The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, wispy cirrus clouds stretch across a deep blue sky, like... an impressionist painting. A sleek, aerodynamic maglev train lies wrecked across the cracked, arid earth of a vast desert canyon system, the air thick with the acrid smell of ozone and burnt wire, umm, the stillness oppressive and heavy with an electric charge. Tendrils of fiber-optic cabling sprout from the train's damaged core, somehow weaving themselves into impossible, self-sustaining geometric patterns that pulse with a soft, blue light. Shards of LED glass pierce the sand nearby, casting no reflections despite being fully intact.