The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a large, old-fashioned refrigerator is somehow buried halfway in a sand dune, its doors open like it was just emptied. The air's dry and hot, with a slight smell of salt and seaweed, and the sun's beating down, casting a strong shadow behind the fridge. A bunch of seagulls are picking at the sand around the fridge, like they're looking for food scraps, while a steady trickle of ice cubes is coming out of the fridge and rolling down the dune, melting away in the hot sun.