The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Icy stalactites hang from a low-hanging cave ceiling, like... right above an enormous, undisturbed sheet of perfectly flat water. The air's heavy with the scent of cedar and smoke, and the water's surface seems to be somehow... unwinding itself into threads that get pulled back into the rock walls, reabsorbing silently. The sun's not visible, but there's a soft, diffused light, and uh, the water's edge is lapping against a collection of ancient, heavily weathered, wooden printing blocks, half-buried in the stone floor.