The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Ancient, peeling billboards tower above a deserted, dust-covered highway, the faded advertisements featuring cryptic symbols and codes from the Cicada 3301 puzzles. Uh, the air's thick with the smell of exhaust and ozone-free static, like before a thunderstorm. As the sky above shifts through a kaleidoscope of colors, a giant, blazing chunk of the Sun somehow tears free from the horizon and smolders on the cracked asphalt, sending waves of intense heat and distortion through the surrounding air. In the distance, the hum of what sounds like a chorus of didgeridoos reverberates through the landscape.