The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crushed-up circuit boards cover a vast, arid expanse of cracked earth like it's been ravaged by an ancient, long-abandoned industrial operation. The air's heavy with the stench of burned plastic and this weird... stillness, like there's no wind at all, despite a blizzard visibly raging a mile or so away, somehow cordoned off by an invisible barrier that keeps the area perfectly calm. Umm, these cryptic Kabbalistic sigils etched into the ground are kinda shifting, rearranging themselves to mirror the patterns of constellations in the pale blue sky above.