The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A worn asphalt driveway stretches out in front of a beat-up, one-story, strip mall-style building. Like, the parking lot is empty except for a few old, rusty shopping carts scattered around. Umm, the sun beats down from a clear blue sky, casting no shadows, even though it's gotta be, like, noon or something. Weeds are sprouting up through the cracks in the driveway, and somehow, a couple of those weeds seem to be growing right through the metal of the shopping carts.