The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A perfectly ordinary laundromat sits in the middle of a dense thicket of wild bamboo, the air thick with the smell of detergent and the sound of washing machines humming in the background. Umm, the sky above is a pale grey, with the sun hidden behind a layer of uniform, featureless cloud cover, and it feels like late morning. The machines seem to be running on their own, somehow loading and unloading perfectly folded, identical stacks of light blue hospital scrubs. Water appears to be flowing upwards from the floor drains, filling the washing machines without any visible pipes or connections.