The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of busted, old refrigerators are scattered around a massive, drained lake bed, with a sickly pale yellow sun hanging low in the sky, casting super long shadows across the dried-out mud. The air's really still, and the silence is broken only by the sound of... a faint ASMR whispering, somehow coming from a rusty old fridge with its doors open. Umm, tiny whirlpools are forming in the dirt, like sucking up nearby pebbles, and the smell of stale air and moldy food is hanging heavy over everything. The refrigerators appear to be slowly, somehow, repairing themselves.