[39: video]
Today Mark is walking up and down a snowy New York street, circa 1935 or so, knocking on doors. He's already heard from other transmissions that all of the worlds are empty, but he wants to verify it for himself. "This is the neighborhood where I grew up," he says, panning the camera over the unmarked sidewalk. "I've never seen it so empty."
Later in the day he'll make his way through the rifts to a somewhat more rural area, marked by the silhouette of a lighthouse and the sound of crashing waves. The emptiness is less eerie here--most of the homes would be locked up for the off-season anyway. Mark is poking around in the only lit building, riffling through his own filing cabinet in an attempt to determine the timeline in which this place exists. "None of this makes any sense..."
Later in the day he'll make his way through the rifts to a somewhat more rural area, marked by the silhouette of a lighthouse and the sound of crashing waves. The emptiness is less eerie here--most of the homes would be locked up for the off-season anyway. Mark is poking around in the only lit building, riffling through his own filing cabinet in an attempt to determine the timeline in which this place exists. "None of this makes any sense..."