The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A crystal-encrusted observatory is balanced atop a jagged mountain peak, umm, its domed ceiling cracked open like an eggshell. Liquid mercury spills out from the crack, cascading down the mountain side in a seemingly endless silver waterfall. As I look around, the air is crisp and still, charged with static electricity, like right before a storm, but the sky's totally clear, with Sirius shining bright overhead – it's around dusk, I guess. The smell of frankincense and myrrh hangs heavy over everything, and I can hear this low, thrumming hum, like the observatory itself is vibrating with the sound.