The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, water's flowing upwards through a sprawling network of ancient, rusted pipes, like, they're all twisted and tangled together, somehow suspended high above the ground by nothing. The air's thick with a metallic smell and the sound of screeching seagulls fills my ears, but I'm surrounded by a seemingly endless expanse of dusty, barren earth. Umm, the sun beats down overhead, baking the dry soil and creating a warm haze that shimmers above the ground. One of the pipes has a small, intact, porcelain dollhouse somehow lodged inside it, with tiny curtains blowing gently in a nonexistent breeze.