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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Like, a derelict wind farm sprawls out before me, the steel blades of its turbines tangled in a mess of twisted metal and downed power lines, weirdly still rotating despite the dead silence. A half-dozen ravens perch atop the central hub of one turbine, gazing out with an unnerving stillness, as if they're somehow controlling the entire setup. The air is charged with an almost-palpable ozone, making the hairs on my arm stand on end, while the sky above is an sickly, anemic yellow. Water, somehow, seeps upwards from the dusty earth, pooling in impossible, gravity-defying rivulets around the turbines' foundations.