#deep dnb

Field Transmission, M. Ellis — Day 27

“…I found graffiti on the old walls. Fresh paint. That means someone passed here not long ago. If it was you — leave another mark. I’ll follow.”

Field Transmission, M. Ellis — Day 34

“…fields, endless fields. Every horizon looks the same. Are you out there? Am I chasing ghosts?”

Field Transmission, M. Ellis — Day 42

“…this is Daniel Cole, transmitting again. If you can hear me — I’ve come too far to turn back. Keep the signal alive. I’ll find you, whoever you are.” — Field Transmission, M. Ellis

Resonance Research Bureau – Observation Log 38/UNDERPASS/[REDACTED]

Location: Pedestrian Underpass C-17, Inner Ring Road Source: Child testimony (Subject K, age 8)

Transcript:

“We were walking home in the rain. Mom said we’d use the tunnel.

The lights inside were flickering and loud. I held her hand because I didn’t like the sound.

Then her hand wasn’t there. My fingers were just closed on nothing.

I looked around. She was gone.

I could still hear her shoes beside mine. Right next to me. But there was nobody.

I started crying and walking at the same time. The steps stayed by my ear.

Then something took my hand. Too tight. I tried to pull away.

After a moment it felt like her again. Warm. Normal. She asked why I stopped.

I said she disappeared. She said she didn’t.

Her hand was clean and dry. Mine was dirty, like I fell — but I didn’t fall.”

End of Log

“As a child, we lived on the last street. Behind our house there were no more houses, only a row of trees, and beyond them the fields, the winter plain dissolving into fog. I used to stand there and imagine that the world simply ended past the trees. As if there was nothing at all beyond them.

Now I find myself once more at the edge of the city, the same cold, dry air biting at my face. Only one thing has changed: I can no longer brush off the thought. Maybe there really is nothing beyond the trees — and if you step past them, you don’t return.” — Elias Harrow, Whispers Beneath the Pines

"I crossed another outer district tonight — tall concrete housing blocks repeating along the road, their windows dark, their paint peeled down to bare stone.

A single sodium lamp still worked near the perimeter, casting a low amber band through the damp air. I stopped there only briefly. No voices. No traffic.

Half-buried near the curb I noticed a metal plate, its screws rusted through, its lettering mostly gone. Only a fragment remained legible: — Research Division — The rest had flaked away into orange dust.

Nothing moved. Even the loose wires along the fence line hung without sway, as if the night itself had weight.

I didn’t linger. Places like this don’t feel empty — only left mid-use.

I kept east along the darker stretch of road. The lamp fell behind quickly. For a few minutes the ground still felt measured beneath my steps, then the rhythm thinned out and disappeared."

From the correspondence of Daniel and Margaret Cole, April 17 2087 – November 04 2088

Resonance Research Bureau – Observation Log 24/COLUMN/[REDACTED]

Location: Abandoned RRB Substation 3A, Outer District Source: Child testimony (recorded; Subject A, age 10)

Transcript:

"The older kids used to sneak behind the fence to smoke, near the old concrete pillars. They said Liam stopped going with them after one day — he heard his own laugh there.

We wanted to see if it was true. So after school, we went — me, Nora, and the twins. The place was huge and empty, just those giant concrete legs holding up nothing. You could hear every little sound: our shoes, the wind, our own hearts.

We waited. At first there was nothing, only the echo of the road far away. Then, when Nora whispered that this was stupid, we heard it.

It sounded exactly like Liam — the way he laughs when he’s trying not to. It came from right between the pillars, even though no one was there. Like it was trapped there.

We ran. And when we looked back, we still heard one last short laugh — like it was saying goodbye."

End of Log

“They asked me once how he managed to survive. The storms, the cold, the roads no one dares to cross anymore.

I don’t have an answer. There’s no record of anyone protecting him, and yet no one ever harmed him either.

You have to understand — people out there steal, fight, kill for food, for shelter… But when they saw him, they didn’t. They just… let him pass.

Some say it’s luck. Others think they were afraid. I’m not sure what I believe. Maybe they saw what I did — that he walks like someone who already knows where he’s going.“ — Dr. Eleanor Marsh – Archivist