elbow used to be human. We didn't stay long enough to find out. 
Hanndock had found a keyring in the kitchen after we broke about 
half the locks with a hammer from the gardening shed. After the 
creature decided Terger wasn't tasty enough (I shot it, center mass), 
we relocked the remaining locks; we'll have to hope they're enough. 
The skin absorbed a lot of the impact, and we don't have the 
ammunition to kill the thing. We bound the wound; Terger seems as 
though he'll recover in a few days. A little longer to mend his ego. 


This house is dangerous, but we don't have anyplace else to go. 
We'll walk a few hours tomorrow, and turn around if we can't get a 
vantage point to see another destination. 


This is the second of the records documenting our attempts to 
return. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. Night two. One round expended. 
Seventy remain. 


Background noise continues for nearly two seconds before 
recording ends. 


3 


If the words "esoteric containment" mean nothing to you, stop 
listening. 


Time passes, approximately ten seconds. The sound of a large fire, 
perhaps, is audible. 


| was certain | remembered something about that creature. It 
matches a file a colleague had me read a few months ago, 
regarding a bottle of whiskey that turned drinkers into literal 
monsters. The insect may have been a... anomaly as well for all | 
know. But | know exactly what killed Alicia. | have no idea how three 
unrelated... objects... ended up in the same place. 


We saw a small town on our expedition, from the top of a hill. It was 
on the other side of a river, but that was surmountable. We crossed 


the river and followed it into town. Nobody was there. Too many 
houses for the cars here. Still here, | should say. There were some 
pretty deep-set oil stains in front of a few homes, but no vehicles to 
make them. 


It must have been a while since the... | can't say what they are. | 
don't know who will find this. I'm calling it the beach. The beach 
killed or drove off everyone who lived in this city. If you find this note, 
don't get close to the lake. The sands are alive and they will devour 
you before you realize your feet are in pieces. They took her apart, 
had her on stumps before she realized she was getting shorter. 


That's an exaggeration, but it was horrible to watch. When she tried 
to run, what was left of her feet splintered and she fell. She didn't 
scream long. We found a car with keys inside not too far from the 
lake; | spotted the keychain gleaming while we were running. | think 
we could have gotten away without the car, but it helped. 


There's a roadmap; glove compartment. It's not in a language any of 
us speak, though it was dogeared on a specific page. The road 
layout fits the town, and the river; we're going to get some gas and 
find the next nearest town. 


The clouds haven't lifted since we got here. Not for a minute. | hope 
that's just how things are here- the last thing we need is anomalous 
weather. 


This is the third of the records documenting our attempts to return. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. Night three. One magazine and 
sidearm lost. Fifty eight rounds remain. Got food from a grocery 
store. Looking for a gun shop next. 


Background noise continues for nearly two seconds before 
recording ends. 


4 


The recording starts, but there is a pause- perhaps three seconds- 


before Piedmont speaks. The only background sound is two 
uncoordinated sets of breathing. 


If the words "esoteric containment" mean nothing to you... stop 
listening. 


Time passes, approximately ten seconds. A third set of breathing 
joins the noise, much closer to the source of the recording. 


Terger had to subdue Hanndock after we found the mirror. | don't 
know how it could have broken containment. There was only one, 
and we had it. The insect, the creature, the beach... could be 
explained. There's only one mirror. It can't be here, or else we're not 
where | thought we were. I'll talk to Terger alone from now on when 
discussing my theories. Hanndock isn't stable enough to take it. 


We encountered the mirror on a stand in the pawn shop we broke 
into. We made it to the next town, but it's as empty as the first. 
We've found a few bodies, but they're all accidental. Nothing 
particularly alarming. The mirror, though, has us all on edge. Had. 
We put it face down behind the counter. But not before it told us 
what was happening. 


We can't trust what it said. It'd have said anything to keep us from 
leaving. Terger almost stayed, but he followed my lead, thank god. 
Hanndock just... didn't understand. He must have never read the 
file. It screamed so loudly. | hope nothing's here to hear it. 


It can't be here, but it is. We aren't home. We're someplace else. 
We'll find a way back. This many objects in one place? There has to 
be more. 


| hope we don't find the wrong ones. 


This is the fourth of the records documenting our attempts to return. 
The first since Connors’ death. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. Night four. One revolver, one rifle, one 
shotgun found, all loaded. No ammo besides. Seventy four rounds 
remain. 


Background noise continues for nearly two seconds before 


recording ends. 


ro) 


If the words "esoteric containment" mean nothing to you, stop 
listening. 


Time passes, about ten seconds. The sound of calm conversation is 
in the background, two male voices. There is also the faint sound of 
rustling metal. 


We aren't in Peru. They shouldn't be here. As far as anomalies go, 
though, grasshoppers aren't all that horrible. The accidents- we 
found dozens more before we made it to the store- make sense 
now. I'm glad we picked a grocery store to make camp; we'll be able 
to wait them out. Terger was the only one to see them, and he's 
restrained- not that it was hard to talk him into handcuffing himself to 
the door of the storeroom freezer after what he saw. Hanndock and | 
have been keeping him fed and taking him to the restroom when he 
needs to go, keeping our backs towards the windowed storefront. 
We took away his gun for the time being, obviously. 


At least he told us what he was seeing before we looked. We'll be 
alright. 


Another anomaly. We need to figure out what's going on before we 
run into something seriously dangerous again. There's too many 
objects to prepare for them all. 


This is the fifth of the records documenting our attempts to return. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. Night five. Seventy four rounds 
remain. We'll be here a while. 


Background noise continues for nearly two seconds before 
recording ends. 


6 


If the words "esoteric containment" don't mean anything to you, stop 
listening. 


Time passes, about ten seconds. Two sets of breathing, one 
matching that of a sleeping human, are audible in the background. 


We lucked out. Again. Hanndock might have had some trouble with 
it if he'd been the first exposed, but it caught Terger at the tail end of 
the locust exposure. He didn't bat an eye. It's been disconcerting to 
have around, but we've been adjusting. Terger's proven resistant to 
its form of "attack," and it's taken to mimicking him. It bothers 
Hanndock most. The surprise gets to me, but | don't have any 
trouble with its secondary disturbances, at least. | think it might be 
amusing itself- forgive me the pun, but I'm glad of the irony that it 
lacks a "black" sense of humor. Who knows- maybe it will prove 
helpful in the end. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. This is still the fifth night. Sixth of our 
records. Seventy three rounds after initial reactions. 


Hanndock deserved the cuff to the head. I'm going to get Terger a 
beer. 


The sleeping breathing continues; the other chuckles under his 
breath, presumably Terger. Piedmont joins in; recording terminates 
after approximately one more second. 


7 


If the words "esoteric containment" mean nothing to you, stop 
listening. 


Time passes, approximately ten seconds. The sound of a motor is 
audible in the background. 


We almost went into that house. The mother's slip-up, though- 
Hanndock's the one that caught the significance. Terger assumed 
she'd miscounted; | thought she'd included the statue (it didn't leave 


hearing noises? 


Mr. Wright: Not at first. That's the thing, it was so damn quiet, 
everyone kinda forgot about it for a while. Allen was keeping it in an 
old storeroom by the dock, and nobody really went out there much. 
He started looking bad. Said he couldn't sleep, that he kept hearing 
that thing grind away. Father Pat started dropping by, tried to talk to 
him, told him to get rid of it. He was gone for a couple days, then 
suddenly the two of them turn up together, happy as clams... 
(subject trails off, shaking slightly) 


Dr. Gears: ...Mr. Wright? 


Mr. Wright: (subject rubs face, and shakes head) I'm fine, sorry. So 
Father Pat and old Allen show up, fresh as daisies. Say they've got 
the thing figured out. | wasn't paying that much attention, this whole 
thing had me spooked. Been hearing stuff from the store room... 
grinding and squealing, really quiet. Anyway, they said some damn 
thing about it being from somewhere else... that God made it. That 
was it for me, and | left. 


Dr. Gears: Did you believe them? 


Mr. Wright: What, that it was from God? No, no... | don't know... | 
didn't really know what to think. This damn machine kept spinning 
away, no power to it, and eating metal too! That pole Ms. Parker hit 
it with? It turned into a giant screw shaft, looked like it had always 
been there. More people started getting interested, started listening 
to Allen and Father Pat. Told everyone to bring metal to it. Told them 
the gears were the voice of God, that it grew louder as we turned 
away, and softer as we brought it offerings. 


Dr. Gears: Did you bring metal to it as well, or spend any extended 
period of time near the object? 


Mr. Wright: (subject is silent for several seconds) ...The hell does 
that matter? You could hear this thing all over town, got to be folks 
couldn't even sleep! Just clanking, grinding, screaming at all hours 
of the night... giving it metal helped. God damn it, | didn't want to, | 
know it wasn't God, | never said it was! Everyone else was falling 
over themselves to make Allen and Father Pat happy, | just wanted 


with us- must have transferred to someone in the house). Hanndock, 
though, he'd been on edge since the statue started following us. 
Borderline paranoia, but it paid off. 


| thought | was keeping an eye out. If we'd gone into that house... 
ten percent chance to escape infection. The distances on the map 
would have meant nothing after that. | owe Hanndock an apology. 
He's not suited for permanent field work, but he's a quick thinker and 
well-read. 


Terger identified a city with a sector in the industrial district nearby. 
He trained there, he says. The cloud cover is finally breaking up a 
little, but it's far from a clear sky. Nice to see the stars, now and 
then. 


Five days to- 


Can't say. | mentioned there's a sector there. But five days and 
maybe we'll get some answers. 


This is the seventh of the records documenting our attempts to 
return. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. Night six. Seventy four rounds still 
remain. 


Background noise continues for nearly two seconds before 
recording ends. 


8 


If the words "esoteric containment" mean nothing to you, stop 
listening. 


Time passes, about ten seconds. Assorted sounds consitent with 
the cleaning of a civilian-grade hunting rifle are audible in the 
background. 


If we return, | will write a personal letter of thanks to the founder of 


the Foundation. | don't care that they won't get it. These things are- 
There is a brief pause, then a short burst of nervous laughter. 


These things are "redacted." You can choose your expletive of 
choice; whatever idiot savant type green created that godforsaken 
cloudfish needs to get a visit from Alto Clef. | don't know whether to 
be thankful that the first time Terger looked up was through the 
sunroof of our jeep or curse the decision to take on extra gear and 
store some on the roof. | hope the damned thing chokes on the 
shotgun. Everything else is replaceable, but we're probably going to 
be stuck with the sidearms and the eight shots in the rifle at least 
until we make the city, and after that bloody cloud... 


Four days. This is the eighth of the records documenting our 
attempts to return. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. Night seven. Shotgun lost. Seventy 
two rounds remain. 


Brief, humorless grunt of laughter. 
Plenty of food, though. 


Background noise continues for nearly two seconds before 
recording ends. 


9 


If the words "esoteric containment" mean nothing to you, stop 
listening. 


Time passes, about ten seconds. The soft sound of the surf is 
audible, not quite close to the microphone. It sounds like it's 
crashing against rocks, as opposed to onto sand. 


We can put a rough date on the incursion. That's what I'm calling 
them now, the arrival of the anomalies. I've been studying the map 
we found, and we seem to be in the Atlantic Archipelago. That's the 


U. K., if you're unfamiliar with the term. | thought the driving time 
was unrealistic, but Terger was right- while we could drive from 
where we started near... 


Damn it all to hell, | can't even speak openly. We're going to a city 
on the other end of the country, and we can't drive straight there 
because we have to keep stopping and hunting for gas stations that 
still have gas to siphon off. So we have to keep detouring through 
this godawful abandoned world- 


At least they tried to abandon it. We found out where most of the 
people ended up. The ones the anomalies inland didn't get. We 
stopped at a coastal city, the highway took us there. Roads aren't 
too crowded, thankfully. But the cliffs, and beaches and... 


There are boats everywhere. Smashed against cliffs; the few that 
made it ashore safely were abandoned to the surf. Thank god it's 
late winter- not mating season, or we'd probably have been dead 
just being close enough to see those beaches. Drowning, though... 
better than Connors got. 


My theory is it all happened at once. Anomalies arrived, probably 
decimated the population. Panic ensued, mass exodus failed; they 
must have ran out of boats eventually. And considering the nature of 
some of the more volatile anomalies, it can't have taken long to 
reduce the standing population to six, seven percent. The smart 
ones. We won't see them. They'll be too smart to approach us or 
attack us. They've probably got a good idea of when it's safe to 
move around, and a car in a silent world is a pretty loud 
announcement of our approach. 


... Three days. 
This is the ninth of the records documenting our attempts to return. 


Doctor Piedmont, signing off. Night eight. Seventy two rounds 
remain. 


Background noise continues for nearly two seconds before 
recording ends. 


10 


If the words "esoteric containment" mean nothing to you, stop 
listening. 


Time passes, about ten seconds. Two sets of quiet breathing 
consistent with those heard in previous recordings are audible in the 
background, as is a repetitive tapping, like that of a foot. 


We are no longer travelling after dark. When we find a place to 
secure for the night, it must be cleared by nightfall or we're just 
sleeping in the car.