The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A Boeing C-17 Globemaster cargo plane is half-submerged in a lake of solidified amber, its tail section somehow still operational with the rear ramp opening and closing in a slow, rhythmic pattern... The air's crisp and clean with a hint of citrus, and it's early morning, the sun's still below the horizon but casting an otherworldly glow on the surrounding hills of crystallized salt. Umm, the plane's engines are somehow humming in sync with a massive crystal formation nearby, generating a localized magnetic field that's making my shoes stick to the ground.