It stretches upwards around 100m, metal painted in matte blacks and grays. A battered lovechild of the towers that hold up power lines and a radio mast, it looms over the landscape and the buildings beneath it. Metric was agreed upon early for unit, even though guesses put the location somewhere above the 40th parallel on the north american continent and no more accurate. It must be a broadcast station, but what it broadcasts and why is a mystery. The buildings speak of future as imagined by the seventies, with both the stylistic and practical ups and downs that brings. The location is high, just high enough to call it a mountain, and the soil is thin where it's not bare rock in the 150m of clearing around the tower. Below, down a path with tire ruts and pines and sandy beige soil, a town will appear in the valley. The town will be empty a while. The 'people' who will fill it will never seem to them quite human.
None of them remember how they got here. 5 of them, a mix of genders and ages and backgrounds. All of them woke up in the complex. All of them start calling it the station. All of them just want to know what the hell is going on. They are
