The weather. Tomorrow, expect a biting cold front. Hmm, how naughty. I wonder what I'll be

wearing or taking off. The night will be wild and untamed. Expect heavy, lashing rain

that'll soak you to the skin. By Monday, temperatures will rise slowly but surely reaching

their peak in the afternoon.

Not in the mood for miserable weather?

Fly cheaply to Turkey with Sun Express.

Sun Express, non-stop sunshine.

In the shimmering psychospaceace between perception and the unknown, there exists a world not accessible by plane, train, or spacecraft, but by molecule.

Dymethyltryptamine, DMT, the so-called spirit molecule, has earned its reputation as a chemical key to an entirely different dimension. In mere moments, those who inhale its vapor find

themselves blasted beyond the limits of language and reason, tumbling through a fractal landscape,

and staring wide-eyed at the impossible.

And waiting there, in that kaleidoscopic void, the whispering architects of hyperspace,

who, according to countless psychonauts, greet travelers with messages, mischief,

and sometimes unnerving mirth.

Are they figments of a chemically altered brain, or emissaries, from a hidden layer of reality?

This case file joined the theorists as they free fall into the cerebral psychosphere without packing their metaphysical parachutes in

DMT and machine elves.

Music Welcome to Alien theorist theorizing Case File 361.

I'm Braden.

I'm Zell.

I'm Dan.

Oh, dude, I, you know what?

...