The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A massive, ornate chandelier somehow hangs from the center of a naturally formed ice cave, reflecting light off thousands of glittering icicles... it's like, around midday judging by the position of the sun shining through the ice. Next to this, a perfectly normal-looking, old-fashioned diner somehow blends seamlessly into the rugged, rocky face of a sheer cliff, its chrome exterior reflecting the pale blue of a clear sky as wispy strands of cloud drift lazily across it. The air's crisp and clean, smelling like... well, nothing, really. Umm, a perfectly still, motionless windmill sail somehow protrudes from the diner's kitchen.