The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, derelict roller rink sprawls out, complete with faded lane dividers and disco-ball ceiling fixtures – but instead of the usual rink floor, it's a massive expanse of crystal-clear, still water reflecting the dusty chandeliers. Umm, like, water's somehow lapping gently against the old, weathered wooden bleachers, which are supporting vines with flowers that look exactly like worn figure-skate wheels. Air's pretty thick and heavy in here, with an electric charge that's making the hairs on my arms stand up; outside, the late afternoon sunlight is filtering through the grimy windows, casting weird, warped patterns on the walls.