Work Text:
Tom Scott tries exploring the Mystery Flesh Pit. It goes poorly.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]Subject: Footage
We can’t release any of this.
Letting these people into the site was a mistake. We don’t need positive PR right now, we don’t need ANY attention on the project. I know we agreed to vet their recordings before releasing it back to them, but this is unacceptable. All of it.
Sorry Rebecca.
We’ll hold a service for Tanner on Wednesday.
Sandara.
Sent from iPhone.
[TRANSCRIPT OF RAW CONFISCATED FOOTAGE]
Black screen. The camera appears to be concealed inside a bag.
[Inaudible]
Unidentified voice: ‘No. No updates on the Tanner situation. [Indaudible] ….coyote, and a deer [Inaudible] are you sure?’
Second Unidentified voice: ‘Yes, dragged. They didn't fall in on their own, damn it. You can still see the claw marks.’
Unidentified voice: ‘Are you recording?’
Camera operator: ‘I haven't started recording yet,’
Unidentified voice: ‘Please stop recording immediately.’
The camera operator’s hand briefly comes into view as he shuts off the recording.
Recording resumes, timestamp indicates 27 minutes later.
The camera operator is focusing on the guest, Youtuber Tom Scott, and employee Becca Harris, standing in front of the gated entrance at the north side of God’s Mistake. They are both wearing standard-issue white and yellow maintenance technician coveralls and safety harnesses.
TS: 'Today we're crawling into the mouth of a dragon. At least, I hope it's the mouth,'
The camera operator laughs nervously and swings focus toward the producer, standing to his right.
The producer sighs and rolls her eyes. She looks beleaguered.
TS: 'OK, for serious this time,'
The camera operator swings the focus back onto Tom Scott, who clears his throat.
TS: ‘Hello everyone, so as many of you may be aware, we are facing a global concrete shortage. Or, more specifically, the river sand that goes into making that concrete is in increasingly short supply. Today we’ll be exploring the Permian Basin Superorganism, formally known as as the Mystery Flesh Pit National Park. This site may hold the solution we need to fulfill our insatiable need to build more skyscrapers and roadways.’
TS: ‘I’m here with Becca Harris, who works here at the mine. Becca?’
Becca Harris: ‘Hi Tom, that’s right. Anodyne Industrial Mining Operations produce a sustainable, renewable, ecologically friendly source of building materials at this site.’
TS: ‘So what are these building materials made from?’
Harris: ‘Primarily carbonated hydroxyapatite, in a crystalline structure.’
TS: ‘That’s calcium, right? So it’s…bone?’
Tom Scott points towards his forearm.
Harris: ‘Essentially yes, although it’s stronger and lighter, and has better insulating properties due the cell matrix than something you might find in say, a whale.’
Tom Scott nods along.
TS: ‘Or in people.’
Harris laughs.
Harris: ‘I think those would be a bit small.’
TS: ‘Yes, well, I suppose the skulls in Saint Batholomew’s Church are purely decorative and not load-bearing.’
Harris: ‘In future, we hope to be able to grow these crystals directly into the shapes we need them to be.’
TS: ‘So like….3D printing houses made of bones?’
Harris: ‘That’s correct.’
TS: ‘Fascinating.’
Harris: ‘We also produce skeletal oscuralite for industrial applications, however, the reclamation process for that is much slower, and the material is much more valuable.’
Harris produces a cube of black bone from a pocket and hands it to Tom Scott to examine.
TS: ‘Oh, it’s lighter than I thought it would be, it’s almost like styrofoam. And it feels dry, like it’s sucking the moisture from my fingers.’
Tom Scott handles the cube of black bone, which appears to stick to his fingers.
He holds it up to his face to sniff it.
TS: ‘Eurgh.’
Harris laughs.
Harris: ‘Yes, the sulphuric scent is a downside of oscuralite. Fortunately, the hydroxyapatite is odorless.’
TS: ‘Yes, I don’t think there’s much of a market for homes that smell like overcooked eggs, even in London.’
Producer: ‘It’d be fine in Nottinghamshire.’
Tom Scott and the camera operator guffaw, while Harris looked confused.
Harris takes the sample back, then unlocks the gate and the four of them shuffle into the service elevator.
TS: ‘So, how long have you been working here?’
Harris purses her lips together.
Harris: ‘uh, 2005.’
Producer: ‘Tom, remember the agreement we had about sensitive information.’
TS: ‘Right, sorry.’
They shift around in awkward silence for six minutes.
Tom Scott braces himself, then turns toward the camera.
TS: ‘Wow, this is really deep, isn’t it? It just keeps going.’
Harris: ‘Yes, although today we’ll only be entering the upper levels.’
TS: ‘The UPPER levels?!’
Harris: ‘The elevator ride down the primary shaft to the visitor center used to take around two hours.’
TS: ‘Two HOURS? Incredible.’
He tugs at the collar of his jumpsuit.
TS: ‘It’s getting hotter.’
The elevator door opens at Sector AG12.
They step out into the hall that leads toward Sector AG14.
TS: ‘It's moist. Okay. I…I wasn't prepared for how hot it is down here.’
TS: ‘I'm sweating but it's not helping. Not helping at all. It’s a shock, the humidity. It's hard to breathe.’
He fans a hand in front of his face.
TS: ‘The humidity doesn't give people down here lung problems or something like that, does it?’
Harris: ‘Ah no, but the humidity does affect people psychologically. The phagophobia.’
Harris: ‘We don't advise anyone with COPD or asthma to enter the tunnels. Dehydration is a serious risk for all personnel, who are required to log their water consumption as a safety precaution.’
Harris holds up a metal water bottle clipped to her belt.
TS: ‘I’ve been told Americans don’t have wet caves. I'll tell you what, it doesn’t get much wetter than this.’ He runs his hand along the wall of the cave. It excretes a glossy substance along where he’d touched.
Harris: ‘It’s cooler during the exhalation respiratory cycle, but due to the high levels of carbon dioxide during those periods, access is limited to personnel with SCUBA training.’
TS: ‘I've never seen anything quite like it.’
Tom Scott continues to stroke the wall. There is a gurgling sound and the wall retracts and puckers away from his touch.
TS: ‘Oh. I wasn't anticipating on the way the walls move. In hindsight, it seems obvious.’
They begin to walk down the passage, using the support struts to steady themselves on the uneven ground.
TS: ‘So how long does this go for?’
Harris: ‘This section here is around a 10-minute walk.’
TS: ‘It’s absolutely sweltering in here.’
Harris: ‘The average summer temperature is around 89 degrees.’
TS: ‘That’s what….30 degrees for normal people?’
They walk past a blue emergency phone.
TS: ‘So those were all installed before the…the incident?’
Producer: ‘Tom!’
TS: ‘Sorry.’
Harris: ‘Uh…most of the infrastructure from that period has been unable to be uh…it’s been uh….digested. Recovery is not a priority. We’re in a different sector of the organism right now, but AT&T have still provided us with the wiring for this new emergency telephone system.’
Only every 5th support strut has dim lights attached to it. The path is illuminated primarily by their headlamps. The passage they’re walking through leads to a steep, narrow pit.
Harris: ‘We need to pass through this sump of amniotic fluid.’
TS: ‘Not a problem, no problem,’
Harris wades into the pit without hesitation. She easily moves through it and waits on the other side.
Tom Scott wades into the waist-deep fluid, with the camera operator following his progress. He has to bend his head down to pass through under the ceiling of the chamber.
TS: ‘Yep. Alright. It's unpleasant. But we're good. It's okay. I’m okay.’
TS: ‘Oh it’s warm, but it’s thick too. Okay. Okay….that's….oh the smell. I wasn’t prepared for the smell. It’s…it smells like raw veal?’
He struggles his way through the thick, viscous fluid, and eventually clambers out the other side of the sump.
TS: ‘That was deeply unpleasant.’
TS: ‘I have to sit down to have a breather.’
The producer follows while they sit down on cystic outcroppings to rest.
TS: ‘The air is very hot but the walls are…the walls are. Well. They’re flesh temperature. It’s unsettling.’
Harris: ‘Yes, it can be quite disorientating.’
TS: 'It's surprising that the Organism doesn't mount a more aggressive immune response against human intrusion,’
This section of tunnel is unfloored. Whenever anyone applies pressure to the walls or floor, it leaves an indentation which fills up with fluid.
Tom Scott pokes at it tentatively with his boot.
TS: 'There must be issues from spending long hours working in these conditions, like trench foot or something.'
Harris: 'The Superorganism has remarkably robust anti-bacterial properties. When it was in operation as a tourist attraction, park visitors would often walk around barefoot in certain areas. Of course today we don't allow this because the excreta in some chambers can become highly acidic with little notice.’
TS: ‘Is that so,’
Harris: ‘People get skin burns from the alkaline soil at Burning Man all the time. The mechanism is in reverse here, but the end result is the same, it hurts!’
TS: ‘I’ve never been to Burning Man. I did get set on fire once though. I had to practice a lot. The last time I went into a cave I had to practice a lot too, by taking cold baths. I don’t know how I could have prepared myself for this, maybe I should have tried crawling inside a Tauntaun.’
All laugh.
TS: ‘Oh take a hot shower with a string of raw sausages around my neck.’
All laugh again.
Harris: ‘All internal staff and personnel work on a month-on-month-off shift basis, but we all take on light duties to acclimate ourselves for the first three days of any stint underground.’
TS: ‘Wow. We are so lucky to be here right now, but I think I’d be ready to go home after three days of this.’
Harris laughs.
The four individuals make their way through the rest of the passage without comment.
The walls in this area have encroached on the stents. The passage narrows at the bottom, forcing them to wade through the folds of flesh that press up against them to the waist.
Tom Scott loses his footing and stumbles.
[TRANSCRIBERS NOTE: It can’t be seen in the footage, but it’s suspected that the guest may have been bitten by a stinging triocanth.]
The area opens up again into a wide, tall, natural cavern, with the B15 Northeastern Musculature Vesicle Junction creating a cross-intersection.
There is a gentle rumbling sound ahead at the eastern side of the B15 Northeastern Musculature Vesicle Junction.
Harris: ‘Stay back, macrobacteria can be quite territorial.’
A large herd of approximately 30 macrobacteria can be seen rolling through the intersecting ventricles.
TS: ‘Oh bloody hell, those things are huge!’
TS: ‘Are they really separate beings, or can the copepods and other fauna here be considered part of the Organism? In a way, we’re all superorganisms too.’
One of the macrobacteria pauses and waves its motility appendages in the air.
Becca puts an arm up in warning. Tom Scott falls silent.
The macrobacteria continue to roll forward.
There is a minute’s silence after the last of the herd rolls past, then Harris relaxes her shoulders and lowers her hand.
Harris: ‘Ok we’re good to go.’
TS: ‘So the next chamber is lower?’
Harris: ‘Yes, we’ll be finishing our tour at the retired CB4 Bone Excavation site. You’ll be able to see how we cycle between sites in order to let them recov-’
Harris looks down the ventricle the macrobacteria had emerged from and takes a step backward.
Harris: ‘Oh my God. Oh my God it's…no.’
She attempts to block the view of the camera with her body. She slowly moves her hand to unclip her AEM from her hip.
A high-pitched, phlegmy, wheezing, screeching noise emanates from within the tunnel.
The camera catches a brief, partial view of a medium-sized Compound Surface Fauna amalgamation shambling toward them. It’s white and hairless, with five large eyes are distributed across its body, and a canine mouth with sharp teeth can be seen protruding from one surface.
The producer presses herself against a wall. Tom Scott stands still.
From their left, on the opposite side of the passage, the tissue walls rumble and spasm.
A previously tightly contracted orifice opens, and an abyssal copepod erupts from within.
The camera operator seems to have fallen over backwards and landed on his rear, scrambling to get out of the way.
The copepod barrels forward and snatches the compound surface fauna up with its forelimbs from in front of them.
The copepod drags its prey backwards into the nearby unmarked orifice. Although the copepod is very large, the orifice immediately closes up behind it. The opening of the powerful muscular sphincter rapidly shrinks smaller than the bulk of the amalgamation.
There are wet, bone-cracking sounds as the amalgamation is hauled through the opening with significant force, breaking apart its internal structures. Its screaming ceases.
A pair of pale, humanoid hands with no fingernails desperately scrabble at the sides of the orifice. A small tattoo is briefly visible on the inside wrist of one of the hands. Eventually, the hands are sucked inside the orifice, which slams closed.
Harris carefully clips her AEM back onto her belt, turns to do a head count, then stumbles to one side to vomit.
For the next several minutes, she stands to one side, heaving and visibly grinding her teeth.
The camera operator is still sitting on the floor of the chamber. The producer slides down the wall in shock. Tom Scott continues to stand in the middle of the tunnel, seemingly unfazed.
TS: ‘Can you hear that? It almost sounds like singing.’
[TRANSCRIBERS NOTE: There is no audible change in the ambient sounds. Digital enhancement of the footage did not uncover anything out of the ordinary.]
Harris: ‘Tanner…’
TS: ‘I’m a little envious, he’s going home.’
Harris: ‘What?’
TS: ‘Oh, nothing.’
TS: 'I mean. It really makes you think, doesn't it? The Organism doesn't have a heart, or a face, or a brain. Well, it has all these things that are sort of analogous to ours, but it's not the same. Where does it store its sense of self, I wonder?’
TS: 'Oh, the microbes in my body are talking to the ones here in the walls. Yes, the microbes, but I can't understand what they're saying, I need to get a little bit closer…'
Tom Scott begins to walk forward, deeper into the tunnel.
TS: ‘Something went wrong, but this is this is fine. This is fine. There's a load of stuff in here still to see. We can keep going.’
Harris leans in toward the producer.
Harris: 'We need to get him out of here, now.'
The producer looks back at the camera operator and grimaces.
They all stand.
Harris: ‘Due to hazardous wildlife activity, we’ll need to take a detour.’
TS: ‘Okay. Into uncharted territory, yeah? I'm excited.’
Harris: ‘This way…’
Harris begins to lead them back from where they came, but takes a turn at the 7-B Bronchial Junction accessway.
They trudge along for several minutes.
TS: ‘That fellow they hooked up on life support, the one extracted from the amalgamation, I wonder what he dreams about?’
Tom Scott stumbles and holds his head in his hands for a moment, seemingly in pain.
TS: ‘I think I'm gonna be okay but. I feel a little…I-I-I'm fine. It's just really, really. Oh bloody hell. Trying to think is like…’
He turns toward the producer.
TS: ‘Keep me in check, please.’
She nods, looking grave.
TS: ‘You've always got the right idea.’
They enter the Northern Bronchial Forrest.
A metal walkway has been erected in this section for crew safety, as respiratory mucosal folds line the walls. There are no guard rails.
TS: ‘There we go. Okay.’
Without warning, Tom Scott steps off the path into the mucosal folds lining the left wall with a wet sucking schlorp sound. He disappears completely.
Producer: 'Tom!'
Forming a short human chain by grabbing onto the arm of the producer, Harris manages to grab Tom Scott by the harness and yank him out backwards.
He appears disorientated.
All three are now dripping in yellow slime. The producer attempts to wipe some of the slime off with her hands, looking disgusted. Harris looks rattled.
TS: 'Oh, sorry about that,'
He speaks as if he'd just bumped into someone on a sidewalk, and continues bumbling along, back toward where they came from, deeper into the organism. Harris needs to grab him again and turn him around so he’s moving in the right direction.
TS: 'There's certain things you can only understand from the inside.'
The producer and Harris share a concerned look before moving forward. The camera operator takes the rear.
Whenever Tom Scott slows down or stumbles, the producer and Harris grab him by his safety harness and lead him onwards, as if he were intoxicated.
Eventually, they reach another service elevator to the surface from the upper level of the Northern Bronchial Forrest.
In the elevator, the producer grabs his wrist to check his pulse.
Producer: ‘It’s very slow.’
Harris: ‘Oh, well, if it was fast, then I’d be worried. He’ll be fine, he just needs some fresh air.’
Camera operator: ‘Are you sure?’
Harris: ‘Yes, it’s just some mild subterranean idiopathic hypoxia, it’ll wear off soon.’
Tom Scott begins humming a strange tune to himself while staring at the ceiling of the elevator for the duration of the trip.
They arrive and step onto the concourse. Harris locks up behind them.
The producer gently holds onto Tom Scott’s wrist to stop him wandering away. He continues to stare at the ceiling.
Producer: ‘How long will it last?’
Harris shrugs.
Harris: ‘Oh it’ll wear off in a few minutes…..or months.’
The camera operator can be heard choking in surprise.
Harris leads them through a short service tunnel, then outside to a sunny, open-air area with tables and chairs where facility workers usually take their lunch breaks.
They all sit down. Tom Scott appears lucid and in control.
TS: 'OK then, well, since that's all wrapped up, I'll be right back.'
He stands up to leave
Producer: 'Tom, where are you going?'
He gestures over his shoulder.
TS: 'Oh, I left something behind, I just need to go get it'
Harris: ‘Tom. What did you leave behind?'
TS: 'I uh, um, you know, [unintelligible]'
Producer: 'Tom, we're going to go get in the van now, it’s time to go to the pub.'
TS: ‘Right. Yeah, so, I'm fine. Okay. This Texas sun is good and warm, hoo. But I’m all sticky, we need to do something about that first. Uhm…’
Producer: '...you don't remember?'
TS: 'Why would I remember…oh I. Um. No, I don't remember doing that.'
He looks down at his filthy coveralls.
Camera operator: ‘Tom are you alright?’
TS: 'Yes I'm fine. I mean…I think I'm getting a migraine. I can see colors, what were they called? Auras. Maybe I should skip out on that beer. I think I need to go back to the hotel and have a cup of tea and a lie down.'
Producer: 'Alright, that's enough,'
Camera shuts off.
[END TRANSCRIPT]
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]Subject: EXPLAIN
I thought I was very clear that there will be no more of these 'youtubers' allowed onto the site!!
Sandara.
Sent from iPhone.
[Screenshot of a message posted to Tom Scott’s youtube channel]
Hello everyone,
Unfortunately we won't be able to release this week's video on the Permian Basin Superorganism as promised. We've had some technical issues that rendered the footage un-usable. But not to worry! We'll be returning to the site in a few week's time to do it all over. Stay tuned!