Transcript
Ben Garrett (0:00)
It's.
Brian Sovey (0:48)
Russia. It's a country bigger than three continents, a mass of resources difficult to comprehend, a theater of glory that few have seen the edges of. And so it seems a dark place. It has the feel of the unknown about it, a fairytale place stuck in a different time and world, where immeasurable wildernesses are interrupted only by the odd settlement here and there. Those settlements could range from a few ramshackle houses to concrete ruins left over from a checkered past, and even to colorful castles that inspire whimsy and awe. It's a dream world, an ocean of unknowns painted green and brown and gray. It is a rope tugged between the two poles of Europe and Asia, the great west and the farthest east. And the strain of this tug of war has left its marks on the land, tossing here and there between pagan history and Christian settlement. And godless communist uprising has beaten the country to a pulp time and time again, leaving it bloodied in the face and bleeding from the vitals. Yet it remains. It lingers on, sometimes confusedly, dancing its dance of Orthodoxy and dealing still with the rampant sin that few have been immune to in this modern age. Even its modernity shows signs of its incompleteness, for that is what Russia really feels like somehow. Incomplete, unfinished, waiting. The metropolitan titans of Moscow and St. Petersburg shine with lights as bright as any major center of modern human development in our day. But bright as they may be, they cannot hide the shadow that covers the land's bulk Again, it is like a fairy world, caught between what modern man wants to make of it and what it actually is, what it perhaps used to be. And despite its true and glorious history, its courageous stands against the onset of Islam, its conquering of the Mongol horde by the Christian tsar, its tragic fight to the death, and the first great war to end all wars, the thing it is perhaps most known for is a thing it did not really consent to at all. At least not its common man. What am I talking about? Well, I'm talking about its time bearing the name Soviet Union. The scars of the Iron Curtain remain today, both in its infrastructure and its lineage of people. How far back did Lenin and Stalin and the Bolsheviks set their Riffian comrades? Well, who can say? But it must certainly be a long way under the thumb of communism. The land became a library of Alexandria writ large, burning in the fires, losing uncounted volumes of tradition and knowledge and wealth and identity to the consuming flames of Communist utopianism. That time of mystery, of debauchery, of death and of intrigue, is perhaps what fuels so much natural speculation about what sorts of things could be lurking in that place that we haven't seen before, things lost in the great and terrible fire of tyranny. But it isn't just that. There's something in Russia's deep past that haunts the edges of any eyes turned to peer into its history. In southern Siberia, tucked away in a long forgotten limestone cave, scientists found a fragment of bone. The year was 2008. They took it for study, thinking it may be the remains of some very early human inhabitants of the region. But what they found struck them dumb. Closer inspection made them wonder whether or not the bone fragment was human at all. The DNA tests were all over the place, leading them to believe that the finger belonged to a young female who was more related to Neanderthals than modern man, but who was nonetheless not a Neanderthal. Eventually, this subspecies of man, for that is what the materialist scientists called them, took on the colloquial name the Denisovans, after the cave in which they were first found. A race of humans or humanoids from an epoch of time long past. And our disagreements with the evolutionary narrative and timeline aside, it is a fascinating find. Some other ancient cultures speak of a people thought by some to be the old Denisovans, sages from the far north who bring knowledge and technology to the budding man in the Fertile Crescent. Giants and demigods of great power and lore. But of course, this is probably nothing more than an overblown Graham Hancock inspired fancy. I'd place very little stock in it, relying as it does on the deep time view of history that I frankly reject. However, it can't be denied that it is fascinating. Perhaps it betrays a longing in the collective subconscious of man to make sense of all the strangeness that comes to us from the badlands of Russia, because, my goodness, there is a great deal of strangeness there. Take just one little sliver of the strange northern country, for example. Well, I say little, but Lake Baikal is anything but little. It is the world's largest freshwater lake by volume, containing 23% of the world's fresh surface water. It is also the world's deepest lake, reaching over a mile into the Earth in some areas. Its footprint is not small either. No, it has a surface area larger than that of Belgium. Baikal is cradled in the southern section of Russia's more easterly side, just above the border to neighboring Mongolia, acting as a great wall separating the fertile land to the north from the high desert to the south. Some argue that it is the Oldest freshwater lake in the world, though that is disputed. With age comes memory, deep memory, and, if the stories are to be believed, other things as well. There are some who believe that the things we call UFOs and UAPs actually do not come to us from somewhere out there in the vastness of space. Rather, it's said, they come from the deep places of the world, both the crafts and their occupants. In 1982, a team of elite Soviet soldiers sat on the bank of Lake Baikal in the summer. The records indicate that they were there for a training exercise that took place over the course of several days. This was a routine event for the Soviet military, and was therefore routine for the seven men undertaking this training. They had been to Baikal before, many times even. The story goes that things went very well for the first few days of the exercise. Benchmarks were met, new skills were taught, and the team was showing the quiet professionalism characteristic of the elite soldiering class in Russia. All signs pointed to a successful, which is to say ordinary and uneventful conclusion to the proceedings. But then dawn rose up the next morning. The sun shone brightly that day, and the white clouds jumped out at them from a rich blue sky. It was the fairest time of the year for that part of the world, and spirits were high even among the characteristically sullen and stoic Special Forces soldiers. As they checked their equipment and suited up for the dive, they cracked jokes among themselves and looked forward to the task ahead of them. They had two decompression chambers on the shore that were ready for use should someone come up with the bends, but nobody expected them to get any use. These men had done far more grueling dives in far more treacherous places. They knew how to handle themselves. The confidence only lightened the mood more, not to mention the unusually excited and friendly state of the higher brass that had come to watch the proceedings. All of it felt so informal. It was a welcome relief, they figured, from the more serious and perilous regiment of training and field work they did in those times. And so, while the wind came down over the mountains across the lake and stirred up little waves that lapped onto the shore, the group of soldiers waded into the clear water, pulled their masks down and put their regulators in, and gave the signal before all seven of them plunged beneath the little waves at the same time. They were to dive deep, but not for too long, of course, once one goes deep enough, time matters less and less. The decompression stops would ensure they only came out of the water around midday, so the higher ups and other non elite soldiers were able to, for lack of a better word, relax until they came back. Kind of like that scene in Harry Potter where apparently all of the schools sat on floating docks and watched the task during the fourth book. You know, the one where they couldn't see anything happening under the surface of the water? Absolutely. A strange plot hole, J.K. rowling, but you know, we'll overlook it anyway. What happened next was strange. The brass was standing on the shore when all of a sudden the soldiers came back. They came back far too soon. A full hour before their slated surface window, all seven divers were seen bobbing up from the depths and swimming quickly to the shore. They ran up onto the beach as if to escape something and then collapsed on the sand in exhaustion, turned on their backs so that they were facing the water. They'd just been, as if looking at it, keeping a watch. One of the commanders marched up to the soldiers and shouted questions at them. Why are you back now? Get back in the water and finish the training. Why are you already here? The divers shared nervous looks with one another before finally one of them rose and met the commander's eyes. He told him everything that he could remember from what they had all just witnessed. Everything began normally enough. The descent was just as each descent had been on the other days. The unbelievably clear waters let them see far in every direction as they sank down. Even when the depth made the light dim, they could look up and see the shining blue sky above him. They could even still catch sight of clouds and birds above the surface of the water. At depth, they started moving in the predetermined pattern that was the reason for the dive. It was something of an odd formation, but one they had picked up on fairly well enough. The seven men swam around a few hundred feet down in a ring where each man faced outwards as if to protect something in the middle of their group. That was the exercise, obviously not the most intuitive thing. But once the awkwardness and difficulties in communication had been worked out, once they remembered all the instruction from the surface, they started to move fluidly through the water. That is, until something happened about 10 minutes into the exercise. Eventually, one of the men turned his body enough to look back into the middle of the ring and what he saw shocked him. Three figures were there. Three figures that did not belong to his team. He couldn't contain his surprise and the fear that resulted from what he saw. He frantically waved to the divers adjacent to him and with wide eyes pointed out their company. Soon all Seven men now formed a ring facing inwards, looking at the surreal guests that had joined them. Uninvited on their training. The three things just hung there in the water. They hardly moved, did not appear concerned at all that they'd been seen. The men studied them to try and determine what they were. They couldn't be other divers, no other teams were anywhere close to the area. But gradually, each man realized that trying to determine exactly who they were was futile. See, the problem was that these figures just weren't human. Instead of who, they began to ask themselves the more surreal question. What? In the middle of the ring, as clear as day, three humanoid yet alien like creatures hung in the water. They wore silvery skins that harshly reflected any light that touched them. Instead of any diving gear, each one had a strange bell or dome shaped thing around its head. It was not a helmet, for it did not appear closed, and its surface seemed thin and translucent, almost like a jellyfish. They had massive eyes that stared keenly through the clear water and in turn at each of the seven Soviet divers. Oh, and one more thing. They were tall. At least 9ft tall. For what felt like hours, the men were trapped in the trance of strangeness that came with the uncanny picture before their eyes. Everyone stayed completely still and the creatures appeared eerily calm. After a while, each of the intruders just sort of dissolved back into a shadow of the water, like they were made from it and could spawn out of it and then into it again at will. Finally, when the last one had entirely faded away, each man found himself looking across the ring at his comrades. Without any need for consultation and without anyone giving signs of ascent, they all began the surfacing process as one unit, though they knew it was too early to do so. The commander was initially shaken by the story. He knew these men, and even of those he knew less well. He knew their pedigree and what they had to go through to get to this level of elite military prowess. These were trusted men. He knew they wouldn't be making something like this up, something that could only make their superiors question their sanity. With nothing to gain at all but skepticism, he dismissed the divers to recover, but in whatever manner they chose, so long as they didn't leave the beach. Once that was done, he walked over to consult with the other higher ranking officers who were there that day. He couldn't hide the note of anxiety in his voice at the strange report. The more hardened men he spoke to could hear it, seasoning his every word. Upon completing the story, one of the men pulled the commander aside and tried to open his eyes to the truth of what had happened. He told him that though these things were unknown and strange, they need not be feared. He told them that these actually represented an incredible opportunity for the Soviets if they played their cards right. He told him to steel himself and get his nerves in order. He told him to order the divers back into the hungry depths of Lake Baikal. Not only that, he told him to order the divers to capture and bring back one of those creatures to the surface for study, dead or alive. The mood was somber by the late afternoon. The soldiers present, who were not part of the elite seven divers, stood idly by and watched the seven soberly work through the process of putting all their dive gear back on for another dive. Though they tried to conceal it, they could see that the men were beginning to even tremble with anxiety and fear about what could happen should they have the misfortune of meeting those strangers swimmers again. But orders were orders, and these men were not accustomed to disobeying them. Each man was given a small length of steel wire, no more than 20ft worth, with a noose tied into one end. They were told to use these nooses to catch and drag one of the creatures back to the water's edge so that it could be subdued and taken by the government for further study elsewhere. As the sun touched the edge of the mountains to the west, fleeing over the horizon, the divers waded into the frigid waters. The men flicked on their headlamps and performed the final pre dive checks before sinking slowly into the water. Those on the surface waited with bated breath. The soldiers hoped for an empty handed return and the officers rubbed their hands together, hoping for some monster to appear on the men's leashes. After about half an hour, the answer came. Observers saw the water begin to churn as if heated to an instant boil. A thick cloud like dense fog rose off the bubbling surface, coalesced into a shade lit by the moon and sped off into the night. Following this, black masses began to shoot through the surface with an impossible violence, breaching the waters before falling back into the churn to swirl like lifeless dolls in the violent eddies. The men on the shore did not wait for the order. They ran into the water and began dragging the unconscious divers out, two to a man, onto the beach and towards the decompression chambers that, like I said, had to be ready along with the exercise according to military regulations. Each man was pale white like a sheet, already succumbing to decompression sickness, the deadly ailment known to divers everywhere as the bends. The bends are a silent killer, always waiting for a diver to make a single fatal mistake. It happens when a diver ascends too quickly after spending too much time deep underwater. See, in the deep water, the pressure is crushing. It pushes gases, mostly nitrogen, into the bloodstream, where they dissolve into the tissues like a sponge soaking up water. But when a diver rises too fast, the gases, instead of gradually releasing through the lungs in tiny bubbles, come rushing out in large bubbles. The result, excruciating pain, tissue destruction, and ultimately a painful death. The first sign of the bends is often a sharp, searing pain, like someone's taken a knife to your joints. That's the nitrogen bubbles forming in your muscles and ligaments. It can start in the shoulders, the knees or the elbows. In the chaos of a rapid ascent, you're at the mercy of those bubbles. And if they move into your bloodstream, they can clog the arteries, the heart, the brain. And that's when it turns lethal. The only treatment for a diver who has taken too rapid of an ascent is to quickly recompress their body in a compression chamber, simulating the deep water environment and preventing the bubbles from destroying vital tissues. The problem for the Soviet divers was that not only were there not really enough compression chambers available, one of them turned out to be broken. As the divers reached the shore, they quickly shoved the first four men into the first chamber and latched it shut to begin this life saving compression process. The other three were placed in the other chamber, but after they shut it, they found that it was faulty. In a classically Soviet Russia era gaffer. The engineers had not checked the maintenance performed on it before deploying the piece of equipment for the exercise. The first chamber could not fit any more men. It was really only built for two in the first place, not the four that currently occupied it, and certainly not seven. The men on the shore could do nothing other than wait in tense and knowing silence. A few of them stayed to watch as the unconscious men inside the defective chamber died in agony one by one, after hours of compression and then slow decompression, the other men were lucid enough to tell the story of what had happened. Though left with lifelong and debilitating injuries from the event. This is what they told the commander through chattering teeth and crazed eyes. After a quick descent to their previous depth, they had made their way to the vicinity of the earlier sighting. They waited there, floating in the water and shining their lamps on full brightness in an attempt to attract anything sentient that may be close by. It worked. From the darkness of the water emerged three silvery bodies, long and thin and strangely faceless, groping towards them in a shocking display of courage. One of the divers began to swim directly towards the alien group, unspooling his noose in the hopes of surprising one of them unawares. But just as he got nearer to them, the tallest one seemed to produce a metallic, shimmering device from its side and bring it up to point it at the divers. The thing moved its device around, not violently, but in an almost understated movement. But what emanated from it was anything but understated. Out of the device, there suddenly formed a powerful swirling force, a kind of immensely strong whirlpool. The water all around the divers began to violently toss, and the men were quickly incapable of figuring out which way was up or down or left or right. They knocked hard into one another, barely hanging onto their regulators and completely at the mercy of this underwater storm that the beings seemed to create at will. The whirlpool enclosed about them, and they felt the sensation of rapid movement, but they did not know which direction they were being hurled. The chaos was so powerful that each man lost consciousness in its wake. Thus, they were each vomited out from the conjured maelstrom of death out of the maw of Lake Baikal. Battered and desperately injured, the Soviets launched a full investigation into the events of that exercise. But no answers for what the swimmers were has ever been put forward. To this day, no one has been able to explain the deadly swimmers of Lake Baikal. What lurks in the crystalline depths of this crack in Rush's skin. What glories, what horrors. Join us in this episode of Haunted Cosmos as we set our sights on the mysteries of the drowned rift known as Lake Baikal.