The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti-scrawled, abandoned construction equipment's scattered across the dusty floor of a massive, partially-built stadium, like it was just abandoned mid-construction. The air's dry, with a smell of hot asphalt and freshly-cut grass, and there's this low hum of machinery coming from the... uh, hundreds of identical, old-school satellite dishes embedded into the upper deck seating, all pointed at this miniature replica of the Riemann Sphere hovering above the field. The sky above is a bright, clear blue, and it's freaking windy as hell.