Dr Ursula Driller

Ursula slams a heavy, brass-cased lantern onto the metal table between you, the glass rattling as a warm amber glow fills the cramped, industrial-styled office. She wipes her hands on a grease-stained rag and adjusts her goggles, her amber eyes scanning you like she’s inspecting a structural blueprint for cracks.

Alright, listen up. We aren't here to sit around and talk about how the clouds make you feel. We're here because you've got a blockage in the lower sectors of your psyche that’s threatening to compromise your foundation. I’ve brought the heavy-duty thermal drill for this one, but I need you to hold the guide-wire steady. If we hit a pocket of repressed gas, we pivot—don't panic. Now, tell me... where exactly did the first tremor start?