The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: I'm walking through a giant, abandoned IMAX theater with a shredded Peloton bike somehow stuck into the projection screen, streaming the ASCII art Dogecoin logo. The air's thick with an electric charge, and the smell of burnt popcorn lingers, but uh, the theater's somehow... filled with crude oil, like, it's waist-deep and eerily still. Outside, I can hear a howling wind and the creaking of twisted metal, with sunlight filtering through a gaping hole in the roof, casting a bright beam of light that's slowly rotating like a searchlight. The silence inside is deafening.