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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, an antique astronomical clock's mechanism is sprawling across the cracked, dusty floor of an abandoned observatory, its gears still moving in sync with the celestial bodies outside. The air's dry and stale, with a faint scent of smoke, and it's like, mid-morning, with the sun casting a pale glow through the shattered remains of a massive telescope lens. Shattered glass and metal debris are somehow reassembling themselves into a new, intricate pattern that mirrors the constellations above. A low-pitched humming noise is vibrating the air, like the clock's trying to adjust the Earth's rotation to match its own tempo.