The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Like, a weirdly ornate, Escher-inspired staircase spirals upward through a gleaming white skyscraper's core, somehow coexisting with this brutalist, cyclopean temple architecture that seems to be pulsing with an eerie pink glow. The air's heavy with ozone and this metallic scent, like burning wires, as shards of shattered console hardware rain down from above, somehow merging seamlessly into the staircase's steps like molten lava. Outside, a colossal, iridescent tornado is ripping through a desolate metropolis, causing buildings to warp and distort like Salvador Dali paintings. Shards of glass from the storm-swept cityscape keep falling upward.