The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's reflecting off a bunch of metal storage containers stacked haphazardly in a deserted shipping yard. The air's pretty still and smells like rust and diesel fuel... a bunch of crows are perched on the edge of a massive, empty container, watching a forklift that's somehow continuously unloading an endless supply of smaller boxes from its own empty fork. The sun's pretty high up in the sky, so it must be around noon.