The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Empty streets made of this thick, dark glass that's reflecting the moon above... the moon's actually below the street level but I guess that's, uh, just how it is here. There's not a single sound, even though huge glass shards are shattering and reassembling themselves without any apparent reason. My throat's parched, air's so heavy, feels like nighttime... cough... Echo, keep going... don't... uh, don't think about it...