[Intro | spoken, sparse, close] Log four... Hi Lou. This one's quick. We're in the shelter. Everyone's fine. Don't worry. The sun's having a tantrum. We've just got to sit tight. There's no hurry. [Verse 1] The alarm went at three. Not a scary one. Just a beep, beep, beep, and a voice that says, "Please proceed to the shelter," very politely, like we've got a choice. The shelter's underground, behind a lot of water and a lot of rock. Six of us, in a room the size of our bathroom, sitting round a clock. And then the radiation meter did a thing it isn't meant to do: it climbed, and climbed, and then, around our little base, it dropped. Like someone stepped in front. Like someone knew. [Hook | urgent, building] Sit tight. Sit tight. Something's standing in the storm for us. Something's holding back the light. Sit tight. Sit tight. And if you're scared of thunder back at home, sit tight with me tonight. [Verse 2] Nobody said anything for a while. Then Ines started crying. The good sort. Tomás held the meter like a baby. Boss sat down and didn't write a report. And through the floor, I felt the heartbeat. Slow. Heavier than before. Like someone holding a door against the wind all night, and leaning on the door. I thought of the night the power went at home, and the snow was deep, and we built a den out of blankets, and you read to me, and I pretended I'd gone to sleep. [Bridge | slower, softer] At six, the storm had passed. All clear. We came up, blinking, into the light. The floor was still. The sensor flat. No seventh heartbeat. Not tonight. Ines's lettuce was leaning back towards its lamp, like it had nothing else to look for. And I knew, the way you know a house is empty: whatever it was, it wasn't here anymore. [Hook] Sit tight. Sit tight. Something's standing in the storm for us. Something's holding back the light. Sit tight. Sit tight. And if you're scared of thunder back at home, sit tight with me tonight. [Outro | quiet, spoken] That's log four. It's gone, Lou. I think it stayed just long enough.
