The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gnarly chunks of pumice stone and volcanic glass litter a barren, gray beach. Like, the air's thick with a sulfurous smell, and the only sound is the gentle lapping of turquoise waves against the shore. In the distance, I see a section of the beach's shoreline slowly peeling away from the earth, folding back like a giant curl of paper, and re-attaching itself without making a sound, sending up a small plume of ash each time. The sky above is a bright, piercing blue, with the sun beating down like it's high noon.