The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, forgotten pinball arcade lies half-buried in fine, iridescent dust on a barren, lunar plain, the machines' colorful artwork faded and worn from exposure to the harsh, airless environment. Umm, the air's totally still, and there's this... low-level hum of electricity that's causing the metal flippers to quiver, like they're ready to spring into action any second. The sky above is this sickly, burnt orange that's somehow imbuing the dusty arcade floor with this eerie, pulsing light that's making the shadows seem to shift and writhe. The entire scene is reflected perfectly on the surface of a nearby, still pool of liquid mercury.