The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Late morning sunlight casts an orange glow over a cramped, heavily vandalized telephone exchange room, the air thick with the smell of burned wire and ozone. Like, endless cat5 cables are somehow tangled into cryptic, glitch art patterns on the walls, while chunks of 4chan threads are laser-etched into the smashed equipment racks. Umm, a constant, ear-piercing whine is coming from the far corner of the room, where a hydroponic pump is steadily pouring some kind of glowing, purple liquid directly into the air, which is somehow holding its shape in mid-air like a solid.