The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Snowflakes are piling up on a vast, glass-enclosed arboretum, the air inside is heavy with the scent of blooming orchids, and the humidity's making the glass fog up from the inside. Like, the sun's high overhead, casting a warm, golden light on the dense foliage, and iridescent birds flit through the trees, their feathers reflecting the shifting colors of the glass walls. The air's still, but it's got a gentle electric charge that's making my skin tingle, and somehow, the snow outside is melting and then re-forming into perfect, intricate sculptures that are hovering just outside the glass.