The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rusty gates are swinging open and shut, like, by themselves, in the middle of a deserted highway. The air's got a strong scent of gasoline, but the highway stretches out empty in both directions, with no signs of cars or any life. A bright blue rest stop sign points to a dilapidated gas station with an attached, old-fashioned diner that seems to be simultaneously covered in dust and totally clean, like it's been sealed off for years but somehow maintained itself. Umm, a sign above the diner's door is saying, 'Now serving breakfast on Mars.'