The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Late afternoon sun casts an orange glow through a grimy, hexagonal skylight in a massive, underground fungal farm. Uh, the air's heavy with the smell of damp earth and mycelium as a steady stream of pale, glowing mushrooms somehow grows, harvests, and packages itself into vacuum-sealed bags on a rickety conveyor belt. A gentle hum of machinery echoes through the space, even though everything appears still and covered in a thick layer of fine, white dust. Water droplets on the transparent packaging somehow reflect an image of a cat playing the piano, despite no visible cat or piano nearby.