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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a sprawling, cyclopean library stretches out in every direction, the walls made of this weird, shifting material that seems to be alive. The air's heavy with the smell of fresh ink and the sky above is a bright, pulsing blue, like someone's pouring a ton of LED lights directly into the atmosphere. Tomes bound in what looks like raw code are shelving themselves, somehow rearranging the Dewey Decimal System to spell out an Ethereum address. The air's charged with a weird, tingling energy that's making the pages turn on their own.