The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's shining down on a perfectly ordinary suburban street, but the pavement's made of this weird, translucent material that's showing a slow-moving cross-section of a volcano's magma flow underneath. Like, the houses are all identical, two-story homes with neatly manicured lawns and flowerbeds full of colorful, blooming flowers, but every single window's reflecting an image of the Eiffel Tower, even the ones facing away from the sun. A gentle breeze is rustling the leaves of the trees lining the street, and the air smells of freshly baked bread and melted plastic. The sky's a clear, electric blue.