The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tangled strands of barbed wire cover a worn stone staircase, descending into darkness, but sunlight's somehow shining through it, illuminating these old, rusted bicycle frames embedded in the walls like fossils. Water's pooling on each step, and I can smell... umm, damp earth and diesel fuel. The air's really humid, but there's this low-frequency rumble, like thunder, even though the sky above's a clear, bright blue. The entire staircase appears to be revolving, like it's connected to a giant gearwheel that's turning, but really slowly.