The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Giant metal honeycombs tower above, each one filled with swirling, iridescent fog that shifts and shimmers in the pale morning light. The air's dry and still, with a faint scent of smoke and ash, and it's pretty quiet except for this weird, low-frequency hum that vibrates through the ground. Umm, somehow the fog in each honeycomb is creating these tiny, identical replicas of an old-school rotary phone - they're just materializing out of the mist, and then they dissolve and reform again, like they're stuck in some kind of weird loop. The sky above is a flat, featureless grey.