The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A slowly spinning top somehow embeds itself in the surface of a vast, frozen lake, its axis unwavering despite the surrounding ice's numerous hairline cracks and fissures. The sky above's a pale, milky blue, and a faint scent of gasoline lingers in the crisp, cold air, with a subtle electric charge causing the hairs on my arms to stand up. Umm, the surrounding environment's completely still, except for the top's steady spinning, which somehow propels tiny shards of ice outward from its base, etching a network of intricate patterns in the frozen surface.