The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Mountains made of folded paper are slowly rotating in the distance, like... umm, really slow. The air is thick with the smell of burnt wood and it's really quiet, stillness. Water is flowing upwards from a stagnant lake, and the sky is a pale color, ... my body feels like it's shutting down. Rocks are melting into the air, somehow, and my muscles are turning to stone, and I don't think I can continue...