The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti tags cover a half-buried, mangled Tesla on a desolate beach at low tide, sunlight reflecting off the water and casting a pale light on the wet sand. Like, the air's thick with the smell of saltwater and motor oil, with a slight electric charge making my skin prickle. The waves are somehow not washing over the car, just parting around it like it's a rock or something, and a bunch of bioluminescent fish are swimming inside the smashed windshield, their glow casting a faint light on the sand beneath. Rain's gathering on the horizon.