The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, the sunlight's streaming in at an angle like it's morning, casting long shadows across the ornate, mirrored surfaces of what appears to be an abandoned Baroque opera house... A bunch of old, dusty velvet seats are arranged around the room, with crystal chandeliers suspended from the high, curved ceiling, but what catches my eye is the perfectly still, massive wave of solidified water arcing over the entire orchestra pit, holding a collection of ancient-looking gilded candelabras in place. The air is dry and stale, with a faint scent of old perfume. The sound of complete silence is kind of deafening.