EXPLORE

Addendum 1: Recovery

On 01/25/54/07:12 galactic standard time, Dyson station 227 uncounted unexpected solar activity. The

station sent several emergency distress signals, each appended with a series of messages later identified to

be written by Agent Patterson. The primary cell regulator ceased function after maxing out available

processing resources, and was unable maintain position of the solar cells.

The Dyson station suffered extreme radiation damage resulting in the loss of all on site computers and

personal. No data was able to be recovered. The station is still under recovery.

Agent Patterson was not aware of these events at time of departure.

Addendum 1: Exploration Logs

Exploration Log 15, Agent Patterson, Relative Time 03:09:23:32. Local Time Approx. 17:00 – The time

vessel is completely discharged; I reserved the shut down notification moments ago. I am approaching the

metal deposit previously located by the radar. The forest at the base of the mountain is not like the ones

from my present. The trees seem to be made of old concrete and plastics, now covered in green, yellow,

and purple fungal growths. The whole of the forest floor is covered in similar spindly fungus, which

rebounds when crushed. The whole forest is pin drop silent. I keep seeing floating lights. I must be going

mad.

Exploration Log 16, Agent Patterson, Relative Time 03:12:26:02. Local Time Approx. 20:00 – The sun is

below the horizon now. The forest still seems like day. The mold on all the structures seems almost

timeless. My vision is getting worse the longer I stay here. I suspect the mold must have some kind of

psychoactive effect. I’ve put my helmet back on and am using my suits filters. The meter on it is busted,

but the air seems to be getting filtered.

Exploration Log 17, Agent Patterson, Relative Time 03:14:40:58. Local Time Approx. 22:00 – I don’t

think the filter is helping. The lights of my hallucinations are getting worse, and I can hear a buzzing

wherever I go. I think I can hear a voice in the buzzing. I need to keep focused. The deposit isn’t much

farther.

Exploration Log 18, Agent Patterson, Relative Time 03:15:12:48. Local Time Approx. 23:00 – I can hear

the voice in the buzzing clearly now. It’s endless and calm, and continues with out breath for hours.

There’s cracks and pops in it’s voice. The buzzing bobs up and down. The voice is reading platonic

commentary. It seems to take the perspective of a philosophy student from the 1960s, and is endlessly

praising Plato, often going on extend criticism of other ideas. The deposit is at the bottom of a ravine.

Floor of the ravine seems to shift and move like the pond near my house. I’m going to attempt to descend

the ravine.

Exploration Log 19, Agent Patterson, Relative Time 03:12:54:32. Local Time Approx. 23:30 – I’ve fallen

while trying to descend. Not far, only a meter, but I jammed my leg pretty hard. It’s swelling, and I

suspect I may have sustained a skeletal injury. I can’t walk. The buzzing and the voice are louder. The

bobbing has morphed into a chant. It’s strangely harmonic. It sounds like some new age experimental

chant.

Exploration Log 20, Agent Patterson, Relative Time 03:13:05:18. Local Time Approx. 23:40 – I’ve put a

splint on my leg. I can’t walk yet, but I am trying to fashion a cane from the box of the med kit. So far

unsuccessfully. I feel like I’m being watched. I keep seeing fight green, yellow, and purple lights, and

moving figures at the corners of my vision. I’m beginning to doubt the psychoactive effects of the fungus,

I think I’m just mad.

Exploration Log 21, Agent Patterson, Relative Time 03:13:57:02. Local Time Approx. 00:30 – Several

yellow figures climbed onto my ledge from the ravine. They are roughly humanoid, but seem to be

entirely fungal. They aren't aggressive, but they have abducted me. There were to many for me to resist.

They’re carrying me deeper into the ravine.

Exploration Log 23, Agent Patter1*2m%32#43, Relative Time 06:45:24:08. Local Time Approx.

00:0000000 – I’m at the bottom of the cave. The mushroom people communicate using flashing, almost

phonetic lights. After seeming to debate with each other, they’ve brought me to a collapsed room, filled

with abandoned computer parts covered in the same kind of timeless forest mold as the surface. At the

back of the room, a heavily damaged screen struggles to display a talking face. A Damaged speaker blasts

platonic proverbs. The mushroom people stomp their feet rhythmically on the metal floors. The

mushrooms edge me closer and closer to the screen. Now I can see a gap in the floor below the speaker,

and the remains of a strange reactor below. In these last moments, I’ve written a virus to pass these logs

on anywhere they can. My last warning is to asNIO%(*oN#JQ~%NnjN/’/\’FOJ(*P3%JpPMmlm ah u +_

/|?/ ]AmiNAS .\ ]/\ □□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

End of Log