The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A low ceiling fans spins lazily above a diner's counter, with chrome-edged booths lining the wall and checkered patterns on the floor. The smell of stale grease hangs heavy, and sunlight pours in from outside through the diner's large windows, which somehow don't seem to have any actual glass, like, the air pressure is the same in here as it is outside. Outside, a dense rainforest presses in close, and somehow the diner's neon sign keeps reflecting perfectly off a completely still patch of water right in the middle of the rushing river that's basically right outside the window. Umm, it's early morning, judging by the light.