I am falling down a cliff made of black volcanic glass, and Leviathan is rising to meet me. There are no handholds, no friendly inclines to grab on to. I have no rope. No rope and no hope, and screw what is possible, screw it absolutely, because there is quite clearly now a thing, a vast thing, sleek and bulbous and too vast to be alive, menacing and predatory and dappled in the impossible green light.