The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, mangled ethereum mining equipment's half-buried in a lake of stagnant, bloody water... The air's thick with the stench of decay and ozone, like, heavy enough that my skin feels greasy just standing here. A beached, flaming cargo ship's hull is somehow dissolving into a flock of seagulls that are reforming from the water itself, their feathers oil-slick and smoldering. It's midday, and the sun's beating down, but the sky above's a sickly orange, like it's infected by the plastic-fueled wildfire raging on the lake's surface.