Dog Days
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July 3rd

It would be a hot summer.

Doctor Leslie Yolas was sitting on her porch, watching the sun sink below the horizon beyond endless rows of corn. She had moved back to the family farm not too long ago, and was still getting settled. Before she had moved back, it had been years since she was last here, but her situation changed and this is where she belonged now. Next to the doctor was her dog, slumped on the porch next to the chair. All was quiet, as things should be.

July 5th

Two days later (having taken the holiday off), Yolas drove to Site-19, ready for another day of the same old business as she had grown used to. She hadn't always worked in Site-19, but her previous Site simply didn't exist anymore. Most Foundation sites had been shuttered, in fact - only Site-19 remained, a lone monolith and testament to the past.

The parking lot was mostly empty. It was most of these days, since there wasn't much need for the activity that the sight had required in the past. There had been times when Yolas had thought that might happen, but it still surprised her how it came to past. She had always expected a little more doomsday in the desertion of Site-19. She had always expected one of those, to be honest.

There had once been a plethora of guards and gates surrounding the entrance to the Site, there was now just a single guard at the gate. Yolas didn't even bother to show her ID as she walked in - there was, simply, no need. The guard knew her, and he could check her off at his own leisure. To be frank, there was little within Site-19 worth stealing.

Yolas took her time going to the labs where she worked, a stark change from how she used to act. There was simply no need for urgency anymore, and there had not been for some time. She ambled through the halls of Site-19, before entering her lab and turning on the lights.

She was surrounded by walls of instruments and empty desks. Hers was at the center, alone with a collection of personal effects. She didn't just have the one, to be specific - her materials spread out from the center, often finding themselves on other tables in the surrounding area.

As she entered the lab, she collected the papers that had been printed overnight, with the latest set of reports. This was her first task of the day, to look for any abnormalities in the data. There were thousands of fields — Hume counts, temperatures, radiation, just about anything that had ever crossed come to mind as potentially important.

As always, none of it had deviated enough from the norm to be noteworthy for Yolas's purposes.

For her next task, she idly walked through the lab and made sure that all of the instruments were calibrated properly. They were. There was no reason they wouldn't be, or way that they couldn't have been.

She spent the rest of her day doing the minor tasks needed of her, but nothing important was necessary. Another uneventful day in Site-19.

July 9th

Once every other month, something would happen that would require the attention and intervention of a Mobile Task Force. In the past, there would be hundreds of Mission Control teams, working around the clock to monitor and assist the actions of every Mobile Task Force the Foundation would deploy.

Today, the number of such Mission Control teams was one, and it was a temporary job. Doctor Leslie Yolas was one of those people who would be called upon, since her normal monitoring mission did not truly need her working on it every day.

Today, a [something anomalous had happened, but it wasn't really]

July 16th

Yolas was paid well, for the most part, even now that her work wasn't truly necessary. She didn't do much on a daily basis, but her role was high and her skills were unparalleled. If anything related to her old field should happen again, Yolas would be the best choice possible to handle the situation. No one else would even come close.

Her salary was high, and she deserved all of it. Her position was not necessary in the grand scheme of the world, but it was a necessity to the continuing operation of the Foundation. The Foundation was a grand machine, and Yolas was an essential part. The fact the machine was not needed did not change the fact that she was necessary to the machine.

The irony, if anything, was that her role in the machine was to tell it that all was calm and right, that nothing was wrong with the world. She checked her instruments, made sure they were functioning as they should, and submitted the same report on a regular basis. To be fair, it wasn't the same report, exactly: only a report that hadn't changed in years, with no indication that it would ever be different.

The Foundation had been rich, a sprawling monolith of power and control for decades. It had fingers in many pies, many of which had nothing to do with the anomalous. The list of front agencies it had maintained was absurd, in all honesty. When the primary directive of the Foundation became obsolete, the decision from the Overseers was to keep the fronts active. It would be too suspicious if they all folded in on themselves, without any good reason.

Funny how that worked, isn't it? The Overseers gave the front agencies a stay of execution, but their positions did not last quite as long as the groups they kept active. Spicy Crust Pizza had outlasted O5-1.

And so the Foundation, despite it's drastically reduced scope and need for money, had remained influential, with billions to spare. All of the land they had acquired over the years, now without any meaning to keep, was sold for a reasonable price, and there were now plenty homeowners with no knowledge of the horrors that had lived in them before they did.

Monoliths, such as the Foundation, don't topple easily. The reason the monument had been erected was gone, but it would endure. The wheels would keep on turning, in the hopes they might be needed once more.

July 29th

blame the dog

August 2nd

meeting with the administrator

August 11th

Yolas wraps up for the day, and thinks

It had been a hot summer.

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