The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crushed eggshells and bird skeletons litter the cracked, concrete floor of a massive, abandoned aviary. The air is stale and musty, with a lingering scent of damp feathers, and it's like the atmosphere is heavy with the weight of decay. Shafts of weak sunlight struggle through grimy skylights above, casting an eerie, pale glow on the tangled remains of a Bitcoin-mining-rig-turned-bird-nest, somehow pulsing with a faint, blue light that's attracting a swarm of diseased, zombie-like pigeons. Umm, the walls seem to be... breathing.