The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, rundown drive-in movie theater stretches out, the massive screen torn and flapping in the breeze like... Uh, a bunch of raccoons are rummaging through the trash cans, sending garbage flying everywhere, while others are somehow repairing an old car, expertly welding and replacing parts with tiny little tools. The air's got this heavy, lazy feel to it, with the smell of stale popcorn and grease, and a thick layer of fog is slowly creeping in off the nearby hills, casting an eerie glow over everything. The movie screen's suddenly flickering to life, showing some ancient cartoon.