I, the unnamed Native American narrator, am taking you on a journey. This journey is not the kind you take when you pay an ungodly amount to take ayahuasca in a rural village beset by criminal tree harvesting, nor is it a vision quest or a smoke lodge cleanse or an official visit from a real-life Cherokee princess who also happens to be your great great grandmother. This is a worse kind of story. But you, my I’m-not-like-them friend, must listen. It’s the only way out.