The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive, rusting industrial machinery churns out a stream of what looks like flesh-toned, twitching Play-Doh, which gets molded into rough shapes before being deposited onto a conveyor belt, somehow seamlessly merging with the twitching lumps of meat I saw earlier. The air's heavy with a greasy, burnt smell, like an overheated engine, and there's this ear-piercing screech that's somehow syncing up with a slowed-down version of a Minecraft redstone contraption tutorial playing from...somewhere. Sun beats down on us, casting no shadows despite its intensity, sky above a dull, bloody red.