Narrator M: Merlin is alone. [A heavy, unfamiliar ambience.] He is perched atop a mountain of insane garbage. 

Narrator S: The Biological Man’s voice emanates from his chest, with Cleo sob-squealing in the background. 

M: (Biological Man) “What happened? What happened, Merlin? Are you okay?”

(Merlin) “I’m– I’m all right. I just wanted to see if my built-in teletheric still worked.” 

S: (Cleo) “Are you dead, Merlin? Are you in the Big Garden now?”

M: (Merlin) “Um, no. I– I don’t think I’m dead. I’m definitely not sure where I am, though.” 

Narrator X: Cleo may be wondering if Merlin is in heaven, but at first glance it really looks more like he may be in hell. 

S: Like old-school, classical, fire-and-brimstone type of hell. 

M: Not that he has a reference point for these things the way that you do, listener. 

X: The air shimmers with heat. The cave-like surfaces surrounding Merlin are some sort of dark red stone, the red of ruby, of rust, or blood, or perhaps a rich red velvet cake,

S: broken and lumpy and uneven like a cooling lava flow, with veins of hot orange magma glowing within its cracks and seams. 

M: Merlin can see at once that this stone is not the same as the substance that the city is composed of – what Steve claimed was the basic matter of reality, equivalent to what their cosmos’s theorists had called “bedrock.”

X: No. This stuff, this stone, is shockingly terrestrial, worldly. The stuff of islets. 

S: It has texture and form and physical realness in a way that the pitch-black graphite stuff of the city never came close to. 

X: Unlike the bedrock city where the ground curved up slightly, like standing on the inside of a bowl, here, now, the ground curves slightly down, like Merlin is standing on the outside of a bowl.

S: Weird! Different! The walls are glowing with an orangey-red radiance. 

M: (Merlin) “I would appear to be in some kind of subterranean environment. There’s lava. There’s gravity.” 

X: Oh yes, so there is – and lots more gravity than there was in the bedrock city. Why, this is the closest thing Merlin has felt in some time to what he would consider “normal” gravity since they got here, though in fact, it now feels almost a little bit excessive. He could swear he feels heavier than usual. 

M: (Biological Man) “You’re not hurt, are you, Merlin? What did the sunbeam do to you?”

S: asks the Biological Man. 

M: (Merlin) “Well, it didn’t feel great. It was kind of like being stretched and then compressed.” 

S: He rubs his faceplate. He hasn’t really had taste as a sensation for a while, but a sensation very much like taste did flood his senses while that sunbeam enveloped him, manifesting as a very potent, heavy metal… flavor in his… mouth.

M: Maybe more accurate to say he’s tasting where the experience of his mouth and taste used to be? He’s glad it was brief. 

X: (Everett) “What the fuck happened to you, Merlin? What do you see?” Everett’s voice cracks over the teletheric. “If you’re there, is… is anyone else… there?”

M: (Merlin) “I don’t know, Everett. I don’t see anyone else. And I don’t see the Sentinel, either. I’m standing on top of a pile of…” 

S: He shifts his feet, looking down. 

M: (Merlin) “…assorted junk. Please give me a moment to get my bearings. There is no need to panic. I will call you right back, I promise.”

X: And Merlin ends the call, granting himself a moment’s peace.

M: Merlin carefully descends the mountain of garbage, appreciating his body’s sense of balance. This place is nonsense, an absolute non sequitur. It’s enough of a shock that it’s actually helping to counteract the horror and panic of the near-death experience he just had, almost like waking up from a bad dream by having a bucket of hot water dumped on your head. 

X: The pile of stuff on which he has appeared is just one of many such piles.

S: This cave-like environment is filled to the brim with stuff, kind of like a hoarder’s house or a landfill.

X: As his bocular eyes take it all in, he picks out select details: 

S: Papier-mâché polyhedrons patterned with unrecognizable glyphs. 

X: Big sheets of corrugated metal, bent, semi-melted. 

M: Something that looks sort of like a bathtub, but is inside out.

S: Crinkly packets of red paste. 

X: Hundreds of loose, scattered, chartreuse-green syringes. 

M: Inscrutable rectangles made of an unknown material – 

S: It’s plastic. But Merlin doesn’t know that. 

M: Everything he sees is non-living, non-organic. Objects, like him. Like him? Hmm. 

X: As he gazes around, he starts to pick out some order to the mess. In some ways, this actually seems semi-organized in here. 

S: There are orderly rows of two-inch silvery flakes, 

M: a mound of mostly blue items, 

X: stacks of wood planks sorted by length, 

S: metallic canisters with sloshing liquid in them. 

M: Glass items, 

X: items that make ticking sounds, 

S: sharp things, fragile things, rusty things. It’s like someone started sorting through the mess, got hopelessly hyperfixated on a hundred different weirdly specific organization schemas, and gave up partway through each one. 

M: So Merlin walks, wending his way through crumbling mountains of junk and blood-red stalagmites. 

S: Tearror slop sizzles in pools on the ground or oozes out of the weird objects.

X: He keeps his distance from this, and of course from the lava coiling in between the cracks of dark red stone. 

S: In some places the lava even pours from the ceiling, slow and goopy and radiant. 

M: It is so perplexing, so mesmerizing, so maze-like, that Merlin is caught very off guard when his walk comes to an abrupt end at a wall. 

S: Like, a literal 90-degree straight up-and-down smooth wall.

X: So, wait a minute. Is he in a cave, or is this just a very large sort of cave-like room? 

M: What is going on? The sheer amount of nonsense he’s been subjected to. Why can’t one thing occasionally make sense around here?? 

X: He now stares uncomprehendingly at a huge, heavy blast door type thing set into the smooth wall. It has no visible operating mechanism, and it is clearly way too huge and way too heavy for a person to lift. 

M: But then, he’s not a person. Not anymore. He can do things a person… can’t.

[A quizzical wood block and bell theme.]

Merlin, the ideas guy, the cerebral one, the philosopher, the academic, the thinker, the… mad(?) scientist, never identified with his body much, beyond a convenient means to get around, a way to interface with others, and yes, a charismatic and handsome tool to smooth the way in social situations. Why, a means to open doors, you might say.

S: The body he’s currently inhabiting is much, much stronger than any normal person. 

M: That’s by design. 

S: Part of the reason he built and brought the Bocular Man in the first place was to help with heavy labor. 

M: Well, heck! Could Merlin really lift it? He’s never really tested the limits of his bocular capabilities.

S: Maybe because, consciously or not, he always considered this body a kind of temporary experience, a hotel room. 

M: But after all, the Biological Man has been getting real comfortable in HIS body, growing out his beard, hanging out with his friends, looking through his memories. What exactly has Merlin been waiting for? He’s in THIS body now. He IS this body now.

Merlin seizes the edge of the door, driving his mechanical fingers down into the red dirt until he feels the square edge there, and he heaves. 

(Merlin) [groans of exertion]

Bocs buzz, legs flex, force redistributes. With his recently replenished bocs, he feels spry and powerful. Cosmoses keep trying to kill him, and yet here he is, stronger than ever. He will not be the one to capitulate, this door will. And he feels something give – there’s a shifting, a deep shuddering from within the wall. Dirt and stone rain from the ceiling. He hauls the door up, bocs humming, holding it above his head like a champion power lifter. As much of a rush as this is, that really takes it out of him. Even though he just switched out his bocs, he’s going to run these new ones down fast if he keeps doing this kind of thing. Ough, okay. We’re just gonna go through and set that back down now, okay. 

[A heavy crash. A verdant and lush new soundscape.]

M: (Merlin) “Oh. Oh my.” 

X: Beyond the doorway, here now on the other side, Merlin gazes out over another cavern, 

S: overgrown like a rainforest, lit by the same primal earthly glow of fiery lava. 

X: It is a tangle of life, a sort of a hell jungle. 

M: Dense, bizarre underbrush creeps and coils. Veiny roots pulse beneath a spongy membrane of soil. 

S: More isolated puddles of tearror slop gloop and glob among the plant life.

X: The air is thick, almost syrupy, but not with fold: with humidity, particles, odors, heat.

S: Translucent trees, trunks smooth and jointed like massive crustacean limbs, puff drifting spores that swirl like galaxies. 

X: Succulent tubers ripple and wave, chameleonic flesh shimmering with color. 

M: Dewy polyps hang from thick black vines, dripping honeyed fluids. 

S: Fibrous petals unfurl from the trunks of fat yellow cacti. 

X: Fleshy fans rhythmically expand and contract like lungs. 

M: Red flowers, meaty and glistening like exposed muscle tissue, twitch trembling finger-like tendrils as they sense the vibration of Merlin’s passing. 

S: All this is very extraordinary and breathtaking, but Merlin is just a bit more focused on the two people standing there in the jungle underbrush just ahead of him, gaping at him in open-mouthed amazement. 

M: (Merlin) “Felix! Tzila! You’re alive!” 

X: (Tzila) “Oh shit, Merlin! I’m so glad to see you, but, oh shit…”

S: (Felix) “Shh! Can we not yell?”

X: Whoa, Felix and Tzila! What a total and completely unexpected surprise to everyone, 

S: not least of all the listener. 

X: No one saw this reunion about to happen. Felix and Tzila are both looking alarmingly sunburned and painfully toasted, but at least they are alive. 

M: (Merlin) “Wha-what happened? What happened to you?”

X: (Tzila) “I don’t know. I was shooting the laser and suddenly the Sentinel was there and then the sun beam happened, and the next thing I knew I was… wherever this, here. And then Felix appeared a minute later – he basically fell right on top of me – and now you’re here, so I guess that means the Sentinel got you too, huh? God, what a disaster.” 

S: Felix looks exasperated, which is quite a feat considering all the other emotions available in this situation. (Felix) “Come on, Merlin. I heroically sacrifice myself to save you, and for nothing? What a waste of time.” 

M: (Merlin) “Yes, thank you, Felix. That was very valiant of you.”

X: Merlin does feel a surge of gratitude, though.

M: (Merlin) “I-I never thought you would… and I can’t even tell you how happy I am that you’re… But where are we? What is this?!” 

S: Tzila brushes off a cluster of wriggling pods that have taken a mindless interest in her. 

X: (Tzila) “Hell if I know. All I can really tell you at a first glance is that this… ecosystem? This is the most bizarre shit I’ve ever seen.” 

S: She takes it all in with wide, amazed eyes. 

X: (Tzila) “I mean, no two of these plants are the same species. None of these even look related to each other. This is not natural. Nothing here belongs together. I mean, even the Delta had more cohesion than this. This is like, peak randomness, and ugh, I’m so heavy. Does anyone else feel heavy?” 

S: Felix looks up through the dense vegetation at the dark red cave ceiling overhead. (Felix) “Would you be quiet? The Sentinel’s here somewhere. I swear I saw it a minute ago, above the trees. I’m not sure where it went. I do not want to get blasted again. That was… god, that hurt.” 

M: Merlin blinks his eyes on and off, surprised. (Merlin) “It… it hurt?” 

X: Tzila looks at him, kind of incredulous. (Tzila) “Yeah, it hurt a lot. It still hurts. You didn’t feel anything?” She kind of frowns at him. “Well, I guess it’s maybe a little different for you?”

M: Merlin doesn’t like this, doesn’t like how little he apparently felt. (Merlin) “It was unsettling, disorienting, but I, I didn’t experience pain per se.” 

S: (Felix) “Yeah, it was like getting shoved inside a blast furnace that was also an elevator that crashed into the ceiling. It sucked. I would rather break a limb than do that again.”

X: (Tzila) “Yeah, it was kind of like I was like a slinky that got stretched out to its limit and then just snapped back in a completely new location, all while also being, like, brûléed.”

S: She gingerly touches her angry first-degree burned skin. 

X: (Tzila) “Ugh. It’s still better than what I thought was gonna happen to me, I guess.”

M: (Biological Man) “Merlin? Merlin, are you still there?” 

X: Merlin’s teletheric squawks again. 

M: (Biological Man) “I hope you are still there. Are you receiving me? This is the Biological Man.”

(Merlin) “Ah, ah, ah, yes. Sorry for the delay. I am still here.” 

X: Felix lights right up. 

S: (Felix) “Holy shit, yes, Merlin! I forgot you’re teletheric! Fuck yes!” 

M: (Merlin) “Yes, and I’ve got a connection to the Biological Man’s handheld. Wherever we are, it seems we’re still within teletheric range of one another.”

X: (Everett) “Who’s there? Is that– is that– was that Felix’s voice??” 

S: Everett chimes in, clearly very emotional. Tzila leans over Merlin’s chest. (Tzila) “And me, I’m here too!” 

M: Everett is nearly choking on hope. 

X: (Everett) “Tzila, oh god, if– if you’ve all survived, do you think it’s possible–” 

S: Just then, there is a sudden rustling through the overgrown jungle thicket as a big barrel-chested grime-smeared human man emerges through the vegetation brandishing a makeshift spear. 

M: No one moves. Everyone stares. 

X: (Hambing) “Holy shit, no way!”

S: the big man says, 

X: as Ripley Rawfield and Micky Fluke emerge through the undergrowth behind him.

[An extremely long-awaited reprise of the Unend theme.]

S: All three survivors are in varying stages of Arnold-Schwarzenegger-at-the-end-of-Predator jungle survival gear. 

X: Yeah, if Rawfield looked grizzled before, she’s positively grizzly now. 

M: They are sweaty and grimy, none more so than Rawfield, who is also caked in mud and sweat and covered in scratches and wrapped in makeshift lab coat bandages.

X: All three of them look like they’ve been roughing it in a totally different and way more intense way than the rest of the crew has. Like, serious, deadly jungle survival mode. 

M: Merlin immediately lunges toward them, arms outstretched. (Merlin) “Oh my goodness, you’re fucking alive?!”

X: (Everett) “Wha– Who’s alive?? Who’s there??” 

S: Everett shouts over the teletheric, practically in tears.

X: Micky’s tense grime-smeared expression softens as she hears Everett’s voice. She rushes forward and grabs Merlin by the shoulders, speaking into his chest-mounted teletheric grille. 

S: (Micky) “It’s me, Everett! I’m here! We’re all here! I love you! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice. Are you okay?” 

X: (Everett) “Am I okay? Oh god, Micky, I was so–”

[A distant but nonetheless menacing Sentinel sound.]

X: Oh shit. Everyone flinches. 

S: Rawfield lifts her head, listening intently and narrowing her eyes. (Rawfield) “We shouldn’t stay here.” 

M: Merlin casts about. (Merlin) “So the Sentinel IS here? Where is ‘here,’ anyway?” 

X: Rawfield beckons to them, and the entire group begins to move carefully into the undergrowth. Rawfield glances over her shoulder at Merlin. 

S: (Rawfield) “We’re inside the sun.” 

M: Merlin nearly trips over a root. (Merlin) “The sun? Really?! How is that– Okay. I will defer to you. You’re the one who’s been here the longest.”

S: (Rawfield) “No, I’m not.”

X: Micky and Hambing exchange knowing glances, as ahead, one more figure parts the leaves, bent and frail and hobbling 

S: A pendulum-like sack hanging from a shriveled neck stalk swirls with sluggish fold and dim, barely-visible flickers of light.

X: (???) “Hello,” 

S: says the alien weakly. 

X: (Guy) “I’m Guy.”