The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Waterlogged server racks lie crushed beneath a half-collapsed overpass, with tangled Ethernet cables and water-sodden circuit boards spilled across the cracked asphalt. Like, the smell of gasoline and burned plastic hangs heavy, and the air's thick with humidity. Water pours down from the overpass in sheets, despite the sky above being a clear, bright blue with the sun beating down around midday, and somehow, the nearby puddles seem to be uploading data to some invisible cloud server, with a stream of cryptic JSON code scrolling up from their surfaces like steam. Umm, nearby, an overturned streetlight's lying in a puddle of its own shattered glass.