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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti-covered skateboard ramps rise out of the middle of a sprawling, abandoned velodrome, umm, like they just sprouted out of the cracked track. The air is heavy and damp with a sweet scent of blooming jasmine, despite it being what appears to be the middle of a clear, bright day. Water is somehow "un-sticking" itself from the ramps, forming little droplets that slide back up onto the ramps, where they rejoin the main flow, forming an infinite, quivering cycle. Shattered TV screens scattered across the infield are silently looping glitch art patterns...