The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Half-buried in the ground, an ancient orrery is slowly rotating in a lush, vibrant meadow. Umm, wildflowers are somehow blooming in mid-air around it, suspended in place as if stuck in a perpetual, gentle whirlwind. The air's warm and heavy with the scent of honey, and a pale, silver sun is hovering at the horizon, refusing to rise or set despite the passing of time. The orrery's brass components are etched with cryptic, Enochian script that's somehow altering the local gravity, causing the surrounding flowers to lean inward as if worshiping the celestial model.