The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Bottles of ketchup and mayonnaise litter the ground around a massive, crashed airliner's fuselage, like, the whole thing's been torn open and is now serving as some kind of makeshift shelter for a bunch of hermit crabs. They're just chillin', scuttling around the wreckage, some of them are covered in tiny, crude sombreros made out of twisted-up Coke cans and what looks like dried seaweed. The air's got this overpowering stench of jet fuel, and it's thick with flies buzzing around the crabs' snack stash - a giant pile of rotting pizza crusts somehow still steaming hot. The sky's a weird, sickly yellow color.