The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti-covered shipping containers are stacked all over a massive, abandoned dockyard. Like, the air's thick with the smell of saltwater and there's this constant, low-pitched hum of seagulls flying overhead. The sun's high in the sky, beating down on the rusty containers, and the sound of gentle lapping of the waves against the dock's edge is kinda soothing... somehow, despite being miles from the ocean, a steady tide of water keeps flooding in and out of the dockyard, like it's still connected to the sea or something.