The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a dense network of gleaming, chrome pipes covers the ceiling of a cramped, industrial laundry room, the air thick with the smell of detergent and fabric softener. The washing machines are all somehow merged with vintage video game consoles, screens flashing as they churn through endless cycles. A faint hum fills the air, like a giant motor running in the distance, and the fluorescent lights above seem to be synchronized with the spin cycles. Like, the pipes are slowly rearranging themselves, as if trying to optimize some invisible flow.