The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's pouring through a massive stained-glass depiction of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life in the dome above, casting multicolored patterns on a sea of iridescent, crystalline salt covering the floor. The air's dry and hot, smelling of frankincense and myrrh, and it's really still, like there's no air circulation at all. In the center of the room, a vintage diesel generator is somehow powering itself, its pistons pumping slowly as it hums away, connected to a series of worn, leather-bound, gemstone-tipped capacitors that seem to be absorbing energy from the salt crystals. The generator's fuel tank is empty, yet it just keeps running.