September 27, 2014:

In your mouth are globes of soft rubber, like melted pencil erasers. You pull them like string cheese from between gum and cheek. It's a satisfying emptiness. Yet there are many, many more.

The land has become a matrix of lagoons: artificial reservoirs filling valleys between craggy, rocky peaks.

That's the nature of spiders. From the moment of the first helicopter crash you knew there'd be a blackout.