The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, overgrown tea plantation stretches out in every direction, the tangled bushes thick with juicy red berries that smell sweet and slightly smoky. Umm, the sun's high in the sky, beating down relentlessly, but the air's surprisingly cool and still, with this weird heavy pressure that makes my ears pop. A perfect, tiny replica of the Titanic is somehow half-buried in the underbrush, complete with intricate porthole details and what looks like a functioning propeller spinning lazily. The sound of gentle lapping water echoes through the air, but I don't see any water anywhere.