The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, sunlight's filtering through the grimy windows of a dingy, old-school diner. Like, there's this huge, chrome-plated espresso machine taking up most of the counter space, and worn-out vinyl booths are just kind of... sagging against the walls. A slow, steady breeze is blowing through the open front door, carrying the smell of stale coffee and grease, and on the diner's neon sign, it just says "Earl's" - but for some reason, a functioning, full-sized Ferranti Atlas nuclear reactor is somehow jammed in the kitchen, humming along behind the swinging doors.