Deep in the outer reaches of our solar system, a British research crew staffs a remote outpost on Pluto. They have lost contact with Earth and their shuttle home is late. Very late. As days blur into an indistinguishable haze, the crew members find themselves caught in something far more disturbing than mere isolation.

Things begin to appear from the darkness, memories refuse to stay, and the nature of reality begins to shift. What starts as mundane waiting descends into a psychological labyrinth where cause and effect become meaningless, where the past bleeds into an uncertain present, and where each character must confront the terrifying possibility that they may no longer know who they are or if they’ll ever return home.

McDowall’s genre-defying masterwork blends science fiction with raw human drama, creating a theatrical experience that’s equal parts cerebral puzzle and visceral nightmare. As the crew’s routines disintegrate and their relationships fray, we’re drawn into an increasingly unstable world where the greatest threat isn’t the hostile environment outside, but the unravelling reality within. Chilling yet tender, X asks profound questions about identity, memory and what holds us together when everything familiar dissolves. In the tradition of Beckett’s existential waiting games, but shot through with contemporary anxiety, this is theatre that will gnaw away at you long after the lights come up.