if that’s still in question it could be several weeks. I’m afraid that what I’ve told you will make it more intensive than it otherwise would be. But, I hope that it will also make them more inclined to considering hiring you."

"I already don't know what I'm going to tell my husband about having gone missing and going missing for longer will not help."

He's silent for a moment.

"It's likely that, even if we do manage to escape, it won't be to a world either of us know. It would be good to come to terms with that now, if you can, because what we do immediately after escaping is going to matter and I'm not sure we can afford the time to grieve."

"I thought you said my door was relatively likely."

"I think it is, but relatively likely is not the same thing as certain. We may end up in your world. We may end up somewhere else. If we don't end up in your world or mine, you can't afford to have a breakdown."

"Acting unlike someone would, uncoached, act in my situation is less suspicious?"

"Being suspicious isn't the problem. But, I don't know who we are going to meet. Even if it is the Foundation, the individual people who happen to be present are going to matter and I can't predict that. If they regularly get escapees from this skip, they may have a process for wiping memories and reintegration into society that doesn't leave any time for them to convince them to hire you. If they're on high alert, they might want to close the door immediately, before we can get anyone else out. I don't know. You might be okay if you have a breakdown, but not having a breakdown would certainly help."

"I won't have a breakdown."

He shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. I just, don't know if I'll be able to help you, afterwards. If this isn't my Foundation, then I'm a huge info-hazard and they're likely lock me up immediately. And... I don't want them to wipe your memory and dump you in a hospital somewhere, but I'm not sure I can actually do anything to stop it."

After a moment, he says "If you do get hired, you'll be able to tell your husband. Not everything, but enough."

"How much is enough? I was imagining going, 'hi Ned, I'm changing jobs, we're never having children, my life expectancy is shot but I do think it's that important'."

"He can know anomalous phemenona exist, as long as you're reasonably confident he won't spread it. The details of particular SCPs still need to remain secret."

"Why is the line drawn there?"

"It's not, exactly, I'm generalizing. You can get permission to share things about certain skips, particularly the less dangerous ones. You're required to check because an alarming number of skips spread just through knowing about them, so we want to keep a record of who knows about what."

"I suppose that makes sense."

Kyoya puts together a flagpole and finds a bright red sheet that will service as a flag. He begins making a more detailed map of the surrounding area. 

Miranda helps with the map.

The other residents of the settlement think it's a waste of time, but most agree to come if they see the flag being raised. 

It's something. Miranda takes phone notes to compose herself.

A few days later, one of the areas they're passing through does not match what they previously recorded on their map.

Previously, this area was full of desk set-ups. Today, it is full of childrens' bedroom furniture.