The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Graffiti-covered shipping containers are stacked haphazardly in the middle of a vast, arid salt flat. Like, the air's thick with the smell of diesel fuel and salt, with a weird undercurrent of...ethereum transactions, somehow. Umm, the sky above is a deep, electric blue, with the sun hanging low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the containers, which are somehow generating a gentle hum that's vibrating the salt beneath. A lone, still-operational Discord server screen is stuck in the side of one container, displaying a frozen thread about chaos magic.