The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, rocky outcropping sits in the middle of a vast, arid desert, surrounded by nothing but sand and a few withered cacti. Like, the air's pretty still, smelling of dry earth and creosote as the mid-morning sun beats down on everything. A few vultures lazily circle overhead, unbothered by the fact that a small, dusty creek somehow runs straight up the side of the outcropping and disappears into a hole in the rock without spilling a single drop of water on the ground. The sound of gently rustling sand and distant bird calls fills the still air.