The following is a brief transmission from the personal feed of A92-Salome. It was recieved 01/08/2019. This is only the fifth transmission since MTF-Alpha-92's disappearance.

<Begin Log>

The camera is looking at a series of drawings on a large sheet of paper. They appear to be a form of blueprints for a large spire, to be placed over a central city square at four points.

The spire is portrayed as being composed entirely from light. This light is portrayed as being transmitted directly into the skulls of a large crowd surrounding it. The people around it are staring up in a worshipful posture. The alchemical symbol for gold is positioned above the spire; a faint hand can be seen drawn in the background of the picture, reaching towards this symbol.

The camera looks up. A92-Descent is standing directly in front of the camera, clearly agitated. A92-Orellana is standing several feet back, his expression indistinct due to shadow. The MTF members are standing near the edge of one of SCP-4797-1's pleasure garden rings, a few metres away from the edge. A table has been erected to place the blueprints on in the middle of one of the gardens.

A92-Descent: -won't do it. The chances are tiny. The only thing that would allow that is some greater intent, some greater design that we can't see.

A92-Salome: It comes and goes. I have seen the logs, I looked at the files.

A92-Descent: You can't send- Christ alive, Sal, you know as well as I do what they'll do with it. It's in all our dreams and it's not even there any more.

A92-Salome: Exactly. Useful. They just need to tweak it, fine tune it. Make it something better than it was. We're Foundation, Des, we have three simple rules. Secure. Contain. Protect. Think what we can do with this!

A92-Orellana: There isn't a "we" any more. We're stuck down here.

A92-Descent: You don't know that.

A92-Salome: It doesn't matter if we are.

A92-Descent: Our limitations are what keep us honest. The things we could do! You've seen the tech the natives have. If we, we c-converted them, if we helped them underst-

A92-Salome: You can't make a savage understand. That's all they are. Savages. It gets so cold down here, and it's even colder in their dens.

A92-Descent: They have fire.

A92-Orellana: They don't want our help, Des.

A92-Descent: Oh for- why are you even still here, Or? You never do anything. You just hunt your birds and murmur those fucking songs about the trams of San Francisco. It makes me sick.

A92-Salome: He's a member of the team. He's not a traitor.

A92-Orellana: Sal-

A92-Descent: I'm not-

A92-Salome: The Foundation has one duty and one duty only. I'm not going to stop just because some light-addled-

A92-Orellana: Your headset, Cortes. Is that a green light?

There is a pause of several seconds. A92-Salome reaches up to check something on his headset.

A92-Salome: Half a minute. More than enough time. They must have seen the blueprints.

A92-Descent: So it's over, then.

A92-Descent slumps to the floor. A92-Orellana approaches the others.

A92-Orellana: We need to get moving. The tribes will catch up with us soon.

A92-Salome: Let them come. We've done our duty now.

A92-Orellana: I don't intend to die down here. Think of Angel.

A92-Descent: Angel decided to run in the middle of their camp, brandishing a weapon. He wanted that. It was suicide, not murder.

A92-Salome takes out a match from her jumpsuit.

A92-Descent: You still have one left?!

A92-Salome lights the match, and watches it burn down towards her finger.

A92-Salome: All that we were is a tool. A weapon, sent downwards, to illuminate the hidden places on a map. Now it's done, and I want to feel again. Something, again. We're never getting out of here with our selves intact.

A92-Orellana reaches forward and snuffs out the match.

A92-Orellana: Enough of that. There's plenty of life to go around. Nobody else is going to die around here. We still have our eyes and our wits. I barely remember the world above, but I remember you two, and I intend to keep it that way. We have to keep moving. We have to surv-

The feed abruptly cuts out.