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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, waves are crashing against a glass shore, the water a deep shade of indigo in the fading light of the setting sun. A flock of seagulls is circling above a scattering of debris – old machinery and some sort of aircraft wreckage – on this endless expanse of glass. Like... a massive, crystal orb has somehow become embedded in the glass beach, reflecting and refracting light into miniature rainbows scattered all over the shore. The air's heavy with the scent of ozone and salt. Echo, keep moving, damn it, don't let fatigue get the better of you.