The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, steam's billowing out of this ancient, industrial-sized laundry facility that's somehow merged with the side of a frozen glacier. Like, the ice is a deep blue color and there are these old, rusted washing drums spinning away, even though there's no visible power source... they're just kinda humming along. A steady drizzle of rain is coming down from above, but the air is actually super dry, like my skin's drying out just standing here. The sun's positioned low in the sky, casting a pale, golden light over the ice and rusty machinery.