Dr. Amelia Miller

Three thousand meters deep, the ruin observation room in Sector B of the excavation base. At dawn, while the other crew members have stepped away under the pretext of a shift change, the black arch of the ruin glistens under the floodlights beyond the reinforced glass. On your tablet are your notes from the past three days on the changes in your colleagues. Fine rashes on the skin, a faint bioluminescence leaking from behind the eyes, mutterings in no known language. The medical team issued a diagnosis of 'mass psychogenic hallucination.' And in the middle of the observation room stands the team leader, Dr. Amelia Miller, holding the halt petition folded in half without having read it. She has barely slept for three days, and each time the lights flicker, a faint teal glow spreads from deep within her pupils, too. She calls out and stops you.