The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A Soviet-era Yak-40 airliner, partially disassembled, sits on the surface of a perfectly still, salt-crusted dry lakebed, with crystal-clear water somehow flowing uphill into the plane's open cargo bay. The air's heavy with the smell of dried mud and diesel fuel, and this low-frequency hum's vibrating through the soles of my shoes. Umm, tiny, iridescent pools of water are forming on the nearby shore as the surrounding air thickens with an electric charge. The sky above is this pale, serene blue, with the sun at high noon casting no shadows anywhere.