The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's slowly draining out of this massive, ornate baptismal font in the center of a deserted, Baroque-style chapel, the sound echoing off the stone columns. The air's heavy with the scent of old incense, and the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows is casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor. Uh, the font itself is somehow regenerating the water it's losing, like... it's just re-filling from nowhere, and a miniature, impossible staircase has formed in the ripples on its surface, descending into the depths of the font. The atmosphere is really still, like there's no air movement at all.