"GLASS THREADS" - Redwood Bureau Phenomenon #0363

Summary

Redwood Bureau Podcast: "GLASS THREADS" - Redwood Bureau Phenomenon #0363

Release Date: October 26, 2024
Host: Eeriecast Network

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Introduction

In the "Redwood Bureau" podcast episode titled "GLASS THREADS" (Phenomenon #0363), hosted by Eeriecast Network, listeners are plunged into a chilling narrative that intertwines personal turmoil with a broader supernatural threat. The episode is anchored by Agent Conroy, formerly known as Josh Tomar, who has defected from the clandestine Redwood Bureau to expose their dark activities to the public.

The Redwood Bureau and Agent Conroy

The episode opens with Agent Conroy revealing his past association with the Redwood Bureau—a secretive organization dedicated to researching and containing supernatural entities. Conroy divulges the Bureau's ruthless methods, emphasizing their disregard for human lives in their quest to harness the unknown. "Their reckless procedures have led to countless innocent lives lost," Conroy states at [00:53], setting the tone for the episode's exploration of ethical boundaries in supernatural research.

Discovery of the Glass Threads Phenomenon

Agent Conroy delves into the specifics of one of the Bureau's most baffling cases: the emergence of "Glass Threads" in an unsuspecting town. Initially dismissed as minor anomalies—odd injuries and fantastic claims—the situation rapidly deteriorates as bodies exhibiting geometric disintegration are discovered. Conroy narrates, "It was something far more sinister, something that can't be stopped, only slowed" ([05:22]), highlighting the phenomenon's uncontrollable nature.

Josh and Allison's Personal Story

Parallel to the Bureau's report is the intertwined story of Josh Tomar and his friend Allison. Set against the backdrop of a seemingly idyllic summer, Josh attempts to bridge the emotional gap between them. Their journey to a secluded glade marks the first encounter with the Glass Threads. At [07:26], Josh describes Allison's curiosity: "Where exactly are we headed anyway?"

The serene environment is soon disrupted by the appearance of the threads—delicate, shimmering strands that cause immediate and inexplicable harm. Allison's interaction with a thread results in a gruesome injury: "A single drop of blood welled up on the tip of her finger" ([14:15]). This harrowing event sets off a chain reaction of fear and uncertainty, both for Josh and the entire community.

Escalation and the Bureau's Apathy

As the threads proliferate, the Bureau's intervention remains largely indifferent to the public's plight. Conroy criticizes their approach: "They seal off the town, silenced the witnesses, and gathered as much data as they could" ([02:08]). The Bureau's primary concern is control and utilization of the phenomenon for their own gain, not the protection of the populace.

Josh's personal tragedy intensifies as Allison's condition worsens, and the town succumbs to chaos. The narrative reaches a breaking point when Josh discovers that his own family is affected, revealing the pervasive and indiscriminate nature of the threat. "The threads were everywhere, hiding in plain sight," Josh laments ([28:32]).

Redwood Bureau's Containment Efforts

Towards the episode's conclusion, Agent Conroy presents the Bureau's official stance on the Glass Threads. The Redwood Bureau employs a substance known as "God Shed" to neutralize the threads, albeit with limited success. "God Shed..." he explains ([63:57]), detailing the Bureau's methodical yet ultimately futile attempts to contain the spreading menace.

The Bureau's strategy encompasses drastic measures—burning down the affected town and surrounding areas under the guise of a wildfire caused by climate change. Conroy asserts, "What the Bureau did next, though, that's where things get interesting..." ([63:57]), revealing the organization's ongoing struggle to understand and control the phenomenon.

Conclusion and Implications

"GLASS THREADS" serves as a sobering critique of institutional secrecy and the moral compromises made in the face of the unknown. Through Agent Conroy's revelations and Josh's tragic experiences, the episode underscores the devastating impact of the Redwood Bureau's actions on individual lives and communities. The persistent spread of the Glass Threads symbolizes the uncontrollable nature of supernatural forces when manipulated without ethical consideration.

Conroy's final thoughts leave listeners with a haunting question: "This isn't something you can contain or explain. It's something far beyond our understanding. And if we don't find answers sooner than later, this phenomenon has the potential to be world-ending."

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Notable Quotes:

• Agent Conroy ([00:53]): "Their reckless procedures have led to countless innocent lives lost."

• Josh ([07:26]): "Where exactly are we headed anyway?"

• Josh ([05:22]): "It was something far more sinister, something that can't be stopped, only slowed."

• Allison ([14:15]): "It's sharp. Really sharp. Like a razor."

• Agent Conroy ([63:57]): "They didn't like loose ends. If there was even a shred of uncertainty, they'd send us in to clean up the mess."

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Key Takeaways

• Institutional Malfeasance: The Redwood Bureau prioritizes research and control over human safety, leading to widespread tragedy.

• Supernatural Uncontrollability: The Glass Threads represent an enigmatic and unstoppable supernatural force that defies containment.

• Personal Tragedy: Josh and Allison's story personalizes the broader chaos, illustrating the human cost of the Bureau's actions.

• Moral Quandaries: The episode questions the ethical boundaries of scientific exploration and the repercussions of wielding power without accountability.

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"GLASS THREADS" effectively blends a personal narrative with a broader investigation into supernatural phenomena and institutional failures, making it a compelling episode for fans of eerie and thought-provoking storytelling.

Transcript

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[Narrator]

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[Narrator]

Beware the Redwood Bureau, a secret organization which captures and researches creatures and objects that defy explanation. Their reckless procedures have led to countless innocent lives lost.

[Agent Conroy]

I am Agent Conroy.

[Narrator]

I worked for the Redwood Bureau, but I have escaped them to leak their reports to the unsuspecting public. You have the right to know. Among the many events the Redwood Bureau wants to keep buried, some stand out. Not only because they can't explain them, but because doing so would reveal just how little control they really have. They find something strange, something dangerous, and they rush to contain it. But they're not interested in protecting the public. Their only concern is how to use it. How to twist it to their advantage. No matter the cost. The case I'm about to share is one of those events, something that began quietly in an unsuspecting town and spiraled into a nightmare before anyone even knew what was happening. Reports trickled in, Strange occurrences that seemed benign at first. It was nothing major. A few odd injuries, a few fantastic claims, nothing that would make the Bureau step in. But then it escalated rapidly. Bodies were found. If you could call what was left of them a body. By then, the Bureau had taken notice. They came in quietly, as they always do. Quarantine, containment, cleanup. It's a pattern they've nearly perfected. But what they found. Well, they didn't know what to make of it. At first, the phenomenon was unlike anything they'd seen before. Beautiful, delicate, but lethal in ways no one expected. The Bureau did what they always they tried to control it. But control is a dangerous illusion when you're dealing with something beyond comprehension. They sealed off the town, silenced the witnesses, and gathered as much data as they could. But even they couldn't explain what was happening. All they could do was watch as it unfolded, as people's lives fell apart at the seams. I've obtained reports, accounts from the few who managed to survive long enough to tell their stories. What happened in that town wasn't a freak accident. It wasn't a natural disaster. It was something far more sinister, something that can't be stopped, only slowed. And even now, the Bureau is still trying to figure out how to use it, how to make it work for them. They didn't contain this phenomenon. All they did was cover it up, erase it from the records, and keep an eye on their investment. Leaving an entire community as nothing more than a red number on a report. But the phenomenon didn't end there. What was discovered, what they tried to contain, is still out there, still growing, still spreading. And the Bureau? They're just biding their time until they find a solution, a way to harness it. No matter how many lives lost in the process.

[Josh]

Summer never felt quite this bittersweet. The warm air clung to the final days of August, promising change in a way that made my chest tighten every time I thought about it. This was supposed to be my last summer before college, a final hurrah with Allison, before we both went our separate ways. I'd spent years daydreaming about a future with her, every hope hanging on these final few months. And yet here I was, camera in hand, trying to capture the moments while wrestling with a different kind of uncertainty. We'd been friends since middle school, navigating the awkwardness of our teenage years together. And somewhere along the way, I'd fallen for her. Hard. But I was stuck, pinned down by my own insecurities and her indifference. For years, Allison had kept me firmly in the friend zone, and I'd become so used to it that the idea of pushing those boundaries now seemed almost impossible. Still, I couldn't help but think, if not now, then when I wiped the sweat off my brow as we traversed the narrow forest trail, Allison moved ahead of me, her steps light and carefree. She was humming softly, a tune I couldn't quite place, but it filled the air with a calmness I desperately needed. The leaves rustled overhead, casting a constantly shifting pattern of light across the path. I hung back a little, lifting my camera to capture the moment, her silhouette framed by the sun dappled trees.

[Allison]

You coming or you planning to photograph the whole forest?

[Josh]

She called over her shoulder. Her voice was teasing, but warm. Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, I replied, forcing a laugh. I jogged a few steps to catch up, holding the camera from bouncing against my chest. I had this entire day planned out, or at least I had hoped it would go a certain way. We'd end up in the glade I found a few years back, the secret, beautiful spot I'd never shared with anyone. I hoped it would be enough to make her see me in a different light, even if just for a moment.

[Allison]

Where exactly are we headed anyway?

[Josh]

Allison asked, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

[Allison]

You're being all mysterious.

[Josh]

I felt my face heat up and tried to shrug it off. Oh, just somewhere cool I found a while ago. Figured it would make for some great photos. She grinned.

[Allison]

You and your camera. I swear it's glued to your hands.

[Josh]

I smiled, gripping the camera strap tighter. Photography was my shield, the thing I could use to hide behind when words failed me, which was most of the time, especially around her. I snapped another photo of the trail, capturing the way the light painted stripes of shadow on the ground. But my eyes were on her. This was supposed to be my chance, the moment where I could say what I'd been keeping in my chest for so long. But the words stuck to the back of my throat. As we walked, the air grew warmer and more humid, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. The trail started to widen and I knew we were getting close. My heart raced as I pushed a branch aside and led the way into the clearing. There it is, I said, stepping into the glade. Allison followed, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.

[Allison]

Whoa.

[Josh]

I watched her spin slowly, her face lighting up as she absorbed the tranquil beauty of the place. The glade was circular, bordered by tall pines that whispered softly in the breeze. Sunlight streamed down in thick golden beams, illuminating patches of wildflowers scattered across the grassy floor. It felt like stepping into a painting, something too perfect to belong in the real world.

[Allison]

How did you find this place?

[Josh]

She asked, looking at me with a mixture of awe and curiosity. Just got lucky, I guess, I mumbled, suddenly feeling self conscious. I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to keep my voice casual. Thought it'd be cool to share it with you. She gave me a smile and made my heart do a little flip.

[Allison]

It's incredible. Thanks for bringing me here.

[Josh]

I felt a surge of hope, a sense that this moment could turn into something more. I lifted my camera again, snapping a photo of her standing there, framed by sunlight and wildflowers. This was it, I told myself. This was the perfect time to say something, to bridge the gap between us. I opened my mouth, ready to speak, but the words tangled up in my mind and all I managed was a quiet. You look really happy here. She laughed softly, not catching the weight of what I meant.

[Allison]

Well, it's hard not to be. This place is like a little slice of paradise.

[Josh]

She started walking further into the clearing, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if searching for something. I followed, my stomach fluttering with a mix of excitement and dread. It was now or never. I had to tell her how I felt. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to speak. But then something caught the corner of my eye, a flicker of light like sunlight glinting off glass. I frowned and turned my head, squinting at the center of the glade.

[Allison]

What is it?

[Josh]

She asked, noticing my change in focus. I shook my head, trying to dismiss it. Probably nothing. Show me, she insisted, already moving toward where I'd been looking. I led Allison toward the spot where I'd seen the glimmer of light. The sunlight was almost blinding in the open glade, making me squint as I scanned the area. For a second I thought I'd imagined it, that it was just a trick of my eyes adjusting to the brightness. But then there it was again, a tiny, dazzling spark in the center of the clearing. Right there, I said, point pointing. Allison paused, her eyes narrowing as she tried to find what I was looking at.

[Allison]

What is that?

[Josh]

She murmured, stepping closer. The glint seemed to hang in the air, as if a sliver of light had been put in place by some invisible hand. As we approached, it began to take shape, and my breath caught in my throat. It was a thread. No, not just a thread. It was too intricate, too impossibly thin. At first glance, it looked like a strand of spider silk suspended vertically in the air, stretching straight up toward the sky. But as I leaned in closer, I realized it was much more complex. The strand seemed to shimmer, a delicate lattice of crystalline structures interwoven in patterns that made my eyes ache to focus on them. It was beautiful in a way that felt wrong, like seeing something our brains hadn't been designed to comprehend. What the hell? I whispered, pulling my camera up to my eye. I snapped a few shots, zooming in on the display screen to get a better look. My pulse quickened as the image came into view. The thread wasn't a single strand at all. It was made up of countless tiny interlocking shapes, like a web spun from glass. Each shape refracted the sunlight, casting a faint prism of colors around it. I could see the complexity of its structure, something almost geometric but beyond anything I'd ever seen before. It was like a piece of alien technology had been erected here, hidden in plain sight.

[Allison]

Josh, that's kind of incredible, allison said.

[Josh]

Her voice breaking the silence. She was staring at the thread, her eyes wide with wonder.

[Allison]

How is it just standing there?

[Josh]

I. I don't know, I replied, barely managing to tear my eyes away from the camera screen to look at her. It's like nothing I've ever seen. Maybe it's some kind of weird natural.

[Allison]

Phenomenon or a really intricate spiderweb.

[Josh]

She tilted her head, considering.

[Allison]

I mean, spiders can do some pretty crazy things, right?

[Josh]

Yeah, maybe, I muttered, though I didn't believe it. There was something unsettling about the thread, a feeling that it didn't belong here, or anywhere, for that matter. Allison took a cautious step closer, her gaze fixed on the thread. I watched her, my heart hammering in my chest. Allison, don't get too close, I warned, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. She shot me a quick glance, but ignored the concern in my eyes.

[Allison]

It's just a thread, Josh, she said.

[Josh]

With a hint of amusement.

[Allison]

It's not like he's going to bite me.

[Josh]

She reached out a hand, her fingers stretching towards the delicate strand. Panic surged up inside me, and I opened my mouth to stop her. No, don't. I stammered, but the words stuck in my throat. I could only watch, helpless, as her fingertip brushed against the thread. For a split second, it moved. It folded around her finger, twisting like a ribbon caught in a breeze.

[Allison]

Hey.

[Josh]

She yelped, jerking her hand back. A single drop of blood welled up on the tip of her finger, bright crimson against the pale of her skin. I stared, my heart pounding in my ears, the thread had vanished as though it had never existed. What the hell was that? I managed to croak, my eyes darting around, searching for the thread. But it was gone, leaving only the unsettling feeling in its wake. Allison sucked on her finger, frowning.

[Allison]

It's sharp. Really sharp. Like a razor, she said, pulling her.

[Josh]

Hand away from her mouth to inspect the small cut.

[Allison]

Weird, though. Where did it go?

[Josh]

I shook my head, my mind racing. I don't know. It was right there. Well, it's going now, she replied with a shrug, already losing interest. An uneasy silence settled between us, and I found myself staring at the spot where the thread had been. My skin prickled with a sense of wrongness, like we had just witnessed something that defied reality, something we weren't supposed to see. We stood there for a moment, neither of us willing to acknowledge how strange the encounter had been. Then, as if deciding to shrug it off entirely, Allison turned and started walking away.

[Allison]

Come on, let's keep exploring. There's more to see. Right.

[Josh]

She called back, her voice returning to its usual lightness. I hesitated, my eyes lingering on the spot where the thread had been for a heartbeat. I considered telling her that maybe we should leave, that something wasn't right here, but the words dissolved in my mouth, swallowed by the need to keep this day normal, to cling to the hope that everything would go back to being okay. Yeah, right, I muttered, following her. I cast one last glance over my shoulder, a chill running down my spine. The Glade was as still and serene as ever, but the air felt different now, charged with a tension I couldn't name. The drive back was quiet, an uneasy silence stretching between us. Allison sat in the passenger seat, idly scrolling through her phone, seemingly unbothered by the strange encounter in the Glade. I glanced over at her a few times, searching for any hint that she might be as unsettled as I was. But she just looked normal. Relaxed, even. She acted like nothing had happened. I gripped the steering wheel, my eyes glued to the road. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement. Every now and then, I caught a flicker of something in the corner of my eye, a brief glint like sunlight catching on glass. I turned my head, trying to spot what it was, but there was nothing there. Just empty air. The sensation left an uncomfortable knot in my stomach, like the feeling of being watched.

[Allison]

You okay?

[Josh]

Allison asked, breaking the silence. She looked over at me, her brow furrowing slightly. Yeah. Just tired, I guess, I lied, forcing a smile. It was a long hike, she seemed to accept that and went back to her phone, humming softly. I was probably just being paranoid, letting my imagination run wild. That threat had been weird, sure, but weird things happen in nature all the time, right? The thought didn't comfort me as much as I hoped it would. We pulled up outside her house and she hopped out, giving me a casual wave.

[Allison]

Thanks for today, Josh. Text me later, okay?

[Josh]

Yeah, sure, I replied, watching as she walked up to her front door. She paused to give me a quick smile before disappearing inside. Shaking my head, I pulled away from her house and headed home. The glints caught my eye again, flashing along the side of the road as I drove. I gritted my teeth, focusing on the asphalt in front of me, determined to ignore them. It had to be a trick of the light. It had to be. By the time I got home, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a dim orange glow over the neighborhood. My parents were in the kitchen making dinner, and I forced myself to join them, trying to act normal. We talked about mundane things work, school, my upcoming move for college. But I could hardly focus on the conversation, my thoughts circling back to the glade and that damn thread. Later that evening, as I lay in bed, I stared up at the ceiling, replaying the day's event in my mind. I kept seeing the way it had shimmered in the sunlight, the crystalline lattice that made up its impossible structures, Allison's finger, that single drop of blood. My stomach twisted with an unease I couldn't shake. Eventually, exhaustion won out and I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

[Narrator]

Warning signal interruption detected.

[Allison]

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[Josh]

Darkness prevails here. Founder of Eeriecast, my little network of scary shows. I appreciate you listening to our scary content, but did you know you can support us? Get ad free feeds of your favorite shows, get a 20% discount code to the Eriecast store and unlock access to members only audiobooks all at the same time. Just go to eericast.com/ and become a member today. It's cheap and really helps us out. That's Eriecast.com plus thank you.

[Agent Conroy]

Hey I'm Ryan Reynolds. Recently I asked Mint Mobile's legal team if big wireless companies are allowed to raise prices due to inflation. They said yes. And then when I asked if raising prices technically violates those onerous two year contracts, they said, what the are you talking about? You insane Hollywood So to recap, we're cutting the price of mint unlimited from $30 a month to just $15 a month. Give it a [e-mail] Switch $45 upfront.

[Josh]

Payment equivalent to $15 per month New customers on first three month plan only.

[Allison]

Taxes and fees Extra speed slower above 40 gigabytes of details signal connection restored.

[Josh]

I was jolted awake the next morning by the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand. I squinted at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Alison's name flashing on the display. Her call had come at an ungodly hour, barely past six. I answered quickly, sitting up in bed. Hey, what's up? I asked, trying to keep my voice calm despite the rush of worry that surged through me.

[Allison]

Josh, something's wrong.

[Josh]

Her voice was trembling, almost choked.

[Allison]

I need you to come over.

[Josh]

Now. A cold wave of dread washed over me. I swung my legs out of bed, grabbing the clothes I'd left on the floor the night before. I'm on my way, I said, already moving. Just hang tight, okay? I didn't even bother to grab breakfast, just threw on my shoes and rushed out the door. The drive to her place was a blur, my mind racing through every possible scenario. My heart pounded in my chest as I pulled up in front of her house and sprinted to the door. She opened it before I could knock, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. Come in, she whispered, glancing around as if making sure no one else could see. I stepped inside, my skin prickling with a sense of apprehension. What's going on? I asked, my voice barely steady. Allison led me to the living room, hesitating for a moment before she held out her hand. Luck. I stared at her outstretched hand, my breath catching in my throat. Her finger, the one she'd cut yesterday, was missing not just the tip, but almost the entire finger, right up to the knuckle. The wound was bloodless, the skin and flesh cut away in a series of precise geometric sections. It looked like the cuts were still being made, thin red lines tracing further onto her hand. What? How? I stammered, my stomach churning at the sight. I reached out instinctively, but she pulled her hand back, wrapping it protectively against her chest. It just started happening, she choked out, her voice wavering.

[Allison]

I woke up and part of my finger was just gone. And then. Then more started falling off. I don't know what to do.

[Josh]

My mind raced, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing. The wound wasn't normal. It was too precise, too clean. My thoughts flashed back to the thread, the way it had seemed to fold around her finger. We need to get you to the hospital, I said, my voice firm despite the terror bubbling inside me. She shook her head, backing away slightly.

[Allison]

No, they won't understand. They'll just think I'm crazy.

[Josh]

Allison, listen to me, I said, trying to force myself to sound calm. This isn't like anything else. We need to go now. Whatever this is, it might not stop on its own. Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment I thought she was going to argue. But then she nodded, swallowing hard.

[Allison]

Okay. Okay. Let's go.

[Josh]

Relief mixed with a fresh wave of fear as I led her to my car. I pushed my thoughts down, focusing on the road ahead as we sped toward the hospital, the tension between us like a vice squeezing my chest. The hospital loomed ahead, a sterile, imposing structure that sent a chill down my spine as we pulled into the parking lot. Inside, it was chaos. People rushing around, hushed voices over intercoms, and the sterile smell of antiseptic filling the air. I hurried to the front desk, half dragging Allison behind me. She needs help, I blurted out, my voice coming out louder than I intended. The nurse's eyes widened as she glanced at Allison's hand, then quickly picked up a phone. Within moments, two doctors appeared, their faces stern. We need to take her in for examination, one of them said. Allison turned to me, holding my wrist with her good hand, her eyes pleading. But the doctors were firm. I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to wait outside, one of them said, already leading her away. But I began before the nurse stepped in front of me, her tone leaving no room for argument.

[Allison]

Please take a seat. We will update you as soon as possible.

[Josh]

I sat down, trying to calm the storm of fear inside me. I shifted in my seat, my gaze darting around the room. That's when I saw it. A glint just at the edge of the ceiling near the hallway entrance, a tiny shimmering thread catching the harsh fluorescent light. I froze, a sharp inhale catching in my throat. It looked exactly like the one in the glade. Before I could react, a doctor hurried past, his eyes focused on the chart in his hands. I opened my mouth to warn him, to tell him to stop, but the words caught in my throat. He walked straight into the thread and heard a faint. Ow. Damn. It as he rubbed his cheek, not breaking stride. My stomach twisted as I watched him continue down the hall, oblivious to what he had just touched. A cold wave of horror washed over me. This wasn't an isolated incident. It was spreading. The threads were appearing everywhere, invisible dangers that no one seemed to notice. I glanced around, suddenly hyper aware of every glint, every shimmer of light. How many more of those things were out there, hiding in plain sight?

[Allison]

Sir?

[Josh]

A voice jolted me out of my thoughts. I turned to see a nurse approaching, her expression sympathetic but firm.

[Allison]

I'm afraid you'll have to leave now. We're currently receiving a high volume of patients, and we need to limit the number of people in the waiting area.

[Josh]

What? I stammered, my heart skipping a beat. But, my friend, I'm afraid we need.

[Allison]

You to leave for now, she said. We'll contact you as soon as we have more information.

[Josh]

I stared at her for a moment, feeling utterly helpless. But in the end, I nodded and trudged back to my car, glancing over my shoulder at the hospital one last time before driving away. The drive back home felt like a bad dream. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight they turned white, but it was the only thing keeping them from trembling. The nurse had said they'd call, that they'd let me know how Allison was doing, but there was something in her tone, something that betrayed her words. I kept glancing at the rearview mirror, half expecting to see more of those shimmering threads dangling in the air behind me. I hadn't seen any more glints on the way out of the hospital, but that didn't mean they weren't there. The thought sent shivers up my spine. What if they were multiplying? What if they were all over town now? When I pulled into my driveway, the familiar sight of my house did little to calm me. I sat there for a moment, staring at the front door, trying to gather the nerve to go inside. Everything felt wrong, like I was coming back to a different version of my life that had been twisted somehow. The trees in the yard rustled softly, the sunlight catching on their leaves in glints and flashes that made my stomach lurch. I stepped out of the car, my eyes darting around, searching for any sign of those threads. Nothing. Not here, at least. With a deep breath, I walked up to the front door, shoving the key into the lock with shaking hands. The moment I stepped inside, I was hit by the smell of food cooking. Garlic, onions, something roasting in the oven. It was almost comforting, almost enough to make me believe that everything was okay. But then I saw my parents standing in the kitchen, their faces tense. There you are, mom said, turning to look at me with a forced smile.

[Allison]

How did things go with Allison? Is she alright?

[Josh]

I hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain. They took her in. They. They said they need to run some tests. I'm supposed to wait for their call. My dad looked up from the stove, his brow furrowing. What kind of tests? What happened to her? I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for the her finger is gone. My mom's eyes widened, but instead of the fear or concern I'd expected, her expression softened almost dismissively.

[Allison]

Oh, sweetheart, things like this happen all the time, and it's probably nothing serious.

[Josh]

I stared at her, my heart sinking. Nothing serious, I repeated, my voice cracking. Mom. Part of her finger just disappeared. It's like it was cut off in pieces. She blinked, her smile faltering. My dad stepped in, setting down a spoon with a clatter. Let's not jump to conclusions. These things have explanations. The doctors will figure it out. I opened my mouth to argue, but my mom cut me off. Actually, she said, almost as if to change the subject, I had a strange.

[Allison]

Thing happen today too. I walk into a spiderweb at the parking lot at work, and it was so sharp it nicked my shoulder. See?

[Josh]

She pulled down the collar of her blouse, revealing a small, clean cut on her skin, like a paper cut. My blood ran cold. Mom, you need to go to the hospital now. I said, my voice trembling. She shook her head, brushing off my concern.

[Allison]

Oh, stop. I'm fine. Really. It's just a scratch.

[Josh]

No, it's not just a scratch. I shouted, the panic spilling out of me. You don't understand. It's the same thing that happened to Allison. If you don't go, it's going to get worse. My parents exchanged a glance, my dad's expression hardening. That's enough, Josh. We are not going to the hospital for a little cut, he said firmly. You're scaring your mother. Just sit down and relax. I stared at him, anger and fear boiling inside me. How could they be so blind, so unwilling to see what was happening right in front of them? But I couldn't force them. I felt trapped, suffocated by their denial. Without another word, I turned and stormed up to my room, slamming the door behind me. I stood there, my chest heaving, eyes darting around the room. The world felt like it was closing in around me. I collapsed onto my bed, running a hand through my hair as my thoughts spiraled. The threads were out there in plain sight, but no one was looking. I glanced over at my camera sitting on the desk and felt a sudden urge to review the photos from the glade. Maybe there was something in them, something I missed. I scrambled over to the desk and flipped through the images on the camera's display screen. The shots of the glade. Allison standing in the sunlight, the thread shimmering faintly, its intricate latticework almost impossible to focus on. I zoomed in, holding my breath as I studied the delicate shapes. They were beautiful, terrifyingly so, like a piece of alien geometry that defied explanation. A chill ran through me. What had we stumbled upon? And how many more of these threads were out there? What were they doing to people? I shut off the camera, my hands shaking. My dad's voice boomed up from downstairs. Dinner's ready, Josh. Get down here and eat. I took a shaky breath, trying to push down the wave of nausea rising in my stomach. I needed to keep it together, to figure this out. They didn't believe me, but I had to keep them safe somehow. I headed downstairs, the scent of food wafting up to meet me, but it turned my stomach now. As we sat around the table, my mom went on about her day, her cheerful voice grating against my raw nerves. I kept my head down, picking at my food, barely listening. My eyes drifted to the window and for a second I thought I saw a glint, just a tiny fleeting sparkle in the corner of the glass. I froze, my fork hovering mid air, my heart pounding in my chest. They were here too. I was sure of it. The threads were everywhere. I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the threads shimmering, intricate, waiting to catch the unwary. Somewhere in the early morning hours I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew I was jolted awake by the sound of shouting downstairs. I sat up, disoriented. The sun was barely up, its dim light seeping through the blinds. I threw the covers off and stumbled out of my bed, my body heavy with dreadful. The shouting grew louder, my dad's voice panicked and shaky. Stay calm. We're getting you to the car, okay? I rushed out of my room, taking the stairs two at a time. My parents were by the front door, my mom hunched over, clutching a blanket around her shoulders. She looked up at me as I approached and the sight of her face made my stomach drop. Her shoulder, where she'd been nicked by the thread, was beginning to unravel. The skin and flesh were peeling away in geometric, almost block like shapes. The wound was bloodless, neat, like pieces of her were simply falling out. Her eyes were wide filled with terror as she clutched the blanket to her chest, trying to hide the damage. Mom. I choked out horror, squeezing the air from my lungs. Oh my God. Dad shot me a look, his face pale. We're going to the hospital, he said, his voice strained but determined. Help me get her to the car. I nodded numbly, rushing to their side as my mom struggled to keep herself upright. She looked at me with a glassy, distant expression, her lips trembling.

[Allison]

It's.

[Josh]

It's like a puzzle, she whispered, her voice barely audible.

[Allison]

I'm. I'm missing pieces.

[Josh]

Don't talk. Everything will be okay. I urged, trying to keep my own voice steady as I grabbed her other arm. Together, my dad and I managed to half carry, half walk her to the car. My heart was racing, a sickening mix of fear and helplessness coursing through my veins. Once she was in the backseat, my dad turned to me, his eyes hard. You stay here, he ordered, pointing a finger at me. This is serious and I don't want anything to happen to you. Dad, I need to go with you. I protested, but he shook his head, already slamming the door shut. No, stay here. He barked before climbing into the driver's seat. I'll call you when I find out what's going on. I was left in the driveway as he sped off, the car's tires screeching against the pavement. They disappeared down the street as I stood frozen, the morning air cold and blue, biting against my skin. My mind whirled, trying to convince myself things would be okay. I turned and went back into the house, locking the door behind me. The place felt eerily quiet, every creak and groan of the wood settling amplified in the silence. As I walked through the living room, I saw it. A tiny, almost imperceptible glimmer by the window, catching the light like a sliver of glass. My stomach twisted. The threads were here. Inside the house. I backed away, my eyes never leaving that spot. My mind racing with panic. I ran up to my room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it as if that could keep the threads out. My breathing was shallow and I fought to keep myself from spiraling into full blown terror. I had to stay calm. I had to think. I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand. It was barely seven in the morning. Time seemed to stretch and compress all at once, warping around the horror unfolding. I couldn't stay here. I needed to do something. I didn't know what yet, but I couldn't just sit here and let this happen. My phone buzzed and I snatched it up, praying it was an update from my dad. But there was no new message, just an app notification. I sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching the phone, my heart pounding with the realization of how alone I was. My parents were gone, my best friend, unreachable. And somehow out there, those threads were spreading, surely claiming more lives in their quiet, methodical way. I had to do something. I had to find a way to stop this, to warn others, to find my parents, too. The phone slipped from my hand, landing with a soft thud on the carpet. I felt the edges of panic closing in my mind, screaming at me to act, to run, to fight back against the encroaching horror. But as I stared at the walls around me, I realized that even here, in the supposed safety of my own room, I was trapped. The threads were inside. They had already found their way in. I stumbled to the window and pulled back the curtain. Outside, the sun was still rising, casting long shadows across the lawn. In those shadows, I saw them. The glints. Dozens of them, scattered across the yard and along the sidewalk. They were everywhere, a barely visible web tightening around my life. My phone buzzed again, startling me out of my stupor. I snatched it up, hoping, praying for news. It was a text from my dad. The hospital's been quarantined. We can't leave right now. Don't leave the house. We love you. I dropped the phone, staring blankly at the message. The hospital quarantined. My heart sank. If the hospital was closed off, if they couldn't leave, then what did that mean for everything else? I collapsed to my knees, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I let them fall, my body shaking with silent sobs. For several minutes I stayed like that, curled up on the floor, the sunlight creeping across the room. It wasn't until the light caught on something, another glint right there in the corner, that I forced myself to stand, wiping my eyes. I had to move. I had to find my parents. Allison. And get far away from here. I grabbed my camera, slinging it over my shoulder, my heart pounding with fear and resolve. I didn't know the extent of what was waiting for me out there, but I couldn't stay here. The front door clicked shut behind me, the sound echoing in my ears like the closing of a vault. I stood on the porch, gripping the camera slung across my shoulder. The morning sun was fully up now, casting a harsh, unforgiving light over the neighborhood. My eyes swept across the familiar street, but it no longer felt like home. Threads were everywhere. They stood straight from the ground, rising like impossibly thin pillars from earth to sky. Their crystalline structure glinted in the sunlight, deceptively delicate, like shards of glass hanging in the air. They pierced through rooftops, skewered vehicles, and plunged into the ground, creating an eerie forest of shimmering lines. Each thread was static, unmoving, but the space around them felt alive with danger. I took a step forward, my eyes darting from one thread to another, trying to plot a path between them. Every motion had to be careful, deliberate. One misstep would leave me falling apart. The first body lay sprawled across the sidewalk, just a few houses down. I recognized her immediately. Mrs. Callahan. Her torso had been neatly opened up in symmetrical squares, her insides exposed like a grotesque art piece. Yet the blood was very minimal. The edges of the cut were clean, almost clinical, as if they had been made by an impossibly precise scalpel. I could see her heart and lungs twitching faintly within the cavity. She was either still alive or had just died. I stumbled back, bile rising in my throat, but I forced myself to look away and keep moving. As I made my way down the street, the true extent of the situation made itself apparent. Bodies, neighbors I had known all my life, littered the ground in varying states of disintegration. Some were already dead, their forms peeled apart into geometrically perfect sections. A man lay with his back against a tree, his face frozen in a grimace of pain, half of his head missing in a series of neat, fleshy blocks. His eyes stared vacantly at the sky, a single tear still visible in the corner of his remaining eye, reflecting the sunlight in a final, ironic glint that mirrored the threads. But it was the people who were still alive that sent me over the edge. A woman crawled along the pavement, one hand extended toward her house as pieces of her other arm dropped off in small, precise squares that left little blazed stamps as they tumbled away. They piled up around her, neat and orderly, an impossible contradiction to the chaos created by the threads. She gasped and whimpered, her voice raspy as she choked out a strangled cry for help. Help. Her eyes wide with terror. I knew I couldn't help her. I forced myself to look away, to ignore her pleas, and continued on. Further down the street, a boy close to my age sat on his porch in shock, his legs falling away. He stared at the ground in a daze, his hands gripping the edge of his chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. As I watched, a chunk of his calf, detached, falling with a wet plop onto the wooden steps, joining a pile of similarly shaped pieces that surrounded him like the Remnants of a broken statue. I pressed my hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. My mind reeled, trying to make sense of the horror that surrounded me, but there was no sense to be found. This was not some accident or natural disaster. It was something else entirely. The threads themselves glinted all around me, a constant promise of encroaching death. They stood like silent sentinels, their crystalline surfaces catching the light in dazzling displays that contrasted sharply with the bloody carnage they'd created. I stumbled forward, weaving between the threads as carefully as I could. My eyes locked on the path ahead. I turned a corner and finally saw it. The hospital. Or rather, what was left of it. My legs gave out and I collapsed to my knees, staring at the smoldering ruin. The building had been gutted by fire, blackened walls crumbling inward. Smoke billowed up into the air, carrying the acrid stench of burnt flesh. I gagged, my throat constricting as tears welled up in my eyes. They had been in there. My parents. Allison. They had been in there. No. Oh, no. No. The words tumbled out of me in a broken whisper as I stared, uncomprehending at the wreckage. Movement flickered in my peripheral vision. I turned my head, too numb to react with anything more than a sluggish blink. That's when I saw them. The men in black tactical gear moving down the street with an eerie calm, the one in front carrying a strange metallic backpack that trailed a thin hose leading to an even thinner, long nozzle. He approached a thread, cautiously, lifting the nozzle with a gloved hand. It dispersed what could only have been a single drop of liquid that quickly enveloped the thread. I watched, mystified, as the thread dissolved, leaving behind nothing but a faint wisp of smoke. The man worked methodically, moving from one thread to another, their expressions hidden behind dark visors as they cleared a path. Who were they? What were they doing here? They obviously knew something about what was going on. One of them glanced in my direction, his gaze locking onto mine. His head tilted slightly, as if considering something. Then he nodded to his team, and they began to move toward me. Panic surged through me, and I tried to stand, to run, but my legs were like lead. No. Get away from me. I screamed, thrashing against the hands that grabbed my arms. They lifted me effortlessly, dragging me toward a vehicle parked nearby. Its rear hatch opened the, revealing a small, dark compartment that looked more like a cage than anything else. I struggled, kicking out with all my strength, but it didn't even slow them. They shoved me inside, the metal walls closing around me with a cold Final click. The last thing I saw before the hatch shut completely was the threads glinting in the sunlight. Standing tall and unmoving against the burning, bloody landscape. The vehicle rocked slightly as it began to move. A few moments later, a hissing noise filled the dark space as my consciousness began to slip away.

[Agent Conroy]

Warning.

[Narrator]

Signal interruption detected. Signal connection restored.

[Agent Conroy]

The hum of the transport vehicle's engine reverberated through the cabin, a constant low drone that always seemed to underscore the gravity of an impending operation. This wasn't just another retrieval or neutralization. This was something different, something bigger. We all knew it the moment the orders came down. The Redwood Bureau wasn't sending us in to deal with just any anomaly. The files we'd received were more comprehensive than than usual, more detailed. This is something that generally puts me on edge, as information is something not shared freely within the Bureau. Agent Latham stood at the front of the cabin, his hand resting on the holster of his sidearm as he addressed the team. His face was all sharp angles, barely visible beneath his helmet and tactical gear, but his voice carried the weight of a authority and experience. He was the kind of leader who never showed fear, but the way he spoke now made it clear we were at the forefront of something big. Listen up, latham began, his voice cutting through the rumble of the engine. What we're dealing with here is an event of unknown origins. Thin, almost invisible threads. They're all over the town and surrounding area, and one touch is enough to take you out. Clean cuts deep, fast. There's no coming back from it. I glanced around the cabin, catching the tense expressions of the other agents. We were all seasoned, but the descriptions in the briefing had been unsettling, to say the least. I'd seen the photos, victims slowly unraveling, their bodies neatly divided into geometric pieces, as if sliced apart with surgical precision. That's what the threads did. They cut you apart piece by piece. The town's already locked down, latham continued, pulling up the digital map on his tablet. The display flickered to life, showing a satellite view of the town, a small dot on the map isolated from the rest of the world. We've intercepted all outgoing communications. No one's getting in or out will make sure of it. But containment isn't our only priority. Our mission is intel. The Bureau wants information, and ideally, a source. Agent Moore shifted in his seat beside me, muttering under his breath. If it's locked down, why the hell are we going in at all? Latham shot him a glance. Because that's the way it is. You want to be reassigned? Moore shook his head no and found the floor suddenly fascinating. No one spoke after that. We all knew the Bureau's methods. They didn't like loose ends. If there was even a shred of uncertainty, they'd send us in to clean up the mess. Messes include uncooperative agents, and that's what missions usually are. Containment and cleanup. Cold, calculated, and final. Latham tapped the screen again, pulling up an image of the hospital. First target, highest concentration of infected. We lock it up from the outside, torch it, and move on. No entry. No rescues. They're already gone. And we're not taking chances with unknown secondary effects. I shifted in my seat, the burden of the mission setting in. We weren't here to save anyone. We were here to erase the problem. I wasn't a fan of these operations. The town already looked dead by the time we pulled in as the transport rolled to a stop on the outskirts, the world outside the windows was unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that feels wrong, like an empty void where life should be. I could feel it pressing in on us as we stepped out into the evening air, weapons ready, eyes scanning for movement. But there was nothing. No people, no animals. Just empty streets bathed in the even light of the sun and the countless glints of what the reports had been calling threads. Latham motioned for us to fall into formation, his eyes sharp as he took point. We moved quickly, our boots pounding against the asphalt, the noise eerily loud. In the stillness, I could feel the tension in the air, like the town itself was waiting for something to happen. Stay sharp, latham murmured, his voice low but carrying through the comms. We know what's out here. One wrong step and the lab geeks are observing your painful death. The hospital loomed ahead of us, the quiet facade unbefitting the horror and chaos I was sure was unfolding inside. From the outside, it was just a typical small town hospital, bland, utilitarian, with little to no signs of anything out of the ordinary. But we knew we had the intel. The threads had taken over, spreading through the building as if the high concentration of infected were attracting them. Latham nodded toward the building. Lock it down and burn it. We fanned out, each of us moving to one of the building's entrances. I reached mine quickly, hands steady as I secured the heavy duty chains around the door handles. The metal links clinked as I pulled them tight and connected them with a heavy round lock. East entrance secure, I called over the comms. As I stepped back, glancing toward Latham, the others echoed similar reports. Light it up. I watched as the fire spread flames licking hungrily at the sides of the building. The heat was intense, even from where we stood, and soon the sound of glass shattering and wood splintering filled the air. The hospital was going up fast, burning like a pyre in a solemn ceremony. I heard no screams, saw no movement inside, just the sound of the fire consuming everything. Whatever had been in there was gone soon enough, reduced to ash and rubble. Latham watched the blaze with a grim expression, his face illuminated by the flickering light. Phase one complete. Let's move on. We turned our backs on the burning building, the smoke rising thick and black into the sky. The mission was far from over. We had a lot left to do. The streets ahead were seemingly devoid of life, but I knew that was a lie. The infection was everywhere. It just wasn't something you could see with the naked eye. Not immediately, at least. The sun would highlight them like shimmering heat if you caught the right angle. I kept my eyes peeled, scanning every inch of the street as we advanced in formation. Then a glint, a flash of light so quick I almost didn't catch it. It was faint but unmistakable, a thread, almost invisible, protruding from the ground where my next step would have been barely detectable, unless you were moving carefully and taking your time. Hold, I said quietly, raising my hand to signal the team. Latham stopped immediately, his gaze following the direction of my outstretched arm. The thread stood tall, reaching high into the sky, no thicker than a human hair, but we all knew what it could do. One touch and the body would begin to unravel like a fraying piece of fabric. More. Get the apparatus ready, Lytha, graham ordered, his voice low but steady. Moore didn't hesitate, unslinging the godshed unit from his back. The device was clunky, a heavy metal backpack with a thin nozzle attached to a strange hose. It was the only thing we had that could neutralize the threads. Maybe the only thing that could. Every drop of the Godshed was precious, measured, and calculated. Too much and we'd all be answering for it. Moore approached the thread, cautiously, positioning the nozzle above the thread and released a microscopic drop of God Shed. The reaction was instantaneous. The thread sizzled, a faint hiss of energy escaping as it disintegrated into nothing. Well, that worked, moore muttered, stepping back. How many more do you think there are? Latham scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the seemingly empty streets. Too many to count, he said, his voice grim. We could use that whole thing and probably not make a dent. I felt a shiver run down my spine as we moved forward again, my eyes constantly searching for any nearly invisible thing in my path. They were scattered throughout the town, covering the streets and alleys like a hidden web of death. Every few steps we'd spot another one, and Moore would carefully neutralize it with another drop of Godshed. The process was methodical, each drop carefully placed, each thread gone as mysteriously as it had came. But the further we went, the more I realized that was no effective way to move through this place. We began to backtrack, heading back to the truck to regroup and call back to Command, requesting an updated directive. With the hospital back in view, I heard movement, faint but unmistakable. Someone was still here. Latham, I whispered, coming to a halt. The rest of the team froze, and Latham's hand shot up, signaling silence. We could hear the voice of someone further up, mostly unintelligible, but I could clearly make out the word no being repeated. There, latham said, pointing down an alley that led back toward the hospital. We moved as quickly as possible, but soon enough he saw us as well. He looked to be in his late teens, though I couldn't see any of the telltale signs he'd come in contact with a thread. He seemed almost in a catatonic state, watching us wordlessly from the ground ground as we tried to make our way to him, having to stop several times while more cleared the threads, blocking our path. With the path clear, we looked to Latham for confirmation, and after a nod, we circled around him for the first time. He tried to move but seemed to be struggling. As I grabbed under one of his arms, he began shouting incoherently. His words were garbled, panic taking over, but I caught fragments. Something about his friend, something about threads. It was clear he knew. Get him in containment, latham said, his voice sharp. We need him alive. As we secured him in a containment pod on the back of our apc, Latham tapped his comm, signaling the other Bureau team stationed at the perimeter of the town. Proceed with phase three. Tighten the net. The Bureau had locked down the entire town before we even set foot inside it. Roadblocks had been set up on every major and minor route in and out, each one manned by a team equipped with God shed units and heavy weaponry. The goal was clear. Nothing was getting out. No people, no threads. Nothing. We weren't here to save this town. We were here to seal its fate. With the boy secure, we resumed our sweep, the streets growing darker as the last traces of sun began to set. We didn't speak much. There wasn't anything left to say. We had a job to do and the only way out was to finish it. We moved cautiously through the town, our eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. The threads were everywhere, standing tall between and through buildings, telephone poles, trees. Delicate and nearly invisible, yet deadly. Every so often, more would raise the God shed apparatus. Apparatus releasing a single drop onto a thread. Each time the reaction was the same, a faint sizzle followed by the thread vanishing into nothing. We retreated back to the vehicle and were heading toward the perimeter now, where the Bureau's teams had already set up a forward base. As we approached the roadblock, I could see the vehicles parked in a neat line, lights flickering in the darkness. Status? Latham asked, his voice steady as he addressed the perimeter. Team leader. Perimeter is secure, the team leader replied. No threads have crossed the line so far, but they're close. Real close. I glanced around, my eyes catching the faint glint of a thread just a few feet from the roadblock. It stood there, an impossibly tall, silent sentinel seeming to be watching us. More stepped forward, the godshed apparatus already in hand, and with a single drop, the thread was gone. The threads are spreading faster than we anticipated, the team leader continued. I don't think we can stop them. They're likely going to cover the entire town by morning. Latham nodded, his expression hard. That's why we're here. The Bureau has given us a clear objective. We're to contain this. The threads stay here until we understand what they are and where they come from. That phrasing stood out to me until Such a specific word and I didn't like the implication. But I knew better than to say anything. It's painfully obvious the Bureau doesn't want to stop the spread of the threads. They wanted to understand it, to control it. And I've seen more than one agent become expendable when they start growing a conscience. We'll sweep the remaining sectors, latham said, his gaze scanning the darkened streets ahead. Hold the line here. Nothing gets through the perimeter. Nothing. The team leader gave a curt nod and we moved forward. Once again, I had a strong feeling we were going to be here a while, and I wasn't happy about it. As terrifying and far reaching as these threads were, this assignment was damn boring. The most action we've seen here was burning the hospital. I'm itching for some combat. Hell, I'd be happy to find a holdout of survivors at this point.

[Narrator]

Redwood Bureau phenomenon 0363 Glass threads threat Level Apocalyptic the Redwood Bureau knew almost immediately that they couldn't contain this. The threads had spread too fast, too far, and the consequences were unlike anything they'd prepared for their initial efforts to quarantine the town didn't slow it down. If anything, the phenomenon seemed to accelerate. People unraveled, quite literally, and the threads continued to multiply. The Bureau's response? Erase everything, burn it down. The official story you've heard about the massive wildfire that swept through the region blamed on climate change, was another carefully crafted lie. They even went so far as to hire crisis actors to pose as displaced residents, Airing interviews on any major news network, running the story about how they lost Lost their homes to the fire. They talked about relocation efforts, about finding a new place to settle. None of that was real. The town's population never made it out. Most were consumed by the threads long before the fires were set. It wasn't just the town. The Bureau burned everything, including the surrounding forests. The flames reduced the landscape to ash, and even that wasn't enough. They sectioned off the area, declaring it a quarantine zone. And to this day, it remains under strict guard. But make no mistake, the threads are still there. They're still spreading. Slowly but surely, the fire was only to cover it up. What the Bureau did next, though, that's where things get interesting. The reports show that the Bureau wasn't just reacting to the threat. They were studying it. Every step of the way, they gathered data, experimenting with various methods to control or neutralize the threads. One method in particular stands out. Godshed. They used it carefully, injecting microscopic drops of the substance into the threads themselves. And it worked. The threads dissolved, unable to stand against the destructive nature of RBPs. The process was slow, and it required a precision that couldn't be implemented en masse. More interesting still is the apparatus they used to contain God Shed. It wasn't man made. The material certainly isn't from the periodic table, or the substance would annihilate it at a molecular level. To be clear, all signs indicate that they were, in fact using the same substance from our previously leaked report and not an artificial copy of it. That can only mean they've found something or some entity out there that connects the God Shed case to its origin. This is a worrying notion. And yet, for all their efforts, the Bureau still has no idea what these threads really are. Theories range from an interdimensional invasion to a natural phenomenon that we've simply never encountered before. But the truth? They don't know know. They're guessing, just like the rest of us. The only thing they know for sure is that the threads are still spreading, and that no matter how much they destroy and contain, the phenomenon has continued they may have bought themselves some time, but my hypothesis is that one day they'll appear somewhere else. The Bureau thinks they have it under control, as they always do, but I've seen enough to know better. This isn't something you can contain or explain. It's something far beyond our understanding. And if we don't find answers sooner than later, this phenomenon has the potential to be world ending. World ending?