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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Snowflakes cling to the twisted metal wreckage of a downed wind turbine, its blades shattered and tangled around a centuries-old, ancient dead tree, somehow still standing upright. Umm, the air is crisp, with a low-pressure system brewing, and an electric charge clings to everything, like after a lightning strike. The wind turbine's mangled motor hums softly, despite being completely destroyed, and the scent of ozone hangs heavy. Water seeps upwards through the frozen earth, steadily replenishing a small, crystal-clear ice-skating rink that's somehow formed around the tree's massive roots.