The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, the sun beats down on a seemingly abandoned drive-in movie theater, surrounded by a dense thicket of overgrown bushes and weeds. The air is heavy with the smell of gasoline, exhaust, and the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers. A solitary, rusting speaker pole somehow still broadcasts the muffled soundtrack of an old spaghetti western, the sound crackling with static. A decrepit projector somehow casts a perfect, crystal-clear image onto the worn, white screen, despite its broken lens and frayed wiring.