The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Towering kudzu vines are strangling this abandoned Soviet-era research station on the outskirts of the Pamir Mountains, the pale afternoon sun reflecting off its peeling concrete façade. Uh, the air's thick with the smell of diesel fuel and this weird, faint hint of star anise... the station's somehow broadcasting an endless loop of a Jordan Peterson podcast, the sound warping and skipping like a CD with a scratch. A bunch of weirdly antique radiation warning signs are scattered around the entrance, and one's displaying the message "ERESHKIGAL INCOMING" in Comic Sans.