The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's pouring through a series of small openings high up on the structure, casting an irregular pattern on the ground of what looks like an empty, partially disassembled velodrome. The air's pretty still, except for a low hum, like the reverberation from a giant gong that was just struck... Uh, there's a lingering scent of liniment, like someone was just rubbing down a bunch of racing bikes, even though the place is completely deserted. On the far side of the velodrome, the seats appear to be morphing seamlessly into a spiral staircase that just sort of disappears into the ground.