The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Half-submerged Buddhist stupas are scattered across a salt-crusted lakebed, their intricately carved surfaces reflecting the pale, crimson light of the setting sun. Uh, the air's heavy with the smell of desiccated mud and still, with no wind or sound of any kind, except for this low, constant hum like the reverberation of a chant. Like, the lakebed itself seems to be covered in a thick layer of what looks like shattered LCD screens, crunching under... whatever, and the sky above is a deep, burning shade of pink, with the constellation of Cygnus X-1 perfectly mirrored on the ground below in shimmering, molten lava.