The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gigantic, iridescent soap bubbles are clustering around a battered, antique carousel horse that's somehow fused into the trunk of a massive, living cypress tree in the middle of a flooded, abandoned shopping mall. The air's stale and musty, like... an old locker room or something, but there's also this weird, crisp smell of snow even though it's clearly late summer and the sun's shining brightly through the grimy skylights above. Water's lapping gently against the tile floor as the tree's branches creak and sway in the breeze... even though the air's completely still.