The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Glowing neon hieroglyphs are etched into a frozen tundra, stretching as far as I can see, reflecting the pale light of an unmoving aurora borealis... The air is bitterly cold, but it's charged with electricity, making my skin tingle. A half-buried, rusted carcass of a 747 airliner is covered in crystalline structures that seem to be pulling the metal apart, and... its engines are somehow still whirring, despite being encased in ice. The smell of ozone and gasoline hangs heavy over the frozen wasteland.