The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dappled sunlight filters through a tangle of vines covering a decrepit, Romanesque aqueduct, as if nature is attempting to reclaim it. The air is thick with the scent of wet stone and blooming jasmine, and I can feel a faint electric charge in the air. Beneath the aqueduct, a perfectly still pool of water reflects an impossible geometry – the Flower of Life pattern is somehow being maintained by ripples from a single, stationary drop of water hovering just above the pool's surface. Umm, the silence is oppressive, punctuated only by the distant, low rumble of thunder.