The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, dim moonlight casts long shadows across an old, abandoned drive-in movie theater. A torn screen hangs crookedly from a rusty metal frame, flapping gently in the breeze as the sound of crickets and distant thunder fill the air. Like, the smell of mildew and ozone wafts through the air as water somehow seeps upwards from the cracked asphalt, refilling the popcorn machines at the old concession stand. A beat-up old film projector continues to run, casting an endless loop of grainy, black-and-white footage of a deserted, rural road onto the screen.