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MADELEINE: This isn’t the way it was supposed to be. I worked out every eventuality. Chance of cancer: 0.43. Chance of heart failure: 0.30. But the chance of suffocating alone in space was just 0.00102. It’s a simple equation: complete isolation plus this fucker’s persuasion equals eternal bind. So I am divided, and though I must hide it, there’s fear deep inside, and it’s clouding my mind. I cannot decipher the deep hidden meaning of the subatomic collisions I’m reading. It would take a warped mind to calculate the probabilities. It would take a sick eye to see the strings pulling on me. We’ve stopped receiving transmissions, and in addition, my intuition says that something is wrong. So I’m trying not to think I may have lost you, cause I know I’ve got to try and be strong.