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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: There's this blurry figure sitting in a lawn chair, on the rooftop of some massive brutalist skyscraper, I guess that's me, but it's really hard to make out. The air's thick with the smell of wet concrete and it's super overcast, like the sky is just a big grey sheet of paper. This skyscraper's somehow jutting straight out of the middle of the Grand Canyon, with the Colorado River snaking around its base, and there's this crazy-strong updraft of air, like everything's being lifted upwards. Uh, it's late afternoon, and the sun's a tiny disk way off on the horizon.