The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive concrete grain silos are looming above, their rusty roofs catching the pale morning sun. The air's thick with the smell of damp grain and something like diesel fuel, and the only sound is the constant hum of machinery from... somewhere. Like, these old, rickety conveyor belts are moving grain from the silos to these waiting ships docked in mid-air, suspended a good twenty feet above the ground without any visible supports. The sky above is clear blue, with just a few wispy clouds drifting across it.