He felt flickers of attention reach him now. New stimulus had touched the minds of these trippers. Something had broken the unbroken cycle of their bad trip. He wished he could dim the harsh light of this tunnel but the music would have to do. Minds were opening to him. They were still fucking freaked out, but at least they were aware of him. They’d noticed the music. They’d noticed something new, and they were reaching out. They were crying without words for help, and they were tripping so hard, each of their trips unique, each of their calibration phases a totally separate psychedelic story, all tinged with the chaos and confusion of a first timer going through this overwhelming experience without expecting it, while thinking they were about to die.

He took the opening, sent soothing thoughts out to all those around him.

Shhh… It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be just fine. Deep breaths. Relax…

More minds turned towards him then. He was getting their attention. They were still tripping so goddamn hard. He could feel it hitting him even harder, as more of them focused on him, reached out to him, projected their thoughts on him.

You’re healthy. You’re OK. You’re just a little bit high. He sent them smiles, gentle laughter, soothing, comforting thoughts. That’s why this is so strange. But it’s all fine. Just breathe into it. It’ll all be juuuust fine…

He took another breath himself, deep into his lungs, then exhaled it again, in and out, letting them feel the breath as it went in and out of him, beckoning them to follow.

He could do this. He’d talked people down from bad trips. Plenty of people.

Well, maybe not three hundred at once.

The music slowly changed, White Sands fading seamlessly, right into Silent Sun’s warm, beatless, ambient radiance; the most healing soothing music he could imagine, the kind of music that bathed you in goodness like the first sunny day in June that you could lie out and let your skin soak up the rays falling from the sky.

He felt it touch their minds, touch more minds, and almost the whole room was aware of him now, and a few of them were changing, were shifting, were calming just a tiny bit, the tenor of their calibrations changing, settling from frantic panicked nightmares to something else, something they could handle.

And then the rest were reaching out to him, dozens of them, reaching pleadingly, scores of them, begging him to clear the poison from their lungs, to clear the madness from their minds.

He took a breath to center himself and the chaos of their minds beat against him. The room wobbled and he stumbled back against the wall.

It’s going to be fine, he sent.