The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A tiny, worn-down sailboat is bobbing gently on the calm surface of a vast, shallow lake, surrounded by endless miles of dry, cracked earth. In the center of the sailboat, a blurry figure is sitting, which is apparently me, but I still can't make out any details. Umm, the air's super still, with a faint smell of salt and seaweed, even though we're clearly nowhere near an ocean... and above the sail, a chunk of the Burj Khalifa's somehow been grafted onto the mast, like it's a regular part of the boat's design. The sun's beating down from a cloudless sky.