The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Glacial runoff water cascades down the surface of a colossal, crystal-encrusted sphere... the air's crisp and cold with a faint smell of ozone-free, burned wiring. The sphere's partially buried in the tundra, but the exposed portion seems to be slowly, steadily turning like it's being manipulated by some invisible force. Umm, wispy strands of cirrus cloud are snagging on jagged crystal outcroppings and the faint hum of 4chan /x/ board creepypastas can be heard in the air. Thin icicles are reforming with precise, almost mathematical precision on its surface.