The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A half-buried, Art Deco-style entrance to some ancient underground bunker or vault is reflecting the pale light of the full moon overhead... Umm, the air is crisp and dry, smelling like old concrete and a hint of diesel fuel. As I watch, the entrance's doors slowly slide open, revealing an impossibly steep, almost 90-degree angle staircase descending into darkness, the individual stairs seeming to fold in on themselves like an Escher print, somehow allowing water to flow up them without violating gravity. The silence is absolute, broken only by the faint hum of... some unseen machinery.