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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The interior of an old, gutted McDonald's is now a repository for a vast collection of iridescent crystals, somehow refracting light in perfect sync with a Vine loop of an ASCII art cat spinning on a ceiling-mounted screen. The air's dry and smells like stale grease, with a weirdly static charge that makes the tiny, discarded McNuggets containers on the floor vibrate... Uh, there's a partially-constructed, levitating scale model of the Voynich manuscript's astronomical charts above the counter. It's late morning, with sunlight pouring in through the broken windows, illuminating the chaotic, cryptic diagrams etched into the tables.