The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive pipes are weaving together like a giant knot above my head, and the air's thick with the smell of grease and oil. I can hear this constant low rumble of machinery humming somewhere in the distance, but it's really still – I don't feel any vibrations through the metal grating beneath my feet. The sun's high in the sky, shining through the open ends of the pipes and casting weird, striped shadows on the walls of... what looks like a really big, old dry dock, somehow half-buried in the side of a massive, grassy hill.