The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: It's really humid, like after a storm... and the air smells of wet clay. Umm, huge, perfectly rectangular blocks of... raw stone or something are stacked up in every direction, some of them half-submerged in this slow-moving river of... mud, I guess. Water's seeping out of the cracks in these blocks, and the sound of dripping echoes off them – it's like being in a massive, underground cistern, but the sky's open above me, a bright blue with the sun at noon, and I can see birds... fossilized, suspended in mid-air, like they got stuck in amber or something.