The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rusty, retro-futuristic trains are just suspended in mid-air, like, casually hovering above the tracks in this massive, abandoned railyard at dusk. The air's dry, smelling like grease and smoke, with an intense, pulsating electric charge emanating from the trains that's somehow syncing with the aurora borealis dancing in the sky. It's casually raining fish bones here, and uh, the FLAMINGODAO logo is etched into the side of a nearby train, next to a cryptic message that just reads "All Aboard for Cicada 3301". The sky's a weird shade of pink.