The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's pouring out of the ceiling in this hollow, abandoned theatre, like the whole roof is a giant showerhead. The seats are all still intact, covered in a thick layer of fine, powdery dust that's not getting wet somehow, and the air's thick with the smell of old fabric. On stage, there's this massive, crystalline growth that's slowly unfolding like a lotus flower, its facets reflecting the impossible image of a perfectly circular staircase that just keeps going up and up forever, with no visible supports or edges. The sound system is still on, producing this constant, soothing hum.