The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Like, dense layers of silt and dust coat everything in an abandoned, miles-wide, underground railway station. Air's stale, heavy, and musty, but somehow carries the sweet scent of ripening mangoes. In the darkness, train cars made of some weird, translucent stone seem to be... repairing themselves – shattered glass reforms, broken steel beams untangle and weld back together – the clattering echoes through the tunnels as the cars reassemble with this slow, labored creaking. The darkness seems to vibrate with a faint, mechanical hum, like engines idling in the distance.