The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sleek, chrome-plated diner is just... embedded in the trunk of this colossal, uprooted tree, which is still covered in dirt and moss from wherever it was torn from. The air's got a greasy, burger smell mixed with this rich, loamy earth scent from the exposed roots. Seagulls are perched all over the diner, silently staring in through the windows as the sky above remains a pale, washed-out blue, and the sun is... somehow physically merged with a nearby powerline pylon, its corona crackling with electricity. The air is totally still and humid.