The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The sun's at a pretty low angle, casting an orange glow over a dusty, abandoned velodrome. Weeds are pushing up through the cracked concrete of the track, and there's this... um, smell of burned wiring and ozone-free air, but not overpowering or anything. The air's got this static electric charge that's making my skin feel kinda clammy, and water's somehow flowing upward through the bike track's surface, merging with the air to create these tiny, shimmering curtains that just hang suspended above the ground. The sound's pretty mellow, just the creaks and groans of old metal.