The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a massive pile of moldy bread is heaped up in the middle of a damp, cramped wine cellar, with old bottles of wine stacked haphazardly around it. Like, the air's thick with the smell of mildew and stale air, and I can hear the faint hum of... I guess, machinery or something, coming from somewhere deeper in the cellar. A faint stream of water trickles across the stone floor, somehow forming a perfect miniature replica of the Grand Canyon. The darkness is almost total, with only a sliver of light peeking in from a tiny crack in the door.