The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tons of antique computer hardware and tangled wires are scattered across a massive, ornate wooden desk, like it's some abandoned workshop. Umm, above, the air is charged with this weird static electricity, and the smell of ozone and burned plastic is pretty strong. Outside, through these grimy stained glass windows, the sky is this deep shade of indigo, with the constellations visibly rearranging themselves to match some cryptic, 4chan copypasta about " SCP-293: The Coffee Machine". The whole area's filled with the soft hum of machinery, despite nothing being plugged in.