The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's gushing out of a series of ornate, baroque fountains within a grand, domed conservatory, like... the air's thick with humidity and the scent of blooming jasmine. Outside, through the intricate, stained-glass ceiling, I see a crescent moon that's simultaneously in its waxing and waning phases, hanging low in the pale silver sky. The atmosphere's charged with anticipation, the air vibrating with the soft hum of... uh, something. Air's still, but there's a gentle tremor beneath my feet, like the earth itself is alive.