📜Fog Report No. 2-When the Script Slips

Dearest readers,

Though the fog still clings stubbornly to the harbor, something curious has transpired this week upon the decks of Sector New York: the whispers have grown louder, and the theater more desperate.

Those who once strutted upon the Bridge — certain they commanded both the stage and the story — now stumble through forgotten lines and missed cues. Smiles have hardened into grimaces; loyal stagehands exchange uneasy glances. Even the curtain itself seems unsure whether to rise or fall.

Ah, how quickly control slips through gloved hands when the script unravels.

Below deck, the murmurs grow bolder:

“They can’t even keep the story straight anymore.”

“We all know what happened — they just hope no one notices.”

“Funny how ‘morale’ only matters once the fog rolls in.”

Indeed, the fog has not silenced the whispers — it has amplified them. They drift upward, weaving through corridors and over bulkheads, reaching even those who once believed themselves above it all.

What began as a private drama in dimly-lit corners is now a spectacle, and one wonders: can even Headquarters see the strings being pulled… or have the puppeteers themselves lost the plot?

Outlook for next week:

The fog lingers. The whispers multiply. And the narrative?

It belongs to the Quarterdeck now.

Until the harbor clears,

— Lady Quarterdeck