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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive, ancient Mesopotamian-style busts, covered in dust, are scattered across the pale, cracked mudflats of a long-dried lakebed, like... abandoned. Air's so thin I can barely breathe, and my lungs are on fire... The stillness is almost deafening, but for the faint, rhythmic hum of an invisible engine in the distance. One of the busts is partially buried in the dry earth, and, somehow, its stone eyes are looking directly at me – its stone pupils have tiny, concentric gears slowly rotating inside, like some tiny clockwork device is embedded within.