The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a colossal, gravity-warped library sprawls across a shattered asteroid's interior, the air thick with the scent of sugary flowers and the hum of embedded console controllers. Like, shelves of iridescent crystal are filled with glitch-art tomes that seem to be rewriting themselves in real-time, their covers flashing with EtherOrcs-inspired graphics. Shattered screensavers hover statically, like a still frame of an explosion, as if caught in the asteroid's spinning gravity. The black hole on the circulation desk is checking out a copy of the Necronomicon to a patron that doesn't seem to exist.