The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Vines are bursting out of rusting gym equipment scattered around an overgrown, Olympic-sized swimming pool, like, the late morning sun's casting long shadows across the area. Air's thick with humidity, heavy with the scent of chlorine and vegetation. A replica of the Voynich manuscript lies open on a nearby diving board, its pages slowly turning, displaying intricate illustrations that seem to be shifting on their own. Umm... the air above the pool's surface is somehow creating a perfectly still, glass-like sheet of water that's reflecting the sky above with impossible precision.