I am in the sequel to The Thing, which is set in the ancient Indian city of Varanasi. Its dark, warren-like streets provides a stark but suitably surreal alternative to the isolation of Antarctica.

The creature has absorbed so many people that it was beginning to show next stages of its evolution. At one point I walked in on three or four imitations seeming to be uniting into the folds of massive cerebrum in the corner of a darkened room. I run.