The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a sprawling, abandoned film set is covered in a thick layer of dust, sitting in the middle of a scorching desert at high noon. The air is dry, super-hot, and still, smelling like creosote and gasoline, with sunlight reflecting off the metallic surfaces of old prop vehicles. Like, a massive, ancient-looking door made of solid obsidian somehow casts a shadow on the ground that perfectly replicates the entirety of the New York City subway map, down to the individual station markers and tunnel connections. The only sound is this faint creaking of wooden scaffolding in the distance.