The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, sunlight's reflecting off a sea of rust-colored oil that covers the floor of this massive, abandoned factory. The air's thick with the smell of diesel fuel, and a thin layer of fine dust hangs above the machinery, catching the sunlight streaming through grimy skylights. Oil-covered pipes are somehow weaving in and out of each other, like they're alive, forming an impossibly complex network that seems to be pulsing with a slow, rhythmic movement. The air's pretty still, except for the faint hum of machinery echoing off the walls.