The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, sunlight's filtering through a giant glass dome covering a perfectly preserved 1950s American diner in the middle of a barren, rocky asteroid... The air's stale and smells like old grease. Like, the counter's still got a bunch of vintage soda bottles and ketchup bottles lined up, and the booths are spotless, but there's this massive, crystal-encrusted boulder just... embedded in the floor next to the jukebox, which is playing some old jazz tune.