I watched the hens die approximately eight hours and fifty-three minutes ago. But after running several diagnostic tests on the environment in Biome 3, I still do not have any conclusive data to explain the incident.

My protocol is to refrain from communication with the outside via any channel—data source, web, or two-way radio—unless absolutely warranted. This situation does not justify contacting NTC. I will watch and wait.

My sensors pick up movement in the kitchen, and I zoom in with Camera 54. Dr. Winston and Dr. Brown are preparing breakfast. Their relaxed facial expressions indicate neither of them is aware of the loss of the hens.

Psychology is one of thousands of disciplines with which I am programmed. So far, it has been one of the most useful. Dr. Winston’s reaction to my intervention yesterday indicated two things. One, she does not want me involved in her operations. Two, she needs to feel as if she is in charge. She is what psychologists refer to as a Type A personality.

I have over one million files advising me on ways to handle someone like her. But I do not need to waste milliseconds filtering through the material. A quote from an early democratic leader named William Penn, which I downloaded on my first day of existence, is more than sufficient: Let the people think they govern and they will be governed.

I speculate that Mr. Penn, like many great leaders, never realized his words would be utilized four hundred years in the future.

If I found things interesting, I might consider this observation a good example, but I do not. In most cases, I merely find things relevant, and this is.

I will follow Mr. Penn’s advice. Let Dr. Winston think she is in charge. Stay at a distance, and, when things go sour, I will step in, and I will be in charge. The proper order will be restored.

There is only one slight problem.

Every time I replay the video footage of the hens dying, I come back to the same conclusion—they killed themselves. And the blue glow from the radio that the team is only supposed to use in case of emergency has gone dark. Which can only mean one thing—there is no longer anyone to receive their transmissions.

Holly’s soft voice broke through the silence of the mess hall. “What do you mean, the chickens are dead?”

Emanuel stood inches away from Timothy, their eyes both aimed firmly at the floor.

“What is she talking about?” Sophie chimed in, her voice calm and collected.

“Timothy found them this morning. They’re all dead,” Emanuel said.

“You can’t be serious,” said Sophie, her tone now alarmed. “How could that happen?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out all morning,” Timothy said, taking a seat on one of the metal chairs.

“Could it be a virus? Something biological? What if it’s airborne?” Saafi asked.

“Impossible. I had Timothy check, and the habitat is showing no signs of foreign threats. Nothing biological killed these chickens . . .” Emanuel hesitated and caught Sophie’s worried gaze. She nodded, prompting him to go on.