The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, polished onyx covers every inch of an abandoned, centuries-old grand concert hall. Umm, heavy drapery hangs listlessly from the balconies, weighed down by inches of thick, wet dust that glistens in the faint, warm glow filtering through stained glass windows high above – a mix of sunlight and distant thunderstorm. Shafts of faint, eerie light also emanate from an upright, translucent Steinway piano somehow submerged at the edge of the orchestra pit, which is now a murky pond. Water's trickling slowly down the legs of nearby, worn velvet seats, like... they've been pulled from the ocean floor.