The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, an inverted, kilometers-long section of railroad track stretches out above, like... a bridge made of rails suspended high above, arcing off into the clouds, which are these... billowy, cream-colored masses that are reflecting sunlight, it's almost midday. A nearby station's loudspeakers crackle with distorted, unintelligible whispers that sound almost like Parsi prayer chants, and there's this... intense smell of overheated bearings. Rain's falling from above but somehow getting deflected off an invisible dome centered around the station, creating this... eerie dry pocket in the middle of a deluge.