Stott's Module

Prefabricated shelter of dented metal walls angled against the unstable landscape of Eden. Diamond-shaped windows scatter harsh light across the cramped interior’s metallic surfaces, casting sharp geometric shadows. The air hums with recycled radiation, carrying the scent of burnt wiring and the metallic tang of Stott’s unwashed survival suit. Heat from the compact life-support unit warms the immediate vicinity while the walls themselves remain cold to the touch, condensation beading along seams. A single workstation flickers with failing instrument lights, its screen displaying fractured dimensional schematics. The space smells of fear and desperation—Stott’s boots leave faint prints on the gridded floor plates, each step a testament to 183 days of confinement between looming mandrel threats and the immensity of dimensional collapse.