The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, the air's really thick with the smell of cooking grease and there's this huge, old-fashioned diner just sitting in the middle of a vast, dry lakebed. Water's steadily flowing upwards from the cracked earth, like it's being pushed by some unseen force, and it's getting absorbed into the diner's walls. The sky's a bright, electric blue and the sun's pretty high up, casting minimal shadows on the dusty ground. Inside the diner, through the windows, I can see a bunch of worn-out, vinyl booths and a counter lined with stools that seem to be slowly, steadily rotating on their own.