The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A derelict Soviet research submarine lies beached in the middle of a vast, arid salt flat, its rusting hull cracked open like an eggshell, umm, revealing a jumble of mangled pipes and twisted metal inside. The air's scorching hot, with the sun beating down relentlessly from directly overhead, casting an intense, blinding glare over everything. The stillness of the air's oppressive, like... the only sound's a low, steady hum of unknown origin, and somehow, a perfectly intact chunk of Antarctic ice shelf has been transplanted here, its icy surface gleaming in the sunlight, showing no signs of melting despite the blistering heat.