The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Late afternoon sunlight casts an intense beam through the ornate latticework of a Baroque-era orrery, like, it's got these intricately carved wooden spheres representing planets and stars. The air's dry and musty, thick with the scent of old leather and wood polish, as a faint ticking noise resonates through the stillness. Uh, outside the dome above, a perfectly circular slice of sky seems to be stuck on repeat, cycling through the exact same wispy cloud formations every few seconds, while water trickles upwards from the central axis, somehow reappearing at the wooden spheres as if they're absorbing it.