Per 
Debriefing between Archivist Paul Reynolds, and Dr. [redacted].
This is immediately following Reynolds breakdown when given fetch assignment F-32318.
Notable section is transcripted from 3'37" of the Video recording.
Begin transcription
Subject: "You spend enough time in the archives, you begin to pick up the instinct. You learn to walk silently on the concrete. To read faded labels without touching the box they're plastered on. You learn to memorize your path from the lift, mark your turns with glow-strip, and navigate the discrepancies between the two. You learn to not question little things, like the fact it takes twice as long to descend from floor 13 to 14 as from 14 to 15, or the red stain on the stairwell of floor 22. You keep your heart rate below 80 beats per minute on floor 19, and you always carry the current map for the north side of floor 12. You become comfortable with 8 hours below the surface, tracking down a set of files, never seeing another human for all that time. Some archivists start to whistle, to sing, to hold conversations with themselves. That's when you know they're starting to crack.
Because when you begin to talk to the archives, sometimes the archive talks back."
At this point the subject stops, and stares into space for a few seconds.
Researcher: "Could you explain that statement?"
Subject: "Explain what?"
Researcher: "You said the archive talks back, could you expand on that."
Subject: "Ohh, I see. Well, when you're below floor 23, you start to realize you are not alone. The lift only goes to floor 22, and below there we have the maze. The maps are wrong, there are walkways that haven't been used for years, and the objects date back to the origin of the Foundation.
Nobody orders a fetch from below the maze. The only things down there are what is better left forgotten.
Sometimes it's just a feeling, like your being watched, and every time you look around there's movement in the corner of your eye. Other times you'll see glowing points in the shadows off the path, and hear echoing footsteps when you switch on a new row of lights.
Occasionally, you end up back at the elevator, with 2 hours passed, and you don't remember walking back.
And every once in a while, when you're talking to yourself. You'll sneeze, and the voice will continue through it. That's when you suddenly realize the voice is not your own.
There's something down there, and it wants to get out."
