The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: ...old, cracked pavement beneath, covered in oil stains... like, smells of diesel and rainwater, humid air sticks to my skin. A massive, dilapidated waterwheel towers above, its wooden spokes slowly turning... somehow it's hooked up to a tiny, functioning miniature of the Hadron Collider, like it's just part of the original construction or something. Sun's a hazy disk high in the overcast sky, uh, can't tell the exact time... but, uh, those clouds are definitely making that same Enochian Watchtower pattern from earlier, piece by piece...