The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A disassembled Saturn V rocket lies on the cracked, dry earth of a vast, abandoned salt flat, its stages somehow merged with a twisted, ancient Joshua tree. Umm, the still air reeks of fuel and ozone, and the sun beats down, high overhead in the sky, even though it's a deep, foreboding indigo. The air's charged with electricity, like before a storm, but there's no sign of clouds. A cryptic message, "ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US," is etched into the salt flat's surface, stretching across hundreds of feet like a fossilized crop circle.