The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's seeping through cracks in the worn, black asphalt of an empty rooftop parking lot, reflecting the pale yellow sun setting over a cluster of skyscrapers in the distance. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of wet earth and there's this weird stillness, like the atmosphere's electrically charged. Snowflakes fall upwards from the lot, piling onto the abandoned cars in perfectly symmetrical patterns, casting microshadows in the fading light. One car's rusty license plate reads "LFOWLS" in flaking letters, while a cryptic, spray-painted message on the side reads "NO INVERSE CORRECTIONS".