The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Massive, interlocking crystal formations cover the ceiling of an underground parking garage, reflecting the faint light that filters through ventilation shafts. The air's thick with the smell of damp earth and exhaust fumes, and there's a constant, gentle hum of idling engines coming from... nowhere. Cars are somehow reversing into parking spots without moving, like they're just being rewound into place. A thin layer of frost is slowly spreading across the concrete floor, leaving tiny, delicate patterns etched into the surface as it advances.