The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A medieval Gothic cathedral's vaulted stone ceiling stretches above me, like, somehow contained within the cavernous interior of a colossal, naturally formed crystal geode. Air's stale, heavy with the smell of old incense and a hint of smoke from a few smoldering, prayer candles that are somehow still burning on nearby pews, despite there being no visible means of oxygen supply. Through the crystal geode's naturally faceted walls, a slice of pale blue sky is visible, complete with the contrail of a passing jet airliner etched across it – somehow outside, yet seemingly a few meters above my head.