The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frozen cattails are swaying gently in the breeze on the surface of a vast, perfectly still mercury lake, reflecting a sky that's a deep, burning crimson. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of ozone-free smoke, and it's got that charged, electric feel to it, like before a storm. A faint hum, similar to a Tibetan singing bowl, seems to be emanating from a series of metallic rods jutting out of the lake's surface, each etched with cryptic Enochian script. Shafts of sunlight are illuminating the rods, casting an intricate pattern of light across the surrounding, eerily silent landscape.