The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gigantic, empty concrete silos rise up from the dusty ground, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the barren landscape. Umm, the air's got this still, heavy feel to it, like the pressure's way higher than normal, and it smells like damp earth. Water's somehow flowing up the sides of the silos, collecting in puddles at the top, and... the puddles are slowly spelling out ASCII art of cat faces. The sound of gentle lapping water echoes off the silos, mixed with this weird, background hum that's like the distant thrum of a hundred hoverboards.