You are in a small northern town, or what remains of it. There are a few ruined homes, now largely reclaimed by the pines, and an ancient dock that you wouldn’t trust to carry your weight out over the water. Lake Superior is calm, and laps quietly at a small beach covered in pebbles. No engine sounds on the horizon, no motor hums. You may be hours from civilization, you aren’t entirely sure.
All seems peaceful, and if it weren’t for the remains of Leroy Perch you might be tempted to relax by the lakeside.