The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain's pouring down on a vast, open plain littered with ancient, rusting farm equipment. Uh, the air's super electric, like... before a lightning strike, and the smell of wet soil is overpowering. A herd of ghostly aurochs are migrating across the plain, their massive bodies weaving in and out of the discarded machinery, while the sky above is somehow reflecting the pattern of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Water's pooling around the aurochs' hooves, forming miniature versions of the Mandelbrot set that seem to be sucking the surrounding debris into tiny, swirling whirlpools.