The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, morning sunlight's casting an orange glow over a deserted, retro-style diner, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filling the air. Water's pouring down from the ceiling, somehow not touching the countertops or booths, instead forming a series of mini whirlpools on the floor. Like, the air's thick with an eerie stillness, no sound of sizzling food or even a hum from the neon signs outside, just an oppressive quiet. A plate of steaming hot pancakes is somehow embedded in the center of a booth, not even touching the table.