The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A single, rusty locomotive sits motionless in the center of a large, empty train yard, surrounded by nothing but a sea of cracked, dry concrete. Like, the air is still and heavy with a metallic scent, and the sun beats down with a strong midday heat. Uh, the only sound is a steady, low hiss of steam escaping from the engine, which somehow hasn't stopped despite being obviously abandoned for years. A few weeds are pushing their way up through the concrete nearby, slowly moving of their own accord to form a small, neat circle around a bolt that's been left on the ground.