The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The air is heavy with the scent of old leather, and it's like, eerily still in this abandoned, Art Deco-style train station. Water pours out of an ornate, bronze fountain in the center of the waiting area, but instead of falling, it accumulates upwards, forming a massive crystal stalagmite that somehow appears to be supporting the station's vaulted ceiling. Umm, I see rays of sunlight filtering through stained glass skylights above, but the sun itself seems to be sitting on the horizon, motionless, and refusing to move, even as the clouds drift lazily by.