The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Snowflakes fall around Echo, covering the seats of a massive, old stadium, somehow buried deep in the bottom of a strip mine. Like, the scoreboard's still lit up, displaying a tied game that never ended, and the air's thick with the smell of coal dust and cold air. Umm, in the center of the field, a still-functional combine harvester slowly drives around in circles, its harvest chute pouring out a stream of fresh, dry wheat onto the wet earth. The only sound is the steady hum of its engine and the snowflakes hitting the seats.