April 28th, 2066

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We still haven't heard any search teams entering or leaving the house above us. They'll definitely come by, someday, it's just a matter of when. My disease is documented at a local hospital and the government has total access to that information.

Their ability to access my medical records is not a result of the Perfect America Bill, mind you; it's a result of laws that were written and passed several decades ago (not that I believe the government ever truly cared about getting permission to do whatever it pleased).

Nothing interesting is happening in the bunker, of course. My mother and I both have numerous books down here, but I made the mistake of bringing my "favorite" books, rather than stories I've never read. I can only read these same novels so many times before they become as bland and predictable as the vegetable soup my mother is currently preparing.

My doctor told me that it's important to write in my journal every day and that if nothing interesting happened that day, I should simply write about something from my past. If we continue to sit in this bunker and wait for the search team, I might have to start writing about life before my disease. It's not terribly interesting, but it's definitely more interesting than steel walls and cold soup.

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