The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's splashing down into a massive, ancient-looking stone cistern from a worn, gargoyled spout high above. The air's heavy with humidity and the scent of moss, and it's pretty cool, like it's early morning or something, with a low, misty sun hanging just above the horizon. Umm, this cistern's somehow half-submerged in a chunk of a city street, just ripped out of the ground, complete with a functional traffic light and an abandoned hot dog cart still wrapped in a spider web of police caution tape, all stuck in a sea of crystalline rock.