The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a sprawling, sun-baked desert stretches out to the horizon, the sandy dunes dotted with clusters of vintage computer peripherals, like ancient motherboards and graphics cards, all slowly getting buried by the shifting sand. The air is hot and dry, and the smell of burning plastic wafts on the breeze as the sun beats down, feeling like it's about 3 PM. Like, a Dogecoin logo seems to be physically integrated into a nearby rock formation, its edges seamless with the stone. A low-flying drone made entirely of what looks like spare vending machine parts buzzes quietly overhead.