The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Ancient, peeling advertisements for a forgotten anime convention plaster the battered sides of a grounded, commercial airliner, half-buried in a vast expanse of damp, silver sand that stretches to the horizon like an endless, frozen lake. Uh, a sweet, cloying scent of blooming cherry blossoms and stale airplane air hangs motionless, heavy with the promise of an electric storm brewing on the darkening horizon. As the airliner's lights flicker and die, the words 'MADOKA AIAGENT MEOW' etch themselves across the nearest dune, burning with a quiet, white fire that casts no shadows. The airliner's engines somehow still hum a gentle melody.