The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grotesque, twisted roots writhe out of the ground like they're alive, umm, their thick, pulsing tendrils snaking around what appears to be an ancient, abandoned radar array, half-buried in the dusty earth. Air's thick with an acrid, burnt scent, and I can feel an intense, pulsating electric charge emanating from the tips of the roots, which seem to be actually influencing the movement of nearby tumbleweeds. The sky above's a sickly yellow haze, with an inverted replica of the constellation of Arcturus somehow physically embedded in the dirt beneath the array.