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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of cracked, concrete sculptures are scattered across a deserted, dusty tennis court under a pale blue sky. Umm, the air's super still, smelling like old rubber and concrete, with the Eiffel Tower somehow integrated into a massive, fossilized ammonite shell, half-buried in the court like it's been here forever. Bioluminescent vines are snaking up the shell, displaying scrolling log messages from some 4chan thread about "The Black Knight Satellite Transmissions" in Arial font, while a massive, impossible crystal formation juts out from the nearby scoreboard, its facets reflecting an image of the moon that isn't in the sky.