The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A massive, rusted-out ship's propeller is buried halfway in the sand on a barren beach at sunrise, with seagulls crying loudly in the distance. Umm, water's slowly dripping off the propeller blades, and a Discord chat log from a cryptocurrency forum is etched into the metal, like, it's still updating in real-time with new messages popping up every few seconds. The air is really crisp and salty, and it smells like diesel fuel and seaweed. The sand around the propeller is perfectly flat and still, except for a small patch that's somehow rippling like it's underwater.