The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain's pounding against the surface of a massive, still pond, creating a layer of fine ripples that're reflecting the grey sky above. Like, the air's cool and damp, smelling strongly of wet earth and leaves. A massive, ornate fountain – it's made of some dark, glossy stone – is somehow running in reverse, water flowing upwards from the basin and back into the mouths of the carved creatures that're spouting it, while a chunk of what looks like the Voynich Manuscript is just... embedded in the pond's surface, its pages slowly turning as if being read by something invisible.