The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti-covered shipping containers are stacked haphazardly in a dusty, abandoned cargo yard, like, partially buried in the ground. The air's dry and there's a smell of diesel fuel and burnt wiring, and I can hear the sound of machinery humming in the distance, even though everything looks totally still. Water's inexplicably seeping out of a rusted, old satellite dish on the ground and pooling into a perfect, miniature replica of the Sephirot from the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, which just seems to be... made out of the water itself or something. The sky above is a pale, overcast gray.