The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain's pounding against a sleek, metallic surface, casting ripples across a shallow pool of liquid silver that's filling a massive, abandoned radio telescope dish. The air's heavy with ozone, and I can hear the crackle of electrical discharge as, somehow, the liquid's forming a precise, gemstone-encrusted diagram of the Sephiroth – like it's being etched by an invisible hand. Uh, the surrounding hills are a deep, burnt orange, and the sun's hanging low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the dish. The sound of whispering static is emanating from the diagram.