The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tendrils of frost-covered vines are wrapping around a delicate, crystal-encrusted antenna in the center of a vast, cryogenically preserved chamber filled with banks of supercomputers, like, partially submerged in a frozen lake of liquid nitrogen. The air's thick with the scent of burned wiring and ozone-free coolant as a low hum emanates from the antenna, which is somehow physically connected to a distant, frozen nebula, casting an ethereal glow on the crystalline structures sprouting from the walls. Umm, it's snowing inside, but the air's completely still, no movement or sound.