FIRST INVESTIGATION

[bathymetric]

Friday, the deadline for The Professor's generous offer, dawns like any other. The automated cycle of lights, the only real indication of time passing here on the seafloor, passes into an imitation of daylight with a series of clicks and the hum of bulbs intensifying their glow.

Just last night, spirits were high as many of you watched movies and chatted. But as you leave your rooms today, there's something... foreboding hanging in the air. A quiet stillness, almost unnatural.

... Eh, it's probably fine, right?