The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a gleaming silver lake stretches out before a backdrop of jagged, crimson rock formations, with the air thick and heavy like it's charged with an electric storm that's about to break. Water's surface is mirror-still, reflecting the twisted, organic shapes of the rocks, but what catches my eye is that the lake seems to be draining upward, its water flowing against gravity into a series of impossible, interconnected Möbius strips carved into the rock face. Air's hot and still, like it's midday, with the acrid tang of sulfur hanging over everything.