The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's gushing upwards through a cracked, stone fountain in the center of a deserted, ornate plaza, surrounded by intricately carved buildings that seem to be made of this iridescent, mother-of-pearl-like material. Uh, a massive, crystalline satellite dish is looming over the fountain, its facets reflecting the pale, midday sun and casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the plaza's floor. The air's dry and still, with this faint, ozone-free smell of citrus wafting through it. Like, a few levitating pebbles are scattered across the plaza's surface, completely motionless despite the air's gentle breeze.