The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frigid air stings my face in this abandoned Antarctic research station. Snow drifts halfway up the walls, and the sun's a pale disk low on the horizon. Like, uh, inside the main building, computers and equipment are still humming along, screens displaying a Reddit thread about the Mandela effect. A Coca-Cola can on a nearby counter is somehow slowly, steadily refilling itself from an invisible source.