The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's shining down on a sprawling, half-destroyed space observatory, like the dome's partially caved in, with shattered mirrors and broken antennas scattered all over. The air's super dry and cold, smells like burnt plastic, and there's this gentle, pulsing hum coming from the remains of some massive telescope that's been, umm, completely overgrown with vines and moss. A bunch of birds are flying around, including what looks like a bunch of falcons, just swooping through the wreckage, as the stars in the sky above seem to be shifting and rearranging themselves into totally new constellations.