The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a giant, crystal-encrusted treadmill stretches across a vast, empty hangar, somehow slowly rotating a huge, gleaming titanium aircraft propeller at its center. The air's heavy with the smell of burnt fuel, and a low-pitched whine echoes off the walls as the sun streams in through a long row of high, clerestory windows, casting a warm, golden light over the space. It's like, pretty humid in here, and a small bunch of emerald green parakeets flit around the propeller's hub, chirping in sync with the machinery's hum. A massive, LED screen mounted high on one wall displays an endless, slowed-down loop of a Minecraft creeper explosion.