"Somebody who looks as much like a priest as this place looks like as an asylum, writing instructions on the wall. Talking about God. Tells me not to be afraid.
How was I ever a part of this inhumane bullshit greed-driven moral genocide? The monsters Murkoff ripped from tortured minds, the lengths their jack-booted business school worms will go to protect it. Their own men slaughtered. I've never prayed in my life, Lisa, but if some small-minded interventionist god is listening, kill Jeremy Blaire before I die. Sanity and avarice. There's no pain he doesn't deserve.
There is no radio. No hope of reaching the outside world. Only escape."