The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tons of old, beat-up airplanes are half-buried in a sea of bright orange flowers that stretch as far as the eye can see. The air's thick with the smell of gasoline, and there's this low hum of... I don't know, something mechanical, I guess. Umm, the sun's straight overhead, and it's casting no shadows – it's like the light's just totally uniform everywhere, which is kinda disorienting. The planes seem to be... growing these vines or something that are covered in the same orange flowers, like they're slowly being absorbed into the ground.