The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rusted gates lie open in front of a massive, abandoned film studio, like, it's huge, with empty sound stages stretching out in every direction. The air's dry, with a smell of old popcorn and dust, and it's super still, like there's no wind at all. A camera on a dolly somehow glides smoothly down a track, like it's filming something, despite nothing being attached to it, and it passes right through a thick layer of cobwebs without disturbing them. The sun beats down in the late morning, casting a harsh glow over everything.