The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty, cream-colored curtains billow out of the open windows of a 1950s-style diner, like... they're getting blown out by an air conditioner, but there's no sound. The sky above is this pale blue, with just a few streaks of cloud. The air smells strongly of bacon grease, umm, but there's this undercurrent of something almost like perfume, sweet but kind of artificial, and it's sticky with humidity. The neon "Dinette" sign reflects off a pool of perfectly still water that covers half the parking lot, without even a single ripple – a school of bright orange fish swim around a partially submerged motorcycle, just cruising.