The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gnarly thunderheads are brewing above a retro-futuristic, abandoned broadcast antenna facility on the edge of a vast, barren salt flat. The air's thick with an electric charge, making my skin prickle, and I can smell the acrid tang of burned circuitry wafting from the busted transmission equipment. Like, a weird, pixelated rain is falling from the sky, somehow rendering glitchy, distorted versions of obscure memes from the depths of 4chan onto the salt-crusted ground. Umm, the sun's a burning red disk just above the horizon, casting an otherworldly glow over the whole scene.